Thollem/Parker/Cline

The Gowanus Session
Porter Records PRCD -4068

By Ken Waxman

Turning the discreet piano-guitar-bass formation on its head are the energetic and ardent improvisations of pianist Thollem McDonas, bassist William Parker and guitarist Nels Cline. One listen to the stabbing keyboard runs, thick double bass rhythms and guitar distortions exposed during The Gowanus Session’s six selections destroys the polite-jazz label that was created for such lounge-favored trios with this instrumentation as Nat “King” Cole’s and Oscar Peterson’s in the ‘40s and ‘50s.

All three musicians here are committed free-form players. Cline may now be a member of Wilco, but has extensive history with West Coast experimenters like Vinny Golia. Parker is one of the most recorded bassist in the music, as leader or as linchpin on multiple CDs. As for San Francisco-born McDonas, his peripatetic travelling makes the bassist seem like a homebody, with sessions as likely to involve Italian or Mexican improvisers as American ones; and by playing with punk bands or drumming troupes as often as jazzers.

Strangely, for a disc dedicated to the memory of Italian improvising bassist Stefano Scodanibbio (1956-2012), Parker is upfront the least on the session. Except for some sprawling arco scratches or scene-stealing string pops with woody intonation that appear on certain tracks, the full force of his skill is directed towards connective pedal-point ostinato. Instead the exhilarating and often exhausting challenges involve mating or contrasting McDonas’ jabbing notes and wide runs with Cline’s purposely disruptive string shredding, knob-twisting and reverberating power chords. “As Many Worlds” demonstrates this, as near-romantic cascades from the pianist are sundered by Cline’s mercurial clips and drones. Elsewhere it’s up to the bassist’s brawny thumps to balance the others’ playing, as the pianist’s note clusters strain to make an impact and not be buried under the guitarist’s buzzing flanges.

Using beefy chording at kinetic speeds that would be recognized by Peterson, McDonas turns the nearly 16-minute “Lives” into the CD’s climax. High frequency and tremolo, his cumulative glissandi appear to follow their own logic before being prodded back into line by Parker’s measured slaps. Against this thickening force, Cline buzzes spiky flanges, rips scratchy tones from his guitar neck and references psychedelic drones. Eventually singular improvisations at cross purposes reach a crescendo of passing tones and then attain dual muscular lyricism, aided by Parker`s distinctive strokes.

Free jazz at its zenith, The Gowanus Session also decisively redefines the description of a trio with this instrumentation.

Tracks: There Are; As Many Worlds; In A Life; As There Are; Lives; In the World

Personnel: Thollem McDonas: piano; Nels Cline: guitar; William Parker: bass

--For The New York City Jazz Record June 2013

June 13, 2013

Abdelhaï Bennani Trio

Encounters
JaZt Tapes CD 037

When measured against the hegemony of the global music industry, all really creative improvisers labor on different levels of obscurity, no matter the excellence of their presentation. So it is with these encounters, unapologetic Free Jazz of the highest calibre, where the leader is the least known of the participants.

That’s because Fès, Morocco-born tenor saxophonist Abdelhaï Bennani’s hard-nosed improvisations were developed and are almost exclusively heard in France. Isolated from the American mainstream, his sessions with such fellow travellers as trumpeter Itaru Oki guitarist Camel Zekri and bassist Benjamin Duboc remain an unheralded pleasure for many. This disc, recorded in a Paris club at the turn of this century, is as notable as any by other saxophonists of his era and proclivities – Bennani was born in 1950 – with stalwart associates who are better known in the Free Jazz gestalt. American-raised, long-time French resident Alan Silva plays piano and orchestral synthesizer, while William Parker, one of the most ubiquitous figures in Free Music is on bass.

Such is the strength of the presentation that the absence of drums is hardly noted. Between the rhythmic pulses of the bull fiddle and the metronomic patterns created by the synth, more overt percussiveness would be unnecessary. Instead the nearly 49-minute encounter is a defining essay in abstract yet organic music making.

Consisting of slurs, squeaks and split tones, Bennani’s reed textures push chromatically throughout the performance, illuminating as well as deconstructing lines and clusters. By the same token, Bennani’s so sure of the thematic strategies he generates, that he’s unafraid to lay out for protracted periods, letting the sonic interaction advance without him. At first the subsequent sequence is directed by Silva’s piano styling, with its dynamic contrasts and staccato key clipping reminiscent of Cecil Taylor’s work. Drawn back into the fray, the saxophonist matches these keyboard variations with vibrations that sluice from altissimo to basso. Finally Parker’s low-pitched string sweeps glue the pieces together into an effervescent whole.

The next shift involves Silva’s pounding piano chords foreshadowing a dramatic shift to a more abstract, yet funkier variant which bring electronically processed lines into play. Simultaneously agitated and atonal, saxophone honks perfectly complement the string-like glissandi from Silva’s synthesizer, as the bassist’s thumping pedal point maintains the beat. Eventually the spotlight again shifts to Parker. This specific modification finds the bassist directly challenging the synthesizer’s gradually swelling hums and drones with staccato triple-stopping, often involving all four strings at once. This contrapuntal challenge met, Bennai asserts himself and proceeds to deconstruct the exposition by expelling limiting singular breaths.

Reaching a climatic interaction with the tune’s final variations, an organized – if perhaps surreptitious –arrangement reveals itself. Soon many of the previous motifs are revisited, while individual contributions are balanced. Silva new piano strategy involves descending key clipping; Parker moves from sul ponticello slices to string hammering; and Bennani’s blaring sound shards fade. Finally, sweeping synthesizer washes blend with a thumping double bass line to signal the piece’s conclusion.

Bennani may be world-famous all over Paris and nowhere else. But this supposed obscurity shouldn’t keep people from hearing this first-class effort.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Encounters #1, #2, #3

Personnel: Abdelhaï Bennani (tenor saxophone); Alan Silva (piano and orchestral synthesizer) and William Parker (bass)

May 28, 2013

Rhapsody’s 2012 Jazz Critics' Poll

Individual Ballot
From Ken Waxman

• Your name and primary affiliation(s) (no more than two, please)

Ken Waxman

Jazz Word (www.jazzword.com); The New York City Jazz Record

• Your choices for 2012's ten best new releases listed in descending order one-through-ten.

1. François Houle Genera Songlines SGL 1595-2

2. Fred Ho/Quincy Saul The Music of Cal Massey: A Tribute Mutable/Big Red Media 004

3. William Parker Centering: Unreleased Early Recordings 1976–1987 NoBusiness Records NBCD 42-47

4. Grutronic & Evan Parker Together in Zero Space psi 11.09

5. Frank Wright Blues for Albert Ayler ESP-Disk ESP-4068

6. Michel Doneda/Nils Ostendorf Cristallisation absinth Records 023

7. Josh Berman & His Gang There Now Delmark DE 2016

8. The Fish Moon Fish Clean Feed CF 254 CD

9. MMM Quartet Live at the Metz Arsenal Leo Records CD LR 631

10. Michael Bates Acrobat: Music For, and By, Dmitri Shostakovich Sunnyside SSC 1291

• Your top-three reissues, again listed in descending order

1. Graham Collier Relook: A Memorial 75th Birthday Celebration Jazz Continuum No #

2. Steve Lacy The Sun (1967-73) Emanem 5022

3. Mazette Watts & Company ESP-Disk 1044

• Your choice for the year's best vocal album

None

• Your choice for the year's best debut CD

1. Yoni Kretzmer Overlook OutNow Records ONR 002

• Your choice for the year’s best Latin jazz CD

1. El Ombligio Canción Psicotrópica Y Jaleo Festina Lente Discos FLD 015

January 11, 2013

William Parker

Centering: Unreleased Early Recordings 1976–1987
NoBusiness NBCD 42-47

Something In the Air: Discovering Long Hidden Advanced Jazz

By Ken Waxman

When New York’s now justly famous, Vision Festival first took place in 1996 committed jazz fans greeted the event as if they were witnessing a full-fledged musical resurrection. So many advanced players of unbridled free form and experimental sounds were involved that the annual festival soon became a crowded week-long summer happening. Ironically – which was one reason for the Fest’s popularity – these probing sounds and its players were supposed to have vanished after the revolutionary 1960s, superseded first by Jazz-Rock pounders’ simple melodies and then jazz’s Young Lions who aped the sounds and sartorial choices of the 1950s – both of which had major record label support. Still bassist/composer/bandleader William Parker’s Centering: Unreleased Early Recordings 1976–1987 NoBusiness NBCD 42-47 aptly demonstrates, experimental sounds never vanished; they just went underground. As the 24 often lengthy tracks that make up this 6-CD set of hitherto unreleased material substantiates in its breadth of performances, sonically questing players were improvising and composing during those so-called lost years. But it took the founding of the Vision Festival by Parker and his wife, dancer/choreographer Patricia Nicholson, to provide the proper medium for this work. Major stylists such as saxophonists Charles Gayle and David S. Ware, vocalist Ellen Christi and trumpeter Roy Campbell, all of whom are represented in the set, would go on to mentor a multiplying groundswell of younger rule stretchers and future Vision Fest participants. Also, despite being professionally recorded, the conservative climate of the times, plus the cost of producing and distributing LPs, left the tapes used for these CDs stacked in performers’ apartments. Now the belated release of Centering fills in a blank in jazz history, equivalent to what coming across a cache of unreleased John Cage or Morton Feldman recordings would do. Included in the package is an attractively designed 66-page paperback book with vintage photos, posters and sketches along with essays discussing the background of the sessions, the musicians’ experiences and the New York scene.

From a historical perspective the most valuable artifacts are those which feature Parker playing alongside saxophonists who are now major influences in the international avant garde. From 1980 the bassist and alto saxophonist Daniel Carter are involved in musical discussions which make up for their lack of nuance with brilliant and mercurial playing, eviscerating every timbre and tone that could be sourced from their instruments. As Parker’s chunky rhythms hold the bottom while simultaneously rubbing and stopping strings to produce unique interjections, Carter ranges all over his horn. On “Thulin”, for instance, multiphonic split tones, triple tonguing, barks and bites are just the beginning of the saxophonist’s agitated interface. Working his solo into a fever pitch of altissimo cries and freak notes, he often sounds as if he’s playing two reed instruments. Eventually Parker’s juddering percussiveness grounds the track; angling the two towards a finale, but not before an extended a capella passage by the bassist, where his multi-string sinewy strokes expose timbres that could be created by a string quartet. Contrast that with the beefy pedal point Parker uses on the two 1987 tracks with tenor saxophonist Gayle. After the reedist’s almost continuous overblowing exposes snarling altissimo or nephritic guttural tones, Parker asserts himself on “Entrusted Spirit” with tremolo strums and slaps which echo sympathetically alongside Gayle’s expansive multiphonics. Finally the saxman’s pressurized snarls and mercurial split tones are muted to an affiliated moderato tone by smooth pizzicato lines from Parker, bringing wood tapping and top-of-range angling into the mix.

Equally instructive, tenor saxophone Ware and Parker, who would become one-half of Ware’s celebrated quartet in the 1990s, recorded with drummer Denis Charles in 1980 as the Centering Dance Music Ensemble. Unlike earlier Parker compositions on this set performed by string or vocal-based ensembles to back-up Nicholson’s choreography that seem overly notated and more distant, the Ware-Parker-Charles creations are vibrant free jazz that may have caused repetitive strain injuries among dance company members. Highpoint is the inclusive and contrapuntal Tapestry. Here the saxophonist’s juddering smears and expansive reed vibrations, Parker’s focused slaps and Charles’ bass drum thumps are individually showcased then smartly combined into a tremolo vamp that descends into satisfying cohesion. Edifyingly demonstrating that the so-called avant-gardists celebrated the tradition is One Day Understanding. With a dirge-like middle section where Ware directly quotes an Albert Ayler head, the exposition and conclusion allow the saxman full range for glossolalia, spinning split tones and fervid overblowing effectively honoring saxophone titans like John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman by inference. Parker’s sputtering spiccato slices relate to Henry Grimes’ and Jimmy Garrison’s liberation of the bass role; while Charles, whose military-style rebounds and hard backbeat helped define free jazz in the late 1950s, just plays himself.

Even more germane to contemporary experimenters who frequently amalgamate into large-scale improvisational ensembles are two other Parker-led groups. Both 1979’s eight- member Big Moon Ensemble and 1984’s 13-person Centering Big Band are links between Coleman’s Double Quartet and Coltrane’s Ascension band and today. Vaulting between inchoate and inspired, the Big Moon tracks are polyrhythmic, polytonal and polyharmonic with the instrumental tessitura stretched to make room for thundering solos from the likes of Carter and Campbell plus trumpeter Arthur Williams and altoist Jameel Moondoc. On tunes such as “Hiroshima Part Two” and “Dedication to Kenneth Patchen” the cumulative effect of the multi-colored free-form cascading is intensified by aboriginal war whoops and unbalanced screams from the band members as they play. Tremolo triplets from Campbell meet Williams’ capillary flutter tonguing on “… Patchen”, as Moondoc’s juddering split tones contrast with Carter’s leaping glossolalia. With Charles and Rashid Bakr both thrashing percussion, Parker and fellow bassist Jay Oliver stroke manfully to finally downshift the collective cascading, only to have it revive with increased ferocity on “Hiroshima”. Stacked horn parts encompassing stop-time screaming and pressurized vibratos are strung out during this nearly 50-minute piece as each musician seems to be trying to outdo the others in ferocity. Instructively the bassist’s later experiments with World music improv are adumbrated in a protracted sequence when his string strumming and the percussion work sound as if they’re emanating from a koto and a taiko drum.

There’s no mistaking the jazz inflections on the five big band selections however. But their modernity is apparent in the resourceful balance among intense riffs from the five saxophones, Parker’s time-keeping plus percussionist Zen Matsura’s cymbal clanks and press rolls as well as stacked and cascading vocal interchange from Christi and fellow vocalist Lisa Sokolov. Intense, heraldic triplets from trumpeters Campbell and Raphe Malik add to the churning excitement of tunes like “Munyaovi”, as first the snorting reeds then the brass section’s triplet expansion match the vocalists in staccato invention. The overall effect isn’t unlike Count Basie’s band at full force playing a swing riff. Space is furthermore made throughout for comforting trombone slurs, twanging rhythmic sequences from Parker and, on Tototo, an alluring balladic line from Moondoc. That piece climaxes with a polyphonic entanglement of the drummer’s harsh ruffs and flams, screaming penny whistle-style brass shrills and guttural baritone sax honks, completed by a slithery sax line that coalesces with harmonized voices.

The big band selections were taped at the 1984 Kool Jazz Festival, one of Parker’s rare high-profile gigs. It may have taken another dozen years to organize the Vision Festival and find the multiplicity of gigs and recordings Parker and his associates now participate in, but this momentous box set confirms that all along experimental music’s foundation was being cultivated slightly out of the public eye.

--Ken Waxman

-- For Whole Note Vol. 18 #2

October 12, 2012

William Parker & ICI Ensemble

Winter Sun Crying
Neos Jazz 41008

Nicolas Caloia Quartet

Tilting

No # No label

Lotte Anker/Craig Taborn/Gerald Cleaver

Floating Islands

ILK 162 CD

Henry Threadgill Zooid

This Brings Us To Volume II

Pi Recording PI 36

Something In The Air: Guelph Jazz Festival 2011

By Ken Waxman

--For Whole Note Vol. 17 #1

A highlight of the international calendar, the Guelph Jazz Festival (GJF), September 7 to 11, has maintained its appeal to both the adventurous and the curious over 18 years. It has done so mixing educational symposia with populist outdoor concerts, featuring performers ranging from established masters to experimenters from all over the world.

For example, American alto saxophonist/flautist Henry Threadgill appears at the River Run Centre on September 10 with his Zooid quintet. A frequent GJF visitor bassist William Paker is featured in at least four ensembles; twice with Toronto vocalist Christine Duncan’s Element Choir Project on September 9 at St. George’s Anglican Church and September 10 at the outdoor Jazz Tent; on September 11 as part of an all-star quartet in Cooperators Hall; and in the same spot on September 8, with pianist Paul Plimley and drummer Gerry Hemingway. Sharing the bill is Tilting, a quartet led by Montreal bassist Nicolas Caloia. Meanwhile Danish saxophonist Lotte Anker is part of an afternoon performance September 10 at Cooperators Hall with two Americans, pianist Craig Taborn and drummer Gerald Cleaver.

Supplely slinky, bouncingly rhythmic and unmistakable original, Zooid’s This Brings Us To Volume II Pi Recording PI 36 clearly delineates Threadgill’s compositional smarts expressed by the band. Many of the tracks depend on the contrasts engendered by mixing Liberty Ellman’s nylon-string guitar licks with the snorts from Jose Davila’s gutbucket trombone or surging tuba plus cross-sticking and rolls from drummer Elliot Humberto Kavee. The most characteristic track is “Polymorph”, with a sardonic melody that suggests Kurt Weill’s Berlin period. Here Threadgill’s astringent saxophone timbres are first framed by snapping frails from Ellman and latter arrive at contrasting double counterpoint with the thick pop of Stomu Takeishi’s bass guitar.

Floating Islands ILK 162 CD) demonstrates the cohesive skills of the Anker/Taborn/Cleaver group. Recorded at the Copenhagen Jazz Festival, the selections demonstrate the trio’s extrasensory perception. With Anker rotating among soprano, alto and tenor saxophones, the band divides according to the improvisation; sections are devoted to saxophone-piano, saxophone-drum or saxophone-drum interaction. Hard reed buzzes bring out cascading choruses from Taborn for instance, while the pianist’s unconventional key clicks are met by the saxophonist’s arching split tones and tongue flutters plus swirling cymbals and snare backbeats. Sometimes the narrative becomes a mass of chiaroscuro patterns from all, with the palpable tension finally breached by Anker’s chirping tones and Taborn’s glissandi. “Backwards River” is an extended example of this, as galloping runs from Taborn arrive after an exposition of gritty reed tones. Before the climax, involving Cleaver knitting rat-tat-tats and tom-tom rolls into a forceful solo, the sax and piano sounds surge from gentle swing to jagged altissimo intersections rife with polyphonic smears.

Combination spark plug and spiritual guide Parker’s gigs at GJF 2011 are with a vocal chorus and two instrumental groupings. Winter Sun Crying recorded with Munich’s nine-piece ICI Ensemble Neos Jazz Neos 41008 demonstrates the skills he brings to groups of any size or instrumentation. The CD captures a 15-part suite which waxes and wanes between legato and atonal contributions. Parker’s contributions on piccolo trumpet, double reeds, shakuhachi and bass are integrated within the composition. As band members move throughout from aleatoric solos to tutti and contrapuntal passages, he adds walking to keyboardist Martin Wolfrum’s precise chording as drummer Sunk Pöschl’s clatters and pops; or lets his pinched reed contrast with upturned harmonies from ICI’s three woodwinds and trombone. The ensemble never nestles in any style or genre. Roger Jannotta’s faux-baroque piccolo decorations are as germane to the performance as Markus Heinze’s guttural baritone sax snorts, while oscillated processes from Gunnar Geisse’s laptop or trombonist Christofer Varner’s sampler are responsible for the composition’s outer-space-like undertone. Meanwhile the downward shifting of Johanna Varner’s spiccato cello lines join with Wolfrum’s dynamic chording to propel the horns away from dissonance towards linearism. The finale, “Let’s Change the World”, not only refers back to the head, but weaves gradually diminishing string scrubs, piano key pummels and alternately breathy or splintering reed tones into an echoing statement.

Another bassist/composer is Caloia, whose Quartet CD Tilting No # No label, is a microcosm of Montreal’s scene. Completed by saxophone/flutist Jean Derome, pianist Guillaume Dostaler and percussionist Isaiah Ceccarelli, the disc highlights the bassist’s approach. While Caloia’s connective ostinato is felt throughout, this high-energy showcase gives everyone space. Impressive on each of his horns, Derome’s bass flute adds appropriately breathy tones, evolving contrapuntally with Dostaler’s comping on “Stare”. Meanwhile the husky textures Derome propels from baritone saxophone make “Locked” a stop-time swinger, especially when Ceccarelli’s solo folds flams, shuffles and ratamacues together. Derome’s singsong alto phrasing is all over the other two pieces, both of which feature brief but attentive solos from Caloia, whose string slaps and thumps concentrate the action. The pianist’s languid note cascades are showcased spectacularly on “Safety” where he interrupts Derome’s forays into false registers with an interlude of harmonized chording and rubato key fanning.

As this group of sound explorers join many other of similar quality during the annual GJF, it’s not surprising that this little festival has reached satisfying maturity without the compromises that impinge on many larger celebrations.

September 5, 2011

FMP In Rückblick

In Retrospect 1969-2010
FMP CD 137 - FMP CD 148

Something in the Air: FMP`s 40th Anniversary

By Ken Waxman

Throughout jazz history, independent labels have typified sounds of the time. In the Swing era it was Commodore; Modern jazz was prominent on Blue Note and Prestige; and with Improvised Music, FMP is one of the longest lasting imprints. Celebrating its 40th anniversary, the Berlin-based label has given listeners a spectacular birthday present with FMP In Rückblick – In Retrospect 1969-2010,12 [!] CDs representing FMP’s past and future – the oldest from 1975, the newest, by American cellist Tristan Honsinger and German guitarist Olaf Rupp from 2010, half previously unissued – plus an LP-sized, 218-page book, lavishly illustrated with contemporary photographs, posters, album covers and a discography.

FMP’s musical scope was overwhelming. In this box, for instance, are discs by an early Pan-European ensemble, the Globe Unity Orchestra (GUO); solo sessions by Belgian pianist Fred Van Hove, German bassist Peter Kowald and others; outstanding combo dates including British saxophonist Evan Parker and Swiss pianist Irène Schweizer; and instances of minimalism from German string-player Hans Reichel and Austrian trombonist Radu Malfatti. Ferocious German saxophonist Peter Brötzmann, who almost single-handedly formulated Free Music in Germany and helped create FMP, is represented on three CDs. No exercise in nostalgia, the book outlines in unsentimental details how the revolutionary climate of the late 1960s sustained the growth of tough, experimental, music modeled on American-influenced Free Jazz. FMP’s value was that by 1971 it was recording distinctively European Free Music, blending layers of contemporary notated and electro-acoustic music, Fluxus art ideas plus folk-based material onto the American base. Triumphs such as FMP’s documentation of American pianist Cecil Taylor and its wide dissemination of essential American, European and created-in-East-Germany discs are also noted.

Broadminded, FMP never asserted European musical superiority however. For example, Steve Lacy Solo 1975 & Quintett 1977 In Berlin CD 02 (FMP CD 138), is a reissue by Americans Lacy on soprano saxophone; alto saxophonist Steve Potts; bassist Kent Carter and drummer Oliver Johnson plus Swiss cellist Irène Aebi. The band’s super-fast harmonies plus the contrast between Potts staccato and linear style and Lacy’s bugle-like moderato blowing atop Carter and Johnson’s Freebop backbeat, demonstrate why the quintet was admired. Most of the CD consists of some of Lacy’s earliest solos, including The Duck. Characteristically that thrilling improvisation is built from a collection of kazoo-like reed bites, split-tone yelps, hissing and rasping growls and muffled mid-range retorts. Lacy defines free music.

Another way to mark the evolution of FMP and European Free Music is by following the thread from Schweizer/Carl/Moholo 1975/77 Messer und… CD 03 (FMP CD 139) to MANUELA+ Live In Berlin 1999 CD 10 (FMP CD 146). Almost 25 years later Rüdiger Carl’s mercurial and atonal saxophone squeals sprayed out in never-ending blasts alongside Louis Moholo’s paced drumming and Schweizer’s percussive pianism with a hint of Stride, has mutated into contradictory but equally aleatory inventions. Now Carl, in the company of Carlos Zingaro’s spiccato violin buzzes, Jin Hi Kim’s throbbing komungo strings, and Reichel’s thumping daxophone rhythms layer the interlude with distinctive colors from his new instruments of choice – light-toned clarinet and pumping accordion glissandi. Without lessening his commitment to improvised sounds the former leather-lunged saxman, now operates in a more placid area, as his quivering intonation toughens the other strings’ tremolo jetes while the daxophone’s strident whines provide comic relief.

Demarcation of a unique style – which suggested a different path than all-out Free Jazz characterized by discs such as Baden-Baden ’75 CD 01 (FMP CD 137), with five previously unissued performances by the 16-piece GUO providing plenty of space for genre-defining reed-splintering solos from Parker and Brötzmann; the soaring triplets of trumpeter Manfred Schoof; plus high-energy piano dynamics from GU leader Alexander von Schlippenbach – was germinated by another of this collection’s reissued CDs. In 1977, trombonist Malfatti’s and guitarist Stephan Wittwer’s UND? ... plus CD 06 (FMP CD 142) conclusively proved that interactive pointillism and polyphony as reductionist chamber improv was another option. Sometimes this strategy involves Wittwer’s kinetic rasgueado seemingly filling all the sonic space, before Malfatti’s puffs, mouthpiece osculation or leaking discordant tones move to the forefront. Despite this, connections are always linear with tracks like Cotpotok (still valid) exhibiting a broken octave coda of koto-like picks from the guitarist plus lower-case slurs and growls from the brass man.

Underlining the sparks he still generates and his importance to FMP, as player, designer and talent scout – the book’s first and final images are of Brötzmann in quartet formation and in frantic performance with Taylor. Similarly besides his GUO affiliation, two other CDs demonstrate the saxophonist’s prowess. Close Up/Die Like A Dog 1994 CD 08 (FMP CD 144), is a hitherto unreleased concert date with one of his most powerful formations: Japanese trumpeter and electronics manipulator Toshinori Kondo, Americans William Parker on bass and Hamid Drake on drums and tablas, plus Brötzmann playing saxophones, tarogato and clarinets; and Wolke in Hosen/Brötzmann Solo 1976 CD 05 (FMP CD 141), the reedist’s first solo disc. On it he shows the breath of his skills, from surprisingly mellow, yet atonally-tinged alto saxophone vibrations on Two Birds is a Feather to the elongated and contrasting contralto and altissimo obbligatos on Piece for Two Clarinets; to how he uses tuba-like blasts and slurs plus heavy flutter tonguing to turn Humpty Dumpty, a showcase for his bass sax, into a jaunty march. Characteristically Close Up demonstrates not only high-quality Free Music, but also other musical currents welcomed by FMP. On the 46-minute Close Up/Man, Kondo’s flutter tongued runs and plunger tones are further fragmented by electronic wave forms, while Drake’s rhythmic tabla pulses suggest World Music. Meantime Brötzmann progressively masticates and splinters dissident ostinatos from tenor saxophone or bass clarinet, using the nephritic friction for call-and-response with the trumpeter’s rubato strategies, and sometimes stopping for speedy spicatto friction from Parker, all backed by the percussionist’s ruffs and pops.

Brötzmann is still going strong 16 years later, as are many improvisers recorded by FMP from its beginning. Nonetheless, as Stretto CD 12 (FMP CD 148) demonstrates, new music still comes from the label. Spiced with aviary field recordings, the eight tracks blend the timbres from cellist Honsinger’s sardonic verbal humor, col legno smacks or enhanced legato quivers with Rupp’s chromatic frails plus spidery finger picking. With new generations to record, perhaps FMP can last for another 40 years.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 16 #7

April 8, 2011

Tony Malaby’s Tamarindo

Live
Clean Feed CF 200CD

By Ken Waxman

Despite the overtly Christian religious iconography on the cover of Tamarindo Live, it would seem that the faith affirmed by this expanded version of saxophonist Tony Malaby’s band is that of free jazz. Moreover, the addition of veteran trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith, certainly no fundamentalist, to the core trio filled out by second-generation drum stylist Nasheet Waits and free jazz’s most omnipresent bassist William Parker, elevates the program to an even higher spiritual and sonic plane.

Malaby, who served his apprenticeship in bands such as bassist’s Mark Helias’ trio, is confident in his solos at this Jazz Gallery session, and contributes four strong compositions. Unsurprisingly, the weightiest is the unadorned “Death Rattle”. Intense friction from Parker’s string rasgueado and Watts’ mercurial press rolls set the scene, elaborated by buzzing grace notes and slurs from the trumpeter and split tone and snorts from the saxophonist. Eventually as the drummer’s ruffs and ratamacues harden into march tempo, a sequence of reed sluices are evoked in double counterpoint to Smith’s capillary brays and bugle-call-like clarion runs. With all four players maintaining the tension, the final variant offers relief following Watts’ cymbal slaps and positioned nerve beats.

Happily the other tracks are more life affirming. “Jack the Hat with Coda” –celebrating Malaby’s son – is tender and temperate, the horns in counterpoint characterized by Smith’s trilling lopes and Malaby’s near-piccolo-tone soprano sax vibrations. As Smith and Malaby advance the line in lockstep, Parker’s stops and strums plus Watts’ bass drum smacks and paradiddles, downshift the theme to subdued concordance, given an added lilt in the dissolving postlude with barely there soprano chirps and trumpet obbligato.

Hopefully more than a one-shot experiment, a quartet Tamarindo is a first-class achievement all around.

Tracks: Buoyant Boy; Death Rattle; Hibiscus; Jack the Hat with Coda

Personnel: Wadada Leo Smith: trumpet; Tony Malaby: tenor and soprano saxophones; William Parker: bass; Nasheet Waits: drums

-- For All About Jazz New York February 2011

February 12, 2011

Jameel Moondoc

Muntu Recordings
No Business Records NBCD 7-8-9

By Ken Waxman

Made up of then-young improvisers who would become better known, Muntu could be described as one of the supergroups of New York’s so-called Loft Era; if the self-aggrandizing term wasn’t antithetical to free music. This handsomely packaged set collects three CDs of the band in different configurations plus a 115-page soft-cover book with a Muntu sessionography and essays on the band, the Black Arts Movement and the Loft Era. Of course this would be mere pretty packaging if the sounds didn’t live up to the hype. Careful listening reveals that Muntu began well and only improved. Only its members’ other projects forced it to dissolve.

Every track here includes the band’s core members: leader and chief composer alto saxophonist Jemeel Moondoc, bassist William Parker and drummer Rashid Bakr. CD3 is a newly unearthed trio session from 1975; CD2 from 1979 is where trumpeter Roy Campbell joins Moondoc, Parker and Bakr; while CD1 is a quintet date with trumpeter Arthur Williams and pianist Mark Hennen plus the core three. While the third disc, featuring a 36½-minute run through of the saxophonist’s “Theme For Milford” is historically interesting, Muntu’s substance is defined on discs one and two.

Parker and Bakr are well-coordinated in their roles on the 1975 date, as the drummer exposes clinking rim shots, cymbal pops and clattering bells while the bassist’s rasgueado and walking evolve in double counterpoint. Unfortunately Moondoc isn’t as convincing. Sluicing timbres downwards and launching altissimo runs upwards he appears to be attempting to play both parts in a composition that calls for front-line counterbalance. At points his line seems to leech onto “A Love Supreme”; elsewhere his timbre squeezes reference Ornette Coleman’s early style. Oddly, before the piece ends with reed-biting cries and flattement, it sounds as if he’s quoting “Stranger in Paradise”.

Suggestions of Coleman’s pace-setting quartet are still present two years later when the five-piece Muntu tackles “Theme For Milford”. But with Williams’ trumpet and Hennen’s piano available for contrast the performance is poised and confident. Passing the theme between the horns, Williams plays moderato while Moondoc chimes in with tremolo slurs and honking trills. When the saxophonist turns to glossolalia and note undulations, the trumpeter’s dirty, triplet-laden whines correspond perfectly. Also notable are staccato crackles from Parker. Making the most of his space, Hennen begins with near-prepared-piano pumps than accelerates to jagged runs and rhythmic chording. “Flight (From The Yellow Dog)” is more of the same. Drum rolls, ruffs and rebounds; pounding piano keys; slurry tattoos from the trumpeter; stop-time bass work; and broken-octave reed slithering characterize it. Contrapuntally organized, Williams makes his most characteristic statement here with soaring brays or air pushed almost soundlessly through his horn.

Lacking a chordal instrument, the 1979 quartet with Campbell still produces a sound that is more textured than anything the band had yet created, especially on “The Evening Of The Blue Men, Part 3 (Double Expo)”. Bakr’s clattering cymbals and bass drum pops almost take on bop coloration while Parker counters with wild spiccato sawing. Moondoc masticates his reed into multiphonics alongside Campbell high-pitched theme variations. The band had also evolved to a point where the ballad “Theme For Diane” is treated with appropriate muted tenderness. A smooth trumpet obbligato decorates the saxophonist’s ornamental line, followed by an understated bass solo.

Bakr and Parker’s high-calibre work quickly drew the attention of pianist Cecil Taylor and both joined the Taylor Unit. Eventually Muntu dissolved. Since that time Moondoc gigs internationally as a sideman and with his own groups. Parker has become one of the most visible experimental players with a variety of projects on the go. Campbell leads his own bands and plays in other ensembles; while Hennen is part of the Collective 4tet. Star-crossed Williams’ heroin addiction and metal illness forced him off the scene, even before Campbell joined Muntu.

Like many other lesser-known groups, Muntu was a band which epitomized a particular time. Since its deficiencies were circumstantial and economic despite a wealth of talent, the band should have attained lasting fame and financial rewards. It didn’t, but at least this set captures Muntu at its musical heights.

Track Listing: CD 1: First Feeding; Flight (From The Yellow Dog); Theme For Milford (Mr. Body & Soul) CD 2: The Evening Of The Blue Men, Part 3 (Double Expo); Theme For Diane CD 3: Theme For Milford (Mr. Body and Soul)

Personnel: CD 1: Arthur Williams: trumpet; Jemeel Moondoc: alto saxophone; Mark Hennen: piano; William Parker: bass; Rashid Bakr: drums CD2: Roy Campbell Jr.: trumpet); Moondoc; Parker; Bakr CD3: Moondoc; Parker; Bakr

-- For All About Jazz-New York July 2010

July 8, 2010

Matthew Shipp

Nu Bop Live
Rai Trade RTPJ 0015

The Frame Quartet

35 MM

Okka Disk OD 12078

Rempis/Rosaly

Cyrillic

482 Music 482-1064

Connie Crothers-Michel Bisio

Sessions at 475 Kent

Mutable 17537-2

Extended Play: Combos: Ad Hoc and Long Constituted in Toronto

By Ken Waxman

Long-established jazz groups have become as common as pop hits based on Mozart melodies topping the charts – they sometimes exist. But with accomplished improvisers tempted by side projects, bands often reconstitute and sidemen regularly have their own gigs. In most cases, though, this doesn’t affect the music’s quality.

Two bands confirm these realities. Ken Vandermark’s Vandermark5 (V5), which is at SPK (Polish Combatants Hall) June 17, has been together with only one personnel change for almost 15 years. Yet even Chicago-based Vandermark is involved in multiple side projects, as The Frame Quartet 35 mm Okka Disk OD 12078 demonstrates. V5 members, cellist and electronics-player Fred Lonberg-Holm and drummer Tim Daisy are represented as well. Meanwhile saxophonist Dave Rempis, a V5 fixture for 10 years, shines on Cyrillic 482 Music 482-1064, a duo with drummer Frank Rosaly. New York pianist Matthew Shipp, whose trio plays June13 at Gallery 345 on Sorauren Ave. is similarly part of numberless formations. Nu Bop Live Rai Trade RTPJ 0015) involves some of his cohorts, who won’t be Toronto. For an idea of what piano/bass communication sounds like involving Michel Bisio, the bassist who is in Shipp’s Toronto trio, there’s Sessions at 475 Kent Mutable 17537-2 with Connie Crothers.

The Non-V5er on “35mm” is Nate McBride, whose thick acoustic bass lines, electric bass thumps and manipulated wave forms distinguish this disc. Strident friction from Lonberg-Holm additionally gives the CD’s five long selection a rough-hewn quality, enhanced by Daisy’s reverberating and pinpointed cymbal slaps, not to mention Vandermark’s soloing which encompasses straight-ahead licks or tongue slaps on tenor saxophone and feathery clarinet trills. This is especially notable on Theatre Piece (for Jimmy Lyons) which links decisive sawing from the cellist, restrained plucks from the bassist and clatters, pops and rim shots from the drummer as Vandermark sound ranges from tremolo pitch-sliding on the clarinet to tongue-moistured saxophone flattement, flutters and split tones. Mid-way through, the tempo halves to allegro to expose faux romantic cello sequences that gradually shatters into sul ponticello lines mated with harsh, low-pitched saxophone rasps, balanced on crackling and buzzing electronics. Eventually the piece ends with an exposition of disconnected timbre-shredding from Vandermark and a conclusive string slap from the cellist.

Halve the number of players and double the performance intensity for “Cyrillic”. Completely improvised, the selections include those with cymbal-chiming funk grooves, replete with honking reed patterns plus others featuring smeared double-tonguing from Rempis, where he never seems to stop for breath, matched with rim shots and side spanks from Rosaly. Most impressive are In Plain Sight and How to Cross When Bridges are Out. The former, which could be a deconstructed classic R&B line, gains its rhythmic impetus from Rempis’ guttural baritone saxophone snorts. The later is like a face off between never-ending ratcheting, rolls and ruffs from Rosaly’s Energizer Bunny-like drumming and Rempis’ Eric Dolphyish-alto saxophone with its broken-octave staccato runs and wide split tones. Changing the the agitato tempo to andante, the tune slips into uncharted aleatory territory, echoing with excitement and abandon.

Both those adjectives are also on show on Shipp’s CD, especially on the 26-minute Nu Abstract suite. Putting aside the many-fingered staccato patterning on other tunes, the pianist initially restricts himself to occasional plinks, as drummer Guillermo Brown use electronics to unload crackling signal processing and hissing voice patches. After the pianist constructs a many-layered impressionistic response, he joins with William Parker’s fluid bass line and saxophonist Daniel Carter’s tightened reed snarls, in multi counterpoint. The performance swells to shrieking horn glossolalia, stretched and scattered bass-string movements and the pianist’s cascading note patterns. Climaxing alongside Brown’s explosions of drags and bounces, Shipp’s raw, exposed notes layer the interface alongside Carter’s strident altissimo cries and Parker’s triple-stopping.

Sophisticated piano-bass double contrapuntal interaction get an even better showcase on “Session at 475 Kent” as every tune is a culmination of Crothers’ thickly voiced, chromatic chords working out a challenge or response to Bisio’s chiming, slapping string reverberations. Chamber interludes, the CD’s four lengthy tracks evolve similarly to Resonance, the CD’s climatic finale. With Bisio double-stopping and pulling his strings fortissimo, Crothers’ glissandi and metronomic pumping, gradually give the sympathetic dynamic a novel undercurrent of unrelieved tension – embellished by the pianist’s strumming syncopation and the bassist’s woody string-stopping. Lightening her touch with freer harmonies, Bisio follows and shifts downwards into diminished pulses until the notes from both directions merge into a satisfying, protoplasmic whole.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 15 #9

June 1, 2010

William Parker

At Somewhere There
Barnyard Records BR 0313

An almost hour-long solo recital may seem daunting, but New York bassist William Parker easily impresses, as this bravura invention recorded at a local performance space attests. Cathedral Wisdom Light, this CD’s over-48-minute showpiece, is animated by his nearly limitless technique which prods, pulses, pummels and propels polyphonic tones and textures from the four-strings and resonating wood of the bull fiddle.

Resolutely arco – although sporadic plucks sometimes parallel the bow movement – the tempo is never less than andante and more than allegro. Within these parameters Parker layers phrases, note clusters and unexpected vamps, chafing wood and splitting string tones as well as agitato stops and chunky sul tasto expansions into the multiphonic narrative. As the shuffle-bowed fantasia evolves, taunt, creaking and swabbed timbres distend so that these pressured strokes shudder with affiliated partials as well as fundamental notes. Sometimes displaying portamento finesse, at points Parker mercurially showcases split-second variants on reveille, parallel bebop vamps and even a minor variant on legato chamber music.

With every part of the instrument in use, including the belly, waist and the strings beneath the bridge, the bassist is able to craftily shift the tonal centre throughout, introducing novel harmonies and rubato asides to the ongoing improvisation. A final variant drives the chromatic performance to a mellower low-pitched climax, before replicating the exposition with shrill sawing.

Short addenda on dousin’gouni and double flute complete the program, but after Parker’s exceptional bass solo, these are somewhat akin to hearing Glenn Gould’s harpsichord recording.

-- Ken Waxman

-- For Whole Note Vol. 15 #8

May 7, 2010

Joëlle Léandre & Quentin SirJacq

Out of Nowhere
Ambiance Magnétique AM 184

Joëlle Léandre & William Parker

Live at Dunois

Leo CD LR 535

Joëlle Léandre-George Lewis

Transatlantic Visions

RogueArt ROG-0020

Joëlle Léandre

Live in Israel

Kadima KCR 17

Joëlle Léandre & Quentin SirJacq

Out of Nowhere

Ambiance MagnétiqueAM184

Extended Play: Joëlle Léandre

By Ken Waxman

A masterful and distinctive soloist, French bassist Joëlle Léandre is versatile in any musical situation. These impressive CDs showcase her improvisational skills, while elsewhere the conservatory-trained Parisian is as comfortable with notated music, often performing studies written for her by composers such as John Cage and Giancinto Scelsi.

One of the two CDs that make up Joëlle Léandre Live in Israel (Kadima KCR 17 verifies her solo skill. This showcase includes exposition, theme variations and finale, without being conventionally programmatic. Equally strident and soothing, her string strokes include thick rhythmic scrubs and spiccato patterning that produce not only initial tones, but also corresponding echoes. Lyrical and romantic on one hand, her harsh string sweeping also expands with snaps, taps and banjo-like frails. Sometimes she vocalizes as she plays, adding another dimension to the performance.

Commanding on her own, she inserts herself into groups without fissure. In a sextet on the companion CD featuring Israeli reedists, her triple-stopped advances lock in with the horns’ contrapuntal key-slipping and trill spraying. Never upsetting balanced reed bites, her sul tasto expansions amplify the crunching dynamics of pianist Daniel Sarid, while her wood-slapping pulse operates in tandem with the flams and bounces of drummer Haggai Fershtman. In trio interaction with bassist JC Jones and saxophonist Stephen Horenstein, she lets the other bassist time-keep with col legno stops, while she string-snaps and pumps. Her bel canto warbling not only adds another texture, but also joins in double counterpoint with the saxophonist’s rubato tonguing.

More reductive, Joëlle Léandre & William Parker Live at Dunois (Leo CD LR 535 captures a bravura showcase for Léandre and Manhattan’s William Parker, whose jazz-honed techniques are as celebrated as hers. Performance roles are defined: Parker thumps, walks and slaps in pedal point, while Léandre uses her bow to swirl rococo tinctures that encompass agitated peaks and valleys of flying spiccato. This isn’t a brawl but an expression of mutual respect. At points both combine strokes as polyphonic textures rappel every which way. Reaching an intermezzo of floating concussion and friction, the two fuse as if they were playing an eight-stringed bas. Unbroken portamento runs echoing in double counterpoint, although each maintains individual identity.

As with the Stone Quartet in Guelph, Léandre has an affinity for brass and piano players. Joëlle Léandre-George Lewis Transatlantic Visions (RogueArt ROG-0020 and Joëlle Léandre & Quentin Sirjacq Out of Nowhere (Ambiance MagnétiqueAM184 confirm this. The first is a meeting between the bassist and American trombonist Lewis, with whom she has worked for decades. Sirjacq is a French pianist she has just begun to partner. Familiarity and novelty produce equivalently outstanding CDs.

Chamber music-like in its initial delicacy, her duet with the pianist becomes intense as vibrating bass harmonies encourage Sirjacq to toughen his output. Soon her jagged arpeggios and glissandi are met by metronomic pounding, key fanning and internal string plucking from the pianist. Anything but equal temperament, stopped soundboard buzzes on “Ruin” are joined by church-bell like gongs from Sirjacq, as Léandre doubles her sul ponticello bowing, while growling nonsense syllables. In the penultimate “Awakening” her quivering bowing is bisected by a flurry of kinetic key patterns. Finally “Closing” mates her flamenco-like rubs with his construction of an edifice of expansive arpeggios and cascading chording; reintroducing the theme for musical closure.

In contrast to the tentative exposition on Out of Nowhere, Léandre and Lewis are fully attuned from the get-go and stay that way. Announcing herself with a guttural snarl, at points she vocalizes alongside her string strokes. In addition to sweeping glissandi and staccato string-scouring, Léandre yowls as Lewis’ lows gutbucket tones. In response to her sul tasto runs, the trombonist exposes rotund tones and rubato yelps. If he showcases subterranean grace notes from inside his horn, she smacks the strings col legno. Sounding as if they could stretch their instruments tessitura indefinitely, they reach a climax at the half-way point as glottal stops from Lewis are complemented by pumped arpeggios and contrapuntal strumming from Léandre.

But perhaps the most palpable testimony to Léandre’s sonic versatility is the tracks she shares with oud player/vocalist Sameer Makhoul on Live in Israel. Despite the oud’s five pairs of strings compared to her four, she manages to advance buzzing timbres that perfectly match his breakneck finger-picking. Not only that, but her rhythmic breaths and free-form chanting complement his vocalized glossolalia so that the two sound as if they’re performing a Middle Eastern operetta.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 15 #1

September 4, 2009

Joëlle Léandre

Live in Israel
Kadima KCR 17

Joëlle Léandre & William Parker

Live at Dunois

Leo CD LR 535

Joëlle Léandre-George Lewis

Transatlantic Visions

RogueArt ROG-0020

Joëlle Léandre & Quentin SirJacq

Out of Nowhere

Ambiance MagnétiqueAM184

Extended Play: Joëlle Léandre

By Ken Waxman

A masterful and distinctive soloist, French bassist Joëlle Léandre is versatile in any musical situation. These impressive CDs showcase her improvisational skills, while elsewhere the conservatory-trained Parisian is as comfortable with notated music, often performing studies written for her by composers such as John Cage and Giancinto Scelsi.

One of the two CDs that make up Joëlle Léandre Live in Israel (Kadima KCR 17 verifies her solo skill. This showcase includes exposition, theme variations and finale, without being conventionally programmatic. Equally strident and soothing, her string strokes include thick rhythmic scrubs and spiccato patterning that produce not only initial tones, but also corresponding echoes. Lyrical and romantic on one hand, her harsh string sweeping also expands with snaps, taps and banjo-like frails. Sometimes she vocalizes as she plays, adding another dimension to the performance.

Commanding on her own, she inserts herself into groups without fissure. In a sextet on the companion CD featuring Israeli reedists, her triple-stopped advances lock in with the horns’ contrapuntal key-slipping and trill spraying. Never upsetting balanced reed bites, her sul tasto expansions amplify the crunching dynamics of pianist Daniel Sarid, while her wood-slapping pulse operates in tandem with the flams and bounces of drummer Haggai Fershtman. In trio interaction with bassist JC Jones and saxophonist Stephen Horenstein, she lets the other bassist time-keep with col legno stops, while she string-snaps and pumps. Her bel canto warbling not only adds another texture, but also joins in double counterpoint with the saxophonist’s rubato tonguing.

More reductive, Joëlle Léandre & William Parker Live at Dunois (Leo CD LR 535 captures a bravura showcase for Léandre and Manhattan’s William Parker, whose jazz-honed techniques are as celebrated as hers. Performance roles are defined: Parker thumps, walks and slaps in pedal point, while Léandre uses her bow to swirl rococo tinctures that encompass agitated peaks and valleys of flying spiccato. This isn’t a brawl but an expression of mutual respect. At points both combine strokes as polyphonic textures rappel every which way. Reaching an intermezzo of floating concussion and friction, the two fuse as if they were playing an eight-stringed bas. Unbroken portamento runs echoing in double counterpoint, although each maintains individual identity.

As with the Stone Quartet in Guelph, Léandre has an affinity for brass and piano players. Joëlle Léandre-George Lewis Transatlantic Visions (RogueArt ROG-0020 and Joëlle Léandre & Quentin Sirjacq Out of Nowhere (Ambiance MagnétiqueAM184 confirm this. The first is a meeting between the bassist and American trombonist Lewis, with whom she has worked for decades. Sirjacq is a French pianist she has just begun to partner. Familiarity and novelty produce equivalently outstanding CDs.

Chamber music-like in its initial delicacy, her duet with the pianist becomes intense as vibrating bass harmonies encourage Sirjacq to toughen his output. Soon her jagged arpeggios and glissandi are met by metronomic pounding, key fanning and internal string plucking from the pianist. Anything but equal temperament, stopped soundboard buzzes on “Ruin” are joined by church-bell like gongs from Sirjacq, as Léandre doubles her sul ponticello bowing, while growling nonsense syllables. In the penultimate “Awakening” her quivering bowing is bisected by a flurry of kinetic key patterns. Finally “Closing” mates her flamenco-like rubs with his construction of an edifice of expansive arpeggios and cascading chording; reintroducing the theme for musical closure.

In contrast to the tentative exposition on Out of Nowhere, Léandre and Lewis are fully attuned from the get-go and stay that way. Announcing herself with a guttural snarl, at points she vocalizes alongside her string strokes. In addition to sweeping glissandi and staccato string-scouring, Léandre yowls as Lewis’ lows gutbucket tones. In response to her sul tasto runs, the trombonist exposes rotund tones and rubato yelps. If he showcases subterranean grace notes from inside his horn, she smacks the strings col legno. Sounding as if they could stretch their instruments tessitura indefinitely, they reach a climax at the half-way point as glottal stops from Lewis are complemented by pumped arpeggios and contrapuntal strumming from Léandre.

But perhaps the most palpable testimony to Léandre’s sonic versatility is the tracks she shares with oud player/vocalist Sameer Makhoul on Live in Israel. Despite the oud’s five pairs of strings compared to her four, she manages to advance buzzing timbres that perfectly match his breakneck finger-picking. Not only that, but her rhythmic breaths and free-form chanting complement his vocalized glossolalia so that the two sound as if they’re performing a Middle Eastern operetta.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 15 #1

September 4, 2009

Joëlle Léandre-George Lewis

Transatlantic Visions
RogueArt ROG-0020

Joëlle Léandre

Live in Israel

Kadima KCR 17

Joëlle Léandre & Quentin SirJacq

Out of Nowhere

Ambiance MagnétiqueAM184

Joëlle Léandre & William Parker

Live at Dunois

Leo CD LR 535

Extended Play: Joëlle Léandre

By Ken Waxman

A masterful and distinctive soloist, French bassist Joëlle Léandre is versatile in any musical situation. These impressive CDs showcase her improvisational skills, while elsewhere the conservatory-trained Parisian is as comfortable with notated music, often performing studies written for her by composers such as John Cage and Giancinto Scelsi.

One of the two CDs that make up Joëlle Léandre Live in Israel (Kadima KCR 17 verifies her solo skill. This showcase includes exposition, theme variations and finale, without being conventionally programmatic. Equally strident and soothing, her string strokes include thick rhythmic scrubs and spiccato patterning that produce not only initial tones, but also corresponding echoes. Lyrical and romantic on one hand, her harsh string sweeping also expands with snaps, taps and banjo-like frails. Sometimes she vocalizes as she plays, adding another dimension to the performance.

Commanding on her own, she inserts herself into groups without fissure. In a sextet on the companion CD featuring Israeli reedists, her triple-stopped advances lock in with the horns’ contrapuntal key-slipping and trill spraying. Never upsetting balanced reed bites, her sul tasto expansions amplify the crunching dynamics of pianist Daniel Sarid, while her wood-slapping pulse operates in tandem with the flams and bounces of drummer Haggai Fershtman. In trio interaction with bassist JC Jones and saxophonist Stephen Horenstein, she lets the other bassist time-keep with col legno stops, while she string-snaps and pumps. Her bel canto warbling not only adds another texture, but also joins in double counterpoint with the saxophonist’s rubato tonguing.

More reductive, Joëlle Léandre & William Parker Live at Dunois (Leo CD LR 535 captures a bravura showcase for Léandre and Manhattan’s William Parker, whose jazz-honed techniques are as celebrated as hers. Performance roles are defined: Parker thumps, walks and slaps in pedal point, while Léandre uses her bow to swirl rococo tinctures that encompass agitated peaks and valleys of flying spiccato. This isn’t a brawl but an expression of mutual respect. At points both combine strokes as polyphonic textures rappel every which way. Reaching an intermezzo of floating concussion and friction, the two fuse as if they were playing an eight-stringed bas. Unbroken portamento runs echoing in double counterpoint, although each maintains individual identity.

As with the Stone Quartet in Guelph, Léandre has an affinity for brass and piano players. Joëlle Léandre-George Lewis Transatlantic Visions (RogueArt ROG-0020 and Joëlle Léandre & Quentin Sirjacq Out of Nowhere (Ambiance MagnétiqueAM184 confirm this. The first is a meeting between the bassist and American trombonist Lewis, with whom she has worked for decades. Sirjacq is a French pianist she has just begun to partner. Familiarity and novelty produce equivalently outstanding CDs.

Chamber music-like in its initial delicacy, her duet with the pianist becomes intense as vibrating bass harmonies encourage Sirjacq to toughen his output. Soon her jagged arpeggios and glissandi are met by metronomic pounding, key fanning and internal string plucking from the pianist. Anything but equal temperament, stopped soundboard buzzes on “Ruin” are joined by church-bell like gongs from Sirjacq, as Léandre doubles her sul ponticello bowing, while growling nonsense syllables. In the penultimate “Awakening” her quivering bowing is bisected by a flurry of kinetic key patterns. Finally “Closing” mates her flamenco-like rubs with his construction of an edifice of expansive arpeggios and cascading chording; reintroducing the theme for musical closure.

In contrast to the tentative exposition on Out of Nowhere, Léandre and Lewis are fully attuned from the get-go and stay that way. Announcing herself with a guttural snarl, at points she vocalizes alongside her string strokes. In addition to sweeping glissandi and staccato string-scouring, Léandre yowls as Lewis’ lows gutbucket tones. In response to her sul tasto runs, the trombonist exposes rotund tones and rubato yelps. If he showcases subterranean grace notes from inside his horn, she smacks the strings col legno. Sounding as if they could stretch their instruments tessitura indefinitely, they reach a climax at the half-way point as glottal stops from Lewis are complemented by pumped arpeggios and contrapuntal strumming from Léandre.

But perhaps the most palpable testimony to Léandre’s sonic versatility is the tracks she shares with oud player/vocalist Sameer Makhoul on Live in Israel. Despite the oud’s five pairs of strings compared to her four, she manages to advance buzzing timbres that perfectly match his breakneck finger-picking. Not only that, but her rhythmic breaths and free-form chanting complement his vocalized glossolalia so that the two sound as if they’re performing a Middle Eastern operetta.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 15 #1

September 4, 2009

Joëlle Léandre & William Parker

Live at Dunois
Leo CD LR 535

Joëlle Léandre-George Lewis

Transatlantic Visions

RogueArt ROG-0020

Joëlle Léandre

Live in Israel

Kadima KCR 17

Joëlle Léandre & Quentin SirJacq

Out of Nowhere

Ambiance MagnétiqueAM184

Extended Play: Joëlle Léandre

By Ken Waxman

A masterful and distinctive soloist, French bassist Joëlle Léandre is versatile in any musical situation. These impressive CDs showcase her improvisational skills, while elsewhere the conservatory-trained Parisian is as comfortable with notated music, often performing studies written for her by composers such as John Cage and Giancinto Scelsi.

One of the two CDs that make up Joëlle Léandre Live in Israel (Kadima KCR 17 verifies her solo skill. This showcase includes exposition, theme variations and finale, without being conventionally programmatic. Equally strident and soothing, her string strokes include thick rhythmic scrubs and spiccato patterning that produce not only initial tones, but also corresponding echoes. Lyrical and romantic on one hand, her harsh string sweeping also expands with snaps, taps and banjo-like frails. Sometimes she vocalizes as she plays, adding another dimension to the performance.

Commanding on her own, she inserts herself into groups without fissure. In a sextet on the companion CD featuring Israeli reedists, her triple-stopped advances lock in with the horns’ contrapuntal key-slipping and trill spraying. Never upsetting balanced reed bites, her sul tasto expansions amplify the crunching dynamics of pianist Daniel Sarid, while her wood-slapping pulse operates in tandem with the flams and bounces of drummer Haggai Fershtman. In trio interaction with bassist JC Jones and saxophonist Stephen Horenstein, she lets the other bassist time-keep with col legno stops, while she string-snaps and pumps. Her bel canto warbling not only adds another texture, but also joins in double counterpoint with the saxophonist’s rubato tonguing.

More reductive, Joëlle Léandre & William Parker Live at Dunois (Leo CD LR 535 captures a bravura showcase for Léandre and Manhattan’s William Parker, whose jazz-honed techniques are as celebrated as hers. Performance roles are defined: Parker thumps, walks and slaps in pedal point, while Léandre uses her bow to swirl rococo tinctures that encompass agitated peaks and valleys of flying spiccato. This isn’t a brawl but an expression of mutual respect. At points both combine strokes as polyphonic textures rappel every which way. Reaching an intermezzo of floating concussion and friction, the two fuse as if they were playing an eight-stringed bas. Unbroken portamento runs echoing in double counterpoint, although each maintains individual identity.

As with the Stone Quartet in Guelph, Léandre has an affinity for brass and piano players. Joëlle Léandre-George Lewis Transatlantic Visions (RogueArt ROG-0020 and Joëlle Léandre & Quentin Sirjacq Out of Nowhere (Ambiance MagnétiqueAM184 confirm this. The first is a meeting between the bassist and American trombonist Lewis, with whom she has worked for decades. Sirjacq is a French pianist she has just begun to partner. Familiarity and novelty produce equivalently outstanding CDs.

Chamber music-like in its initial delicacy, her duet with the pianist becomes intense as vibrating bass harmonies encourage Sirjacq to toughen his output. Soon her jagged arpeggios and glissandi are met by metronomic pounding, key fanning and internal string plucking from the pianist. Anything but equal temperament, stopped soundboard buzzes on “Ruin” are joined by church-bell like gongs from Sirjacq, as Léandre doubles her sul ponticello bowing, while growling nonsense syllables. In the penultimate “Awakening” her quivering bowing is bisected by a flurry of kinetic key patterns. Finally “Closing” mates her flamenco-like rubs with his construction of an edifice of expansive arpeggios and cascading chording; reintroducing the theme for musical closure.

In contrast to the tentative exposition on Out of Nowhere, Léandre and Lewis are fully attuned from the get-go and stay that way. Announcing herself with a guttural snarl, at points she vocalizes alongside her string strokes. In addition to sweeping glissandi and staccato string-scouring, Léandre yowls as Lewis’ lows gutbucket tones. In response to her sul tasto runs, the trombonist exposes rotund tones and rubato yelps. If he showcases subterranean grace notes from inside his horn, she smacks the strings col legno. Sounding as if they could stretch their instruments tessitura indefinitely, they reach a climax at the half-way point as glottal stops from Lewis are complemented by pumped arpeggios and contrapuntal strumming from Léandre.

But perhaps the most palpable testimony to Léandre’s sonic versatility is the tracks she shares with oud player/vocalist Sameer Makhoul on Live in Israel. Despite the oud’s five pairs of strings compared to her four, she manages to advance buzzing timbres that perfectly match his breakneck finger-picking. Not only that, but her rhythmic breaths and free-form chanting complement his vocalized glossolalia so that the two sound as if they’re performing a Middle Eastern operetta.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 15 #1

September 4, 2009

Kidd Jordan

The Vision Festival New York
June 11, 2008

Figuratively – and usually single-handedly – carrying the banner for experimental Jazz in New Orleans for many years, tenor saxophonist Edward “Kidd” Jordan, 73, must have felt metaphorically out-in-the-cold on many occasions. But heat was certainly in evidence – literally and emotionally – mid-June in New York as a turn-away crowd helped celebrate the reedman’s Lifetime Achievement with a series of concerts.

Highlight of the 13th Annual Vision Festival that took place at the Lower East Side’s Clemente Soto Velez Cultural Center, the five sets honoring Jordan were hot – as was the venue. Despite a few strategically placed revolving fans, the temperature hovered around 35 degrees Celsius in the venerable space, with body heat from the packed audiences adding to the ventilation challenges.

Besides working as a sideman in Crescent City bands and an educator at Southern University, introducing generations of students – including his own children – to improvised music, Jordan has been playing “outside” since the 1960s, but wasn’t really recognized until collaborating with outsiders in the late 1970s. His most affecting work during the festival was with two of those ensembles.

Culmination of the evening was an incendiary workout between Jordan and another Free Jazz pioneer, 79-year-old tenor saxophonist Fred Anderson of Chicago backed by the unbeatable rhythm section of Chicago’s Hamid Drake on drums and New York’s William Parker on bass. Earlier there was as impressive a collaboration with some of Jordan’s Southern associates: pianist Joel Futterman from Virginia, New Orleans trumpeter Clyde Kerr, plus Parker and – subbing for indisposed Mississippi-based drummer Alvin Fielder – New York drummer Gerald Cleaver. As if he was playing at New Orleans’ Preservation Hall, Kerr remained seated on a chair throughout the set.

Perhaps the most notable part of this meeting was how seamlessly the full rounded tone of Kerr’s trumpet fit with Jordan’s split tones and frequent altissimo excursions, plus Futterman’s hunts, pecks and stops both inside on the piano strings and on the keyboard. Kerr’s burbling, heraldic timbres and carefully measured lines existed besides, but not quite in the same time-space as the other four. Yet even as Futterman jabbed the keys and Parker played sul tasto vibrations, Jordan made common cause with the brass man without altering his characteristic style. Knitting quotes from late period John Coltrane ballads and the familiar “Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child” to Kerr’s grace notes, Jordan ensured harmonic inclusion, with the improvisation’s conclusion as tender as a lullaby.

The saxophonist’s gift for melodic interpolation was used even more effectively in the evening’s first set which matched his long-lined theme elaboration with the baritone saxophonist Hamiet Bluiett’s high pitches. Backed by Dave Burrell pounding high frequency piano chords and Maynard Chatters stretching the piano strings, the baritonist however seemed to feel he had to mirror every one of Jordan’s excursions into altissimo, shrilling similar pitches on his larger horn. Rarely was the baritone’s basso timbre properly exploited. But again – with some help from Burrell’s boogie-woogie-like arpeggios – it was Jordan who kept the exposition on an even keel.

Segueing into “Body and Soul” references, he moderated the bigger saxophone’s altissimo blats. Following Chatters’ piano string scraping and Burrell’s song-like patterning, Jordan interpolated the hymn “Wade in the Water” into the mix, had the melody doubled with gospel chording from Burrell and finally had it accepted by a more relaxed Bluiett.

Jordan could relax himself in a later set of nimble swing that paired him with animated violinist Billy Bang, backed by Parker and Drake. With the bassist flaying his strings rhythmically and the drummer sounding a powerful backbeat, the bravura front line lobbed sound shards at one another – but shards that owed more to the blues than dodecaphony.

Often operating in double counterpoint, the two were a study in contrasts. Bang, who sometimes swayed in an Elvis-like snake-hipped dance as he double-stopped and picked at near warp-like speed, faced Jordan, who at one point sprawled on a nearby chair and fired off chorus-after-chorus of multiphonics and double tonguing while foot-tapping. With Bang replicating participation in a demented hoedown, the saxophonist varied his responses with Woody Woodpecker-like cries and staccato trills. Finally over a chorus of brittle, jagged sweeps from Bang, he shouted out a series of vocalized exhortations, which rather than being disruptive, fit jigsaw-puzzle-piece-like with the fiddler’s runs.

Jordan’s skills so energized Bang’s imagination, that in the late-night finale, after prowling the stage, he made an unannounced addition to the Anderson-Jordan quartet romp. So too, mid-way through that set, did another veteran Chicago tenor saxophonist, Kalaparusha Maurice McIntyre. Unlike Bang whose broken octave confrontation with Anderson and Jordan provided spirited contrapuntal lines to the dual tenor’s exposition, McIntyre merely vamped, and his sound was eventually subsumed beneath the churning Parker-Drake rhythm section.

Upfront Anderson and Jordan perfectly complemented one another. Despite the geographic gap, the two have worked frequently in a quartet configuration since the late 1980s, after discovering they were reedists of a similar age, who had been attempting similar experiments independently of one another. That night, preferring staccato breaks and splintered altissimo runs, the animated Jordan’s improvisations were easily distinguished from Anderson’s, whose meditative exposition is explicitly linked to the classic tenor saxophone tradition that encompasses Coleman Hawkins as well as John Coltrane.

Someone who bends into a semi-crouch when he plays, Anderson expanded his sounds with foghorn honks, while Jordan splayed split tones, alternating with sudden reed bites. With Bang playing near-saxophone-like lines as well, the three produced a series of chases and shouts. Eventually the tune turned towards steady blues progression as Parker walked and slapped and Drake thickly press rolled the beat. Diminuendo, the tune climaxed as the saxophone honked lustily and gradually more softly.

Each of these varied collaborations made it clear why Jordan had been honored. Although his saxophone conception takes its basic vocabulary from the advances of John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman, unlike some others he was quickly able to escape their influence and forge his own style. Another saxophone veteran of the 1960s, altoist Sonny Simmons who played in the next day, provided a contrasting example of someone who never escaped the Trane-Coleman trajectory.

Jordan, who wryly noted that if you live long enough you become appreciated, also deserved his accolades for passing on improvisation skills to further generations, even if – like his own sons, trumpeter Marlon Jordan and flutist Kent Jordan, who played less interesting contemporary sounds with their own band in a set honoring their father that night – the aim becomes professionalism rather than invention.

--Ken Waxman

-- For MusicWorks Issue #102

November 20, 2008

By Any Means

Live at Crescendo
Ayler Records aylCD- 077/078

Charles Gayle, William Parker & Rashied Ali

Touchin’ On Trane

Jazzwerkstatt JW024

Almost 16 years to the day separate these two live sessions, yet not one member of this trio of veteran players appears to have lost his edge or gusto.

Dispelling once again the old shibboleth that jazz is a young man’s game, saxophonist Charles Gayle, 68, drummer Rashied Ali, 73, and bassist William Parker, 56, create enough fire and commitment – mixed with experience – on both sets to enliven any program of improvised music.

Perhaps it’s because none has ever given in to the blandishments of more commercial music, but continues to follow a self-defined path, no matter the consequences. Senior statesman Ali is still best-known for his 1960s collaborations with John Coltrane, but he has participated in a variety of exploratory sessions since then. A fearless proselytizer and organizer for Free Jazz, Parker’s ensembles range from duos to big bands, yet he still finds time to help organize New York’s annual Vision Festival. Most mystifying of the three is Gayle, who seemed to suddenly materialize in New York in his forties, fully formed and ready to extend unadulterated Free Jazz into the 21st Century. Since then he has also revealed a quirky piano style. However – and this appears to be the trio’s only concession to advancing years – his characteristic screaming timbres are now the product of the alto saxophone’s upper reaches, rather than that of the tenor saxophone he formerly favoured

Recorded in Berlin in 1991, Touchin’ On Trane is the touchstone for this trio: an announcement of how well the hitherto unconnected three improvised together. Parker rhythmically walks through most of the five tunes; Ali’s strategy is low-key, encompassing vibrating rim shots, hi-hat slashing and press rolls, while Gayle’s trills, squeaks and reed bites extend Sonny Rollins’ work of the mid-1960s – rather then that of Trane. Listening to this CD in retrospect however, reveals just how much “in the tradition” the three were – and are – despite the neo-con mainstream rhetoric that was its nosiest at that time.

Parker’s sul ponticello sweeps mixed with slaps push Gayle to an even higher plane on “Part C” as the saxophonist’s whinnying and double-tonguing escalates from gritty growls to ejaculating juicy, splayed split tones – as if the suddenly released emotion had been saved up for years – as perhaps it had been. Following an episode of clattering pops and emphasized ruffs from Ali, the spotlight shifts back to Gayle who responds with screeching, squealing sopranino-pitched cries.

All and all however, the CD’s defining track is “Part D” which packs nearly every permutation of reed-bass-drums interface that can be imagined into slightly-less-than-28 minutes. Following the drummer’s quasi-parade-ground intro and Parker’s stolid walking Gayle’s exposition includes hocketing pauses, emphasized note clusters and repeated snorts. Lab scientist-like, he seems to be evaluating every centimetre of his instrument and testing every sound that can be forced from it. At the same time he moves from cerebral to pure expressiveness, exposing lengthy passages in altissimo as well as paint-varnish-stripping-styled keening.

Beside him Parker also works up from spiccato sweeps to double and triple stops, finding original spots below the tuning pegs or beneath the bridge to emphasize as he plays. Initially Ali sticks to blunt stroke and paradiddles. Multiplying his strokes so they become more complex however, he eventually creates a drum solo that is both a confirmation of the tune and a connection to the others’ popping runs.

Eventually Gayle reaches a crescendo of otherworldly glossolalia, replicating in curt passages a bugle cry, an infant’s wail and a wounded animal’s bay. Answering himself with low-pitched, vibrato notes, he doesn’t so much overblow, but stretch these splintered tones and wails to their maximum elasticity so that they are distended but never broken.

Despite turning to the smaller horn, and more than 15 years of existence, the saxophonist continues with this prescription on the two CDs of Live at Crescendo. On tracks such as “Hearts Joy”, his own composition and Parker’s “Eternal Voice”, polite musicians’ self-restraint and self-editing never enter into his solo construction.

On the later tune, Gayle begins his solo at the uppermost pitch at which the bassist has just concluded a bowed solo of swelling pulsations, and then the saxophonist moves the resulting notes higher into the stratosphere. Growling and vibrating, with spittle-encrusted split tones and skeletal abstractions, he toys with the lines, pitches and tessitura ‘way past the expected time period until it appears as if he can go no further. Then miraculously he downshifts to a warmer tone and begins playing in tandem with Parker.

On “Hearts Joy” committed to an altissimo output, Gayle begins piling notes upon notes, timbres upon timbres and runs upon runs. Operating agitato and staccato, the reed exposition is carved up into shorter and more fortissimo shards, climbing ever higher in pitch and becoming more dissonant. Avoiding solipsism, despite an inner-directed sound blurring, the jagged double-tonguing and grating guttural intonation eventually rights itself into complementary split-tones and ghosts notes as the tune decelerates with Ali’s cross-pulsed, restrained cymbal and wood-block thwacks and Parker’s measured slap coloring.

At points Gayle verbally exhorts the others. But, another change from the past, these asides are garbled enough so that you can’t hear whether they’re musical or ecclesiastical. Additionally, over the course of 11 tracks – the shortest of which clocks in at slight less than 6½ minutes – the three continue to prove that time hasn’t diminished their skills or original thought processes. Trane-like with wiggling split tones and cries, at one point, there’s a section in Parker’s “Zero Blues” where Gayle’s solo construction is so down-home that it makes him a sonic ringer for R&B altoist Tab Smith. Parker negotiates thick chording to flying spicatto with equal ease – sometimes on the same tune, sometimes within seconds of one another. Likewise Ali belies his septuagenarian status by advancing the date’s rhythmic component not only with reverberating cymbals and thumping bass drums but with unique permutations of cross-bounding beats, echoing flams and rifle shot-like snare raps.

Accepting Free Jazz innovations means that despite the time line, the only choice between these two exceptional sessions is whether you want the end-product in single or double-pocket form.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Touchin’: 1. Part A 2. Part B 3. Part C 4. Part D 5. Part E

Personnel: Touchin’: Charles Gayle (tenor saxophone); William Parker (bass) and

Rashied Ali (drums)

Track Listing: Live: Disc 1: 1. Introduction 2. Zero Blues 3. Hearts Joy 4. We Three 5. Different Stuff 6. Love One Another 7. Straight Ahead Steps Disc 2: 1. Peace Inside 2. Machu Picchu 3. Cry Nu 4. Eternal Voice 5. No Sorrow

Personnel: Live: Charles Gayle (alto saxophone); William Parker (bass) and Rashied Ali (drums)

August 15, 2008

Charles Gayle, William Parker & Rashied Ali

Touchin’ On Trane
Jazzwerkstatt JW024

By Any Means

Live at Crescendo

Ayler Records aylCD- 077/078

Almost 16 years to the day separate these two live sessions, yet not one member of this trio of veteran players appears to have lost his edge or gusto.

Dispelling once again the old shibboleth that jazz is a young man’s game, saxophonist Charles Gayle, 68, drummer Rashied Ali, 73, and bassist William Parker, 56, create enough fire and commitment – mixed with experience – on both sets to enliven any program of improvised music.

Perhaps it’s because none has ever given in to the blandishments of more commercial music, but continues to follow a self-defined path, no matter the consequences. Senior statesman Ali is still best-known for his 1960s collaborations with John Coltrane, but he has participated in a variety of exploratory sessions since then. A fearless proselytizer and organizer for Free Jazz, Parker’s ensembles range from duos to big bands, yet he still finds time to help organize New York’s annual Vision Festival. Most mystifying of the three is Gayle, who seemed to suddenly materialize in New York in his forties, fully formed and ready to extend unadulterated Free Jazz into the 21st Century. Since then he has also revealed a quirky piano style. However – and this appears to be the trio’s only concession to advancing years – his characteristic screaming timbres are now the product of the alto saxophone’s upper reaches, rather than that of the tenor saxophone he formerly favoured

Recorded in Berlin in 1991, Touchin’ On Trane is the touchstone for this trio: an announcement of how well the hitherto unconnected three improvised together. Parker rhythmically walks through most of the five tunes; Ali’s strategy is low-key, encompassing vibrating rim shots, hi-hat slashing and press rolls, while Gayle’s trills, squeaks and reed bites extend Sonny Rollins’ work of the mid-1960s – rather then that of Trane. Listening to this CD in retrospect however, reveals just how much “in the tradition” the three were – and are – despite the neo-con mainstream rhetoric that was its nosiest at that time.

Parker’s sul ponticello sweeps mixed with slaps push Gayle to an even higher plane on “Part C” as the saxophonist’s whinnying and double-tonguing escalates from gritty growls to ejaculating juicy, splayed split tones – as if the suddenly released emotion had been saved up for years – as perhaps it had been. Following an episode of clattering pops and emphasized ruffs from Ali, the spotlight shifts back to Gayle who responds with screeching, squealing sopranino-pitched cries.

All and all however, the CD’s defining track is “Part D” which packs nearly every permutation of reed-bass-drums interface that can be imagined into slightly-less-than-28 minutes. Following the drummer’s quasi-parade-ground intro and Parker’s stolid walking Gayle’s exposition includes hocketing pauses, emphasized note clusters and repeated snorts. Lab scientist-like, he seems to be evaluating every centimetre of his instrument and testing every sound that can be forced from it. At the same time he moves from cerebral to pure expressiveness, exposing lengthy passages in altissimo as well as paint-varnish-stripping-styled keening.

Beside him Parker also works up from spiccato sweeps to double and triple stops, finding original spots below the tuning pegs or beneath the bridge to emphasize as he plays. Initially Ali sticks to blunt stroke and paradiddles. Multiplying his strokes so they become more complex however, he eventually creates a drum solo that is both a confirmation of the tune and a connection to the others’ popping runs.

Eventually Gayle reaches a crescendo of otherworldly glossolalia, replicating in curt passages a bugle cry, an infant’s wail and a wounded animal’s bay. Answering himself with low-pitched, vibrato notes, he doesn’t so much overblow, but stretch these splintered tones and wails to their maximum elasticity so that they are distended but never broken.

Despite turning to the smaller horn, and more than 15 years of existence, the saxophonist continues with this prescription on the two CDs of Live at Crescendo. On tracks such as “Hearts Joy”, his own composition and Parker’s “Eternal Voice”, polite musicians’ self-restraint and self-editing never enter into his solo construction.

On the later tune, Gayle begins his solo at the uppermost pitch at which the bassist has just concluded a bowed solo of swelling pulsations, and then the saxophonist moves the resulting notes higher into the stratosphere. Growling and vibrating, with spittle-encrusted split tones and skeletal abstractions, he toys with the lines, pitches and tessitura ‘way past the expected time period until it appears as if he can go no further. Then miraculously he downshifts to a warmer tone and begins playing in tandem with Parker.

On “Hearts Joy” committed to an altissimo output, Gayle begins piling notes upon notes, timbres upon timbres and runs upon runs. Operating agitato and staccato, the reed exposition is carved up into shorter and more fortissimo shards, climbing ever higher in pitch and becoming more dissonant. Avoiding solipsism, despite an inner-directed sound blurring, the jagged double-tonguing and grating guttural intonation eventually rights itself into complementary split-tones and ghosts notes as the tune decelerates with Ali’s cross-pulsed, restrained cymbal and wood-block thwacks and Parker’s measured slap coloring.

At points Gayle verbally exhorts the others. But, another change from the past, these asides are garbled enough so that you can’t hear whether they’re musical or ecclesiastical. Additionally, over the course of 11 tracks – the shortest of which clocks in at slight less than 6½ minutes – the three continue to prove that time hasn’t diminished their skills or original thought processes. Trane-like with wiggling split tones and cries, at one point, there’s a section in Parker’s “Zero Blues” where Gayle’s solo construction is so down-home that it makes him a sonic ringer for R&B altoist Tab Smith. Parker negotiates thick chording to flying spicatto with equal ease – sometimes on the same tune, sometimes within seconds of one another. Likewise Ali belies his septuagenarian status by advancing the date’s rhythmic component not only with reverberating cymbals and thumping bass drums but with unique permutations of cross-bounding beats, echoing flams and rifle shot-like snare raps.

Accepting Free Jazz innovations means that despite the time line, the only choice between these two exceptional sessions is whether you want the end-product in single or double-pocket form.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Touchin’: 1. Part A 2. Part B 3. Part C 4. Part D 5. Part E

Personnel: Touchin’: Charles Gayle (tenor saxophone); William Parker (bass) and

Rashied Ali (drums)

Track Listing: Live: Disc 1: 1. Introduction 2. Zero Blues 3. Hearts Joy 4. We Three 5. Different Stuff 6. Love One Another 7. Straight Ahead Steps Disc 2: 1. Peace Inside 2. Machu Picchu 3. Cry Nu 4. Eternal Voice 5. No Sorrow

Personnel: Live: Charles Gayle (alto saxophone); William Parker (bass) and Rashied Ali (drums)

August 15, 2008

William Parker Double Quartet

Alphaville Suite
Rogue Art: ROG 0010

William Parker/ Raining On The Moon

Corn Meal Dance

AUM Fidelity AUM043

William Parker

The Inside Songs of Curtis Mayfield – Live in Rome

Rai Trade RTPJ 0011

Concerned with different varieties of the Black vernacular experience, each of these fine CDs by bassist William Parker is impressive on its own. More profoundly each illustrates in a different way that the musical divisions among jazz, R&B, improvised music and soul are, in many cases, merely arbitrary.

Encompassing themes that are respectively populist (The Inside Songs of Curtis Mayfield), particular (Alphaville Suite) and highly personal (Corn Meal Dance), the sessions are stimulated not only by the resourcefulness of Parker’s compositions and arrangements, but by emphatic contributions from other band members. Although the personnel vary from disc to disc, each group includes, besides Parker, drummer Hamid Drake, trumpeter Lewis Barnes, and most spectacularly, vocalist Leena Conquest.

A Dallas native who has also worked with jazz-funk vibesman Roy Ayers and neo-bop pianist Mulgrew Miller, Conquest’s impressive vocal range, elevated diction and theatrical presentation pushes the performances on each of her appearance with the combo(s) another notch higher. No strident scat singer or flighty diva, she’s heir both to the clearly enunciated soul tradition of Dinah Washington and Aretha Franklin and to the socio-political undertakings of Abby Lincoln and Jeanne Lee.

That’s one inadvertent disappointment on Alphaville, since as “special guest” Conquest sings only on two short tracks. On the other hand the instrumental work is Parker’s most precise, since his compositions and arrangements salute the themes and influence of Alphaville, French director Jean-Luc Godard’s 1965 film classic. To amplify his compositional palate for the CD, Parker’s core trio is joined by his usual reed partner, alto saxophonist Rob Brown, plus a post-modern version of a string quartet: Mazz Swift on violin, Jessica Pavone on viola and cellists Julia Kent and Shiau-Shu Yu.

Rather than being used for conventional sweetening, the string performances are instead most often angular, spiccato and staccato, adding discordant arpeggios and shredded pulsations which at separate times cleave to Parker’s strummed centre tones or Brown’s skittering vibrato.

Although the CD is an exceptional showcase for the alto man’s tart, neo-bop tongue fluttering, it doesn’t mean that he’s the only soloist who excels here. Drake’s bass drum breaks and shadowed paradiddles add percussive heft to the 10 tracks. Meanwhile, to pick another highlight, Barnes’ trumpet flourishes and muted runs are involved in a contrapuntal duet with the thumping bass line on “Alpha 60”. Another theme is elaborated by Barnes’ darting, swift half-valve brass effects as well as Drake’s single cymbal reverberations, succeeded by sul ponticello circular bowing from the five strings. Its summation involves Barnes’ bugling tempo changes, bent notes and an extended mouthpiece tongue kiss.

With its loping Crime Jazz-like theme filled with sharp arco patterning and splintered tension-release “Doctor Badguy” is one of the two most programmatic tracks here; the other, “Interrogation”, depends on the aural images crated by descending double-pumping massed strings. Still, “Civilizations of the Light”, which was in Duke Ellington-fashion put together in the studio on the day of recording, proves that thematic fidelity doesn’t fully supersede improvisational smarts.

Composed with an almost Latinesque cast the tune has violinist Swift’s fierce, discursive solo introduce contrapuntal shrieks from other strings followed by their tremolo, squeezed triplets and Brown’s spilling arpeggios. Parker’s obbligato whorls finally order the extensions into a connective line. Andante, the contrapuntal horn and string patterns are constricted in the finale courtesy of a walking bass line and Drake’s rim shots.

The string section had been left at home three years previously when Parker and company played a jazz festival in Rome. In their place – and to provide more rhythmic impetus to this salute to Chicago Soul songwriter Curtis Mayfield (1942-1999) – is Daryl Foster on soprano and tenor saxophones, Sabir Mateen on tenor and alto saxophones and pianist Dave Burrell, plus Barnes, Parker and Conquest. In glorious voice, Conquest personifies the Mayfield’s material which encompasses his period with the Impressions (“People Get Ready”) as well as tunes from his influential Superfly soundtrack (“Freddie’s Dead”).

Adding to the purported street cred of the performance is the voice and poetry of professional Black firebrand Amiri Baraka. Although his sardonic, Afro-nationalism adds a few wryly poetic quips to the encore of “Freddie’s Dead” – he even gets off a line about Italy’s ex-right-wing premier Silvio Berlusconi – too often his nattering and mumbling interferes with Conquest’s soaring vocalizing.

Overall a rollicking affair, Parker’s chunky bass lines bring to mind Motown’s 1960s low-string vamp master James Jamerson, the riffing horn section channels 1960s Stax-Volt, while Drake’s stout backbeat could have gotten him R&B studio gigs during Mayfield’s Windy City heyday. Burrell, who has always been comfortable with piano history, adds pre-modern and conscious primitvist inflections to his two-handed accompaniment. Most spectacularly, on “Think” he pulls off the feat of creating a solo that’s simultaneously half-gospel and half-rococo.

However this is also the tune where Foster’s lightweight soprano sax obbligato appears to be paying homage to Grover Washington rather than more substantial players, while Baraka’s shouts and growls are merely annoying. Only Conquest’s verbal tonality and Mateen’s larger horn snorts keep things on an even keel.

Centrepiece of the performance is an almost 21-minute version of Mayfield’s “We Are The People Who Are Darker Than Blue”, with full-bore shuffle rhythm from Drake and undercurrent of riffing horns. Maintaining her bel canto take on the lyrics and backed by Burrell’s gospelish chording and low-frequency coloration, Conquest’s melodious inhabiting of the lyrics provides a profound foundation for Baraka’s heavily rhythmic Afro-American chanting. Later she reveals a hitherto unexposed talent, using scatting glossolalia to blend with Mateen’s altissimo squeaks and slides, while the pianist’s comping accelerates to house-party-style riffs.

A pianist of a far different background joins Parker and company on Corn Meal Dance, which is the newest and perhaps most fully realized CD here. Eri Yamamoto usually plays in more mainstream, piano-trio settings, including on an earlier disc with Parker. Here though, her references are high-frequency near-honky-tonk cadences, which are appropriate for this slice of the modern Black experience reflected not only in the bassist’s compositions, but his gnarly, poetic lyrics as well,

Luckily Conquest is on hand again for verbal interpretation, along with Drake, Barnes and Brown providing the musical ballast. Parker’s imagery appears to equally reflect agit-prop, Black folk tales, the stridency of 1970s’ Gil Scott-Heron and Bob Dylan’s 1960s surrealistic song-poetry. When provided with the proper setting, notable performances result.

“Gilmore’s Hat”, for instance, a light-hearted salute to John Gilmore, the late Sun Ra tenor saxophonist, is a stop-time hand-clapper with snappy words personalized by Conquest, and the music illuminated by Brown’s choked slithery reed lines, wah-wah expansions from Barnes and backbeat rolls from Drake. It concludes with perfectly pitched scatting from the vocalist. On the other hand, proper gravitas is reflected in Conquest’s interpretation of “Tutsi Orphans”, as the band’s vamps underlies this tragic tale of inter-tribal genocide, echoing similar situations in many other Africa countries.

Even better are the overtly political Soledad” and “Land Song”, which unlike Baraka’s limp attempts at relevancy on the Italian disc, manage to score points while remaining sonically first-rate. The latter tune is built up from unison horn lines and metronomic piano key battering, and has lyrics which cleverly mix contemporary asides with references to traditional post-Reconstruction inequalities. Featuring bull fiddle rumbles and drum rolls, it’s also a solo high point on the session for Brown who illustrates the theme with crying, evocative tones.

Mixing a blues progression and progressive lyrics in the mold of Max Roach’s and Charles Mingus’ 1960s militancy, “Soledad” gains its unmistakable power from the sincerity in Conquest’s voice, which in turn humanizes Parker’s lyrics no matter how far-fetched or obscurely poetic. Barnes’ high-pitched obbligatos provide perfect counterpoint to the singer’s warbling, yodeling and soulful groans.

Each of these outstanding discs provides an opportunity to sample the work of two artists – Parker and Conquest – in full maturity. All are worthy of your time.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Inside: 1. The Makings Of You 2. People Get Ready 3. Inside Song #1 4. We Are The People Who Are Darker Than Blue 5. Spoken Introduction 6. Think 7. Freddie’s Dead

Personnel: Inside: Lewis Barnes (trumpet); Daryl Foster (soprano and tenor saxophones); Sabir Mateen (tenor and alto saxophones); Dave Burrell (piano); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums); Leena Conquest (voice) and Amiri Baraka (voice and poetry)

Track Listing: Alphaville: 1. Alphaville Main Theme 2. Journey to the End of the Night 4. Natasha’s Theme I 5. Interrogation 6. Alpha 60 7. Oceanville Evening 8. Civilization of Light 9. Outlands 10. Natasha’s Theme II

Personnel: Alphaville: Lewis Barnes (trumpet); Rob Brown (alto saxophone); Mazz Swift (violin); Jessica Pavone (viola); Julia Kent and Shiau-Shu Yu (cellos); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) and Leena Conquest (voice)

Track Listing: Corn: 1. Doctor Yesterday 2. Tutsi Orphans 3. Poem for June Jordan 4. Soledad 5. Corn Meal Dance 6. Land Song 7. Prayer 8. Old Tears 9. Gilmore’s Hat

Personnel: Corn: Lewis Barnes (trumpet); Rob Brown (alto saxophone); Eri Yamamoto (piano); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) and Leena Conquest (voice)

March 28, 2008

William Parker

The Inside Songs of Curtis Mayfield – Live in Rome
Rai Trade RTPJ 0011

William Parker/ Raining On The Moon

Corn Meal Dance

AUM Fidelity AUM043

William Parker Double Quartet

Alphaville Suite

Rogue Art: ROG 0010

Concerned with different varieties of the Black vernacular experience, each of these fine CDs by bassist William Parker is impressive on its own. More profoundly each illustrates in a different way that the musical divisions among jazz, R&B, improvised music and soul are, in many cases, merely arbitrary.

Encompassing themes that are respectively populist (The Inside Songs of Curtis Mayfield), particular (Alphaville Suite) and highly personal (Corn Meal Dance), the sessions are stimulated not only by the resourcefulness of Parker’s compositions and arrangements, but by emphatic contributions from other band members. Although the personnel vary from disc to disc, each group includes, besides Parker, drummer Hamid Drake, trumpeter Lewis Barnes, and most spectacularly, vocalist Leena Conquest.

A Dallas native who has also worked with jazz-funk vibesman Roy Ayers and neo-bop pianist Mulgrew Miller, Conquest’s impressive vocal range, elevated diction and theatrical presentation pushes the performances on each of her appearance with the combo(s) another notch higher. No strident scat singer or flighty diva, she’s heir both to the clearly enunciated soul tradition of Dinah Washington and Aretha Franklin and to the socio-political undertakings of Abby Lincoln and Jeanne Lee.

That’s one inadvertent disappointment on Alphaville, since as “special guest” Conquest sings only on two short tracks. On the other hand the instrumental work is Parker’s most precise, since his compositions and arrangements salute the themes and influence of Alphaville, French director Jean-Luc Godard’s 1965 film classic. To amplify his compositional palate for the CD, Parker’s core trio is joined by his usual reed partner, alto saxophonist Rob Brown, plus a post-modern version of a string quartet: Mazz Swift on violin, Jessica Pavone on viola and cellists Julia Kent and Shiau-Shu Yu.

Rather than being used for conventional sweetening, the string performances are instead most often angular, spiccato and staccato, adding discordant arpeggios and shredded pulsations which at separate times cleave to Parker’s strummed centre tones or Brown’s skittering vibrato.

Although the CD is an exceptional showcase for the alto man’s tart, neo-bop tongue fluttering, it doesn’t mean that he’s the only soloist who excels here. Drake’s bass drum breaks and shadowed paradiddles add percussive heft to the 10 tracks. Meanwhile, to pick another highlight, Barnes’ trumpet flourishes and muted runs are involved in a contrapuntal duet with the thumping bass line on “Alpha 60”. Another theme is elaborated by Barnes’ darting, swift half-valve brass effects as well as Drake’s single cymbal reverberations, succeeded by sul ponticello circular bowing from the five strings. Its summation involves Barnes’ bugling tempo changes, bent notes and an extended mouthpiece tongue kiss.

With its loping Crime Jazz-like theme filled with sharp arco patterning and splintered tension-release “Doctor Badguy” is one of the two most programmatic tracks here; the other, “Interrogation”, depends on the aural images crated by descending double-pumping massed strings. Still, “Civilizations of the Light”, which was in Duke Ellington-fashion put together in the studio on the day of recording, proves that thematic fidelity doesn’t fully supersede improvisational smarts.

Composed with an almost Latinesque cast the tune has violinist Swift’s fierce, discursive solo introduce contrapuntal shrieks from other strings followed by their tremolo, squeezed triplets and Brown’s spilling arpeggios. Parker’s obbligato whorls finally order the extensions into a connective line. Andante, the contrapuntal horn and string patterns are constricted in the finale courtesy of a walking bass line and Drake’s rim shots.

The string section had been left at home three years previously when Parker and company played a jazz festival in Rome. In their place – and to provide more rhythmic impetus to this salute to Chicago Soul songwriter Curtis Mayfield (1942-1999) – is Daryl Foster on soprano and tenor saxophones, Sabir Mateen on tenor and alto saxophones and pianist Dave Burrell, plus Barnes, Parker and Conquest. In glorious voice, Conquest personifies the Mayfield’s material which encompasses his period with the Impressions (“People Get Ready”) as well as tunes from his influential Superfly soundtrack (“Freddie’s Dead”).

Adding to the purported street cred of the performance is the voice and poetry of professional Black firebrand Amiri Baraka. Although his sardonic, Afro-nationalism adds a few wryly poetic quips to the encore of “Freddie’s Dead” – he even gets off a line about Italy’s ex-right-wing premier Silvio Berlusconi – too often his nattering and mumbling interferes with Conquest’s soaring vocalizing.

Overall a rollicking affair, Parker’s chunky bass lines bring to mind Motown’s 1960s low-string vamp master James Jamerson, the riffing horn section channels 1960s Stax-Volt, while Drake’s stout backbeat could have gotten him R&B studio gigs during Mayfield’s Windy City heyday. Burrell, who has always been comfortable with piano history, adds pre-modern and conscious primitvist inflections to his two-handed accompaniment. Most spectacularly, on “Think” he pulls off the feat of creating a solo that’s simultaneously half-gospel and half-rococo.

However this is also the tune where Foster’s lightweight soprano sax obbligato appears to be paying homage to Grover Washington rather than more substantial players, while Baraka’s shouts and growls are merely annoying. Only Conquest’s verbal tonality and Mateen’s larger horn snorts keep things on an even keel.

Centrepiece of the performance is an almost 21-minute version of Mayfield’s “We Are The People Who Are Darker Than Blue”, with full-bore shuffle rhythm from Drake and undercurrent of riffing horns. Maintaining her bel canto take on the lyrics and backed by Burrell’s gospelish chording and low-frequency coloration, Conquest’s melodious inhabiting of the lyrics provides a profound foundation for Baraka’s heavily rhythmic Afro-American chanting. Later she reveals a hitherto unexposed talent, using scatting glossolalia to blend with Mateen’s altissimo squeaks and slides, while the pianist’s comping accelerates to house-party-style riffs.

A pianist of a far different background joins Parker and company on Corn Meal Dance, which is the newest and perhaps most fully realized CD here. Eri Yamamoto usually plays in more mainstream, piano-trio settings, including on an earlier disc with Parker. Here though, her references are high-frequency near-honky-tonk cadences, which are appropriate for this slice of the modern Black experience reflected not only in the bassist’s compositions, but his gnarly, poetic lyrics as well,

Luckily Conquest is on hand again for verbal interpretation, along with Drake, Barnes and Brown providing the musical ballast. Parker’s imagery appears to equally reflect agit-prop, Black folk tales, the stridency of 1970s’ Gil Scott-Heron and Bob Dylan’s 1960s surrealistic song-poetry. When provided with the proper setting, notable performances result.

“Gilmore’s Hat”, for instance, a light-hearted salute to John Gilmore, the late Sun Ra tenor saxophonist, is a stop-time hand-clapper with snappy words personalized by Conquest, and the music illuminated by Brown’s choked slithery reed lines, wah-wah expansions from Barnes and backbeat rolls from Drake. It concludes with perfectly pitched scatting from the vocalist. On the other hand, proper gravitas is reflected in Conquest’s interpretation of “Tutsi Orphans”, as the band’s vamps underlies this tragic tale of inter-tribal genocide, echoing similar situations in many other Africa countries.

Even better are the overtly political Soledad” and “Land Song”, which unlike Baraka’s limp attempts at relevancy on the Italian disc, manage to score points while remaining sonically first-rate. The latter tune is built up from unison horn lines and metronomic piano key battering, and has lyrics which cleverly mix contemporary asides with references to traditional post-Reconstruction inequalities. Featuring bull fiddle rumbles and drum rolls, it’s also a solo high point on the session for Brown who illustrates the theme with crying, evocative tones.

Mixing a blues progression and progressive lyrics in the mold of Max Roach’s and Charles Mingus’ 1960s militancy, “Soledad” gains its unmistakable power from the sincerity in Conquest’s voice, which in turn humanizes Parker’s lyrics no matter how far-fetched or obscurely poetic. Barnes’ high-pitched obbligatos provide perfect counterpoint to the singer’s warbling, yodeling and soulful groans.

Each of these outstanding discs provides an opportunity to sample the work of two artists – Parker and Conquest – in full maturity. All are worthy of your time.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Inside: 1. The Makings Of You 2. People Get Ready 3. Inside Song #1 4. We Are The People Who Are Darker Than Blue 5. Spoken Introduction 6. Think 7. Freddie’s Dead

Personnel: Inside: Lewis Barnes (trumpet); Daryl Foster (soprano and tenor saxophones); Sabir Mateen (tenor and alto saxophones); Dave Burrell (piano); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums); Leena Conquest (voice) and Amiri Baraka (voice and poetry)

Track Listing: Alphaville: 1. Alphaville Main Theme 2. Journey to the End of the Night 4. Natasha’s Theme I 5. Interrogation 6. Alpha 60 7. Oceanville Evening 8. Civilization of Light 9. Outlands 10. Natasha’s Theme II

Personnel: Alphaville: Lewis Barnes (trumpet); Rob Brown (alto saxophone); Mazz Swift (violin); Jessica Pavone (viola); Julia Kent and Shiau-Shu Yu (cellos); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) and Leena Conquest (voice)

Track Listing: Corn: 1. Doctor Yesterday 2. Tutsi Orphans 3. Poem for June Jordan 4. Soledad 5. Corn Meal Dance 6. Land Song 7. Prayer 8. Old Tears 9. Gilmore’s Hat

Personnel: Corn: Lewis Barnes (trumpet); Rob Brown (alto saxophone); Eri Yamamoto (piano); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) and Leena Conquest (voice)

March 28, 2008

William Parker/Raining On The Moon

Corn Meal Dance
AUM Fidelity AUM043

William Parker Double Quartet

Alphaville Suite

Rogue Art: ROG 0010

William Parker

The Inside Songs of Curtis Mayfield – Live in Rome

Rai Trade RTPJ 0011

Concerned with different varieties of the Black vernacular experience, each of these fine CDs by bassist William Parker is impressive on its own. More profoundly each illustrates in a different way that the musical divisions among jazz, R&B, improvised music and soul are, in many cases, merely arbitrary.

Encompassing themes that are respectively populist (The Inside Songs of Curtis Mayfield), particular (Alphaville Suite) and highly personal (Corn Meal Dance), the sessions are stimulated not only by the resourcefulness of Parker’s compositions and arrangements, but by emphatic contributions from other band members. Although the personnel vary from disc to disc, each group includes, besides Parker, drummer Hamid Drake, trumpeter Lewis Barnes, and most spectacularly, vocalist Leena Conquest.

A Dallas native who has also worked with jazz-funk vibesman Roy Ayers and neo-bop pianist Mulgrew Miller, Conquest’s impressive vocal range, elevated diction and theatrical presentation pushes the performances on each of her appearance with the combo(s) another notch higher. No strident scat singer or flighty diva, she’s heir both to the clearly enunciated soul tradition of Dinah Washington and Aretha Franklin and to the socio-political undertakings of Abby Lincoln and Jeanne Lee.

That’s one inadvertent disappointment on Alphaville, since as “special guest” Conquest sings only on two short tracks. On the other hand the instrumental work is Parker’s most precise, since his compositions and arrangements salute the themes and influence of Alphaville, French director Jean-Luc Godard’s 1965 film classic. To amplify his compositional palate for the CD, Parker’s core trio is joined by his usual reed partner, alto saxophonist Rob Brown, plus a post-modern version of a string quartet: Mazz Swift on violin, Jessica Pavone on viola and cellists Julia Kent and Shiau-Shu Yu.

Rather than being used for conventional sweetening, the string performances are instead most often angular, spiccato and staccato, adding discordant arpeggios and shredded pulsations which at separate times cleave to Parker’s strummed centre tones or Brown’s skittering vibrato.

Although the CD is an exceptional showcase for the alto man’s tart, neo-bop tongue fluttering, it doesn’t mean that he’s the only soloist who excels here. Drake’s bass drum breaks and shadowed paradiddles add percussive heft to the 10 tracks. Meanwhile, to pick another highlight, Barnes’ trumpet flourishes and muted runs are involved in a contrapuntal duet with the thumping bass line on “Alpha 60”. Another theme is elaborated by Barnes’ darting, swift half-valve brass effects as well as Drake’s single cymbal reverberations, succeeded by sul ponticello circular bowing from the five strings. Its summation involves Barnes’ bugling tempo changes, bent notes and an extended mouthpiece tongue kiss.

With its loping Crime Jazz-like theme filled with sharp arco patterning and splintered tension-release “Doctor Badguy” is one of the two most programmatic tracks here; the other, “Interrogation”, depends on the aural images crated by descending double-pumping massed strings. Still, “Civilizations of the Light”, which was in Duke Ellington-fashion put together in the studio on the day of recording, proves that thematic fidelity doesn’t fully supersede improvisational smarts.

Composed with an almost Latinesque cast the tune has violinist Swift’s fierce, discursive solo introduce contrapuntal shrieks from other strings followed by their tremolo, squeezed triplets and Brown’s spilling arpeggios. Parker’s obbligato whorls finally order the extensions into a connective line. Andante, the contrapuntal horn and string patterns are constricted in the finale courtesy of a walking bass line and Drake’s rim shots.

The string section had been left at home three years previously when Parker and company played a jazz festival in Rome. In their place – and to provide more rhythmic impetus to this salute to Chicago Soul songwriter Curtis Mayfield (1942-1999) – is Daryl Foster on soprano and tenor saxophones, Sabir Mateen on tenor and alto saxophones and pianist Dave Burrell, plus Barnes, Parker and Conquest. In glorious voice, Conquest personifies the Mayfield’s material which encompasses his period with the Impressions (“People Get Ready”) as well as tunes from his influential Superfly soundtrack (“Freddie’s Dead”).

Adding to the purported street cred of the performance is the voice and poetry of professional Black firebrand Amiri Baraka. Although his sardonic, Afro-nationalism adds a few wryly poetic quips to the encore of “Freddie’s Dead” – he even gets off a line about Italy’s ex-right-wing premier Silvio Berlusconi – too often his nattering and mumbling interferes with Conquest’s soaring vocalizing.

Overall a rollicking affair, Parker’s chunky bass lines bring to mind Motown’s 1960s low-string vamp master James Jamerson, the riffing horn section channels 1960s Stax-Volt, while Drake’s stout backbeat could have gotten him R&B studio gigs during Mayfield’s Windy City heyday. Burrell, who has always been comfortable with piano history, adds pre-modern and conscious primitvist inflections to his two-handed accompaniment. Most spectacularly, on “Think” he pulls off the feat of creating a solo that’s simultaneously half-gospel and half-rococo.

However this is also the tune where Foster’s lightweight soprano sax obbligato appears to be paying homage to Grover Washington rather than more substantial players, while Baraka’s shouts and growls are merely annoying. Only Conquest’s verbal tonality and Mateen’s larger horn snorts keep things on an even keel.

Centrepiece of the performance is an almost 21-minute version of Mayfield’s “We Are The People Who Are Darker Than Blue”, with full-bore shuffle rhythm from Drake and undercurrent of riffing horns. Maintaining her bel canto take on the lyrics and backed by Burrell’s gospelish chording and low-frequency coloration, Conquest’s melodious inhabiting of the lyrics provides a profound foundation for Baraka’s heavily rhythmic Afro-American chanting. Later she reveals a hitherto unexposed talent, using scatting glossolalia to blend with Mateen’s altissimo squeaks and slides, while the pianist’s comping accelerates to house-party-style riffs.

A pianist of a far different background joins Parker and company on Corn Meal Dance, which is the newest and perhaps most fully realized CD here. Eri Yamamoto usually plays in more mainstream, piano-trio settings, including on an earlier disc with Parker. Here though, her references are high-frequency near-honky-tonk cadences, which are appropriate for this slice of the modern Black experience reflected not only in the bassist’s compositions, but his gnarly, poetic lyrics as well,

Luckily Conquest is on hand again for verbal interpretation, along with Drake, Barnes and Brown providing the musical ballast. Parker’s imagery appears to equally reflect agit-prop, Black folk tales, the stridency of 1970s’ Gil Scott-Heron and Bob Dylan’s 1960s surrealistic song-poetry. When provided with the proper setting, notable performances result.

“Gilmore’s Hat”, for instance, a light-hearted salute to John Gilmore, the late Sun Ra tenor saxophonist, is a stop-time hand-clapper with snappy words personalized by Conquest, and the music illuminated by Brown’s choked slithery reed lines, wah-wah expansions from Barnes and backbeat rolls from Drake. It concludes with perfectly pitched scatting from the vocalist. On the other hand, proper gravitas is reflected in Conquest’s interpretation of “Tutsi Orphans”, as the band’s vamps underlies this tragic tale of inter-tribal genocide, echoing similar situations in many other Africa countries.

Even better are the overtly political Soledad” and “Land Song”, which unlike Baraka’s limp attempts at relevancy on the Italian disc, manage to score points while remaining sonically first-rate. The latter tune is built up from unison horn lines and metronomic piano key battering, and has lyrics which cleverly mix contemporary asides with references to traditional post-Reconstruction inequalities. Featuring bull fiddle rumbles and drum rolls, it’s also a solo high point on the session for Brown who illustrates the theme with crying, evocative tones.

Mixing a blues progression and progressive lyrics in the mold of Max Roach’s and Charles Mingus’ 1960s militancy, “Soledad” gains its unmistakable power from the sincerity in Conquest’s voice, which in turn humanizes Parker’s lyrics no matter how far-fetched or obscurely poetic. Barnes’ high-pitched obbligatos provide perfect counterpoint to the singer’s warbling, yodeling and soulful groans.

Each of these outstanding discs provides an opportunity to sample the work of two artists – Parker and Conquest – in full maturity. All are worthy of your time.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Inside: 1. The Makings Of You 2. People Get Ready 3. Inside Song #1 4. We Are The People Who Are Darker Than Blue 5. Spoken Introduction 6. Think 7. Freddie’s Dead

Personnel: Inside: Lewis Barnes (trumpet); Daryl Foster (soprano and tenor saxophones); Sabir Mateen (tenor and alto saxophones); Dave Burrell (piano); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums); Leena Conquest (voice) and Amiri Baraka (voice and poetry)

Track Listing: Alphaville: 1. Alphaville Main Theme 2. Journey to the End of the Night 4. Natasha’s Theme I 5. Interrogation 6. Alpha 60 7. Oceanville Evening 8. Civilization of Light 9. Outlands 10. Natasha’s Theme II

Personnel: Alphaville: Lewis Barnes (trumpet); Rob Brown (alto saxophone); Mazz Swift (violin); Jessica Pavone (viola); Julia Kent and Shiau-Shu Yu (cellos); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) and Leena Conquest (voice)

Track Listing: Corn: 1. Doctor Yesterday 2. Tutsi Orphans 3. Poem for June Jordan 4. Soledad 5. Corn Meal Dance 6. Land Song 7. Prayer 8. Old Tears 9. Gilmore’s Hat

Personnel: Corn: Lewis Barnes (trumpet); Rob Brown (alto saxophone); Eri Yamamoto (piano); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) and Leena Conquest (voice)

March 28, 2008

Steve Swell’s Fire Into Music

Swimming in a Galaxy of Goodwill and Sorrow
Rogue Art ROG-0009

Showcasing four major players operating at the top of their game, this nearly 73- minute CD is a pulsating and passionate essay on top-flight composition and improvisation that stays fully in the present while subtly referencing the past. Most pieces feature expected call-and-response from the horns, and the heads are nearly always recapped.

With his ability to articulate J. J. Johnson-style runs as effortlessly as he finesses Classic Jazz inflected tremolo slurs, trombonist Steve Swell, who wrote two-thirds of the tracks, builds many of them on the contrapuntal contrast between his solid timbres and the astringent trills of veteran alto saxophonist Jemeel Moondoc. As their intertwined output explores the spectrum of extended techniques, the tunes’ fundamental rhythmic shape is maintained by bassist William Parker. With that function solidified, drummer Hamid Drake – who may, along with the bassist, be the most recorded advanced jazz player of this century – pops and ruffs his drums, whacks wood blocks and generally elasticizes the beat.

Although Parker offers a mournful arco intro to “For Arthur Williams”, in contrast his four-square, double-and-triple stopping provides the bottom on “For Grachan”, Swell’s swinging blues honoring older trombonist Grachan Moncur III. Each quartet member shines on the 17-minute title tune, which is initially squeezed back-and-forth by unaccompanied horns, then slinkily torqued with the entry of the rhythm section. Braying plunger trombone tones, nasal reed spits and bell-pealing propel the mid-range pitch variations that reflect the title.

-- Ken Waxman

-- For CODA Issue 336

December 4, 2007

William Parker

Long Hidden: The Olmec Series
AUM Fidelity AUM 036

As much World Music as Free Improv, Long Hidden features William Parker, Free Jazz’s most accomplished master bassist, exploring a couple of novel musical paths.

Besides four expected solo bass extravaganzas – three of which were recorded in the 1990s – there are also three, inter-related, but out-of-order tracks which showcase his skills on the specially-designed eight-string doson ngoni, or banjo-guitar. Plus there are three more songs when he takes his place as sideman with a merengue tipico music group.

Playing traditional and original tunes honoring the Olmec people of Central America, this band is a mixture of veterans and tyros. Besides Parker, who plays six-string Malian doson ngoni, the experienced musicians are alto and baritone saxophonist Dave Sewelson, of the Microscopic Septet and bassist Todd Nicholson, a frequent sideman with violinist Billy Bang. The others – all less than 23 years old – are

Isaiah Parker on alto saxophone, Luis Ramirez on accordion, Omar Payano on conga, güiro and vocal plus Gabriel Nunez on timbale and bongos.

Remarkably the currents from the three subsets appear to mesh.

As might be termed pro forma at this juncture, the solo bass excursions are appropriately breathtaking. Especially on “Compassion Seize Bed-Stuy”, recorded in Berkeley, Calif. In 1997 and “In Case of Accident”, which dates back to Montreal in 1993, the bassist alternates sawing arco lines with gentling pizzicato overtones. On the later, the sul ponticello thrusts eventually trigger reverberating waterfalls of notes that splatter faster and faster. Featuring col legno interface, high-pitched plucks, sul tasto shuffle bowing and narrow string pinches beneath the bridge, the impression is of more than one bass playing at a time.

“Compassion Seize Bed-Stuy”, on the other hand, extend Parker’s mournful pitches into tremolo multiphonics, put into bolder relief with the addition of pressure from what seems to be not one, but two additional bows. Midway it appears as if Parker is duetting with himself, passing tones back and forth, stroking and strumming.

Instructively, like his frequent associate multi-instrumentalist Cooper-Moore, Parker uses the timbres of the specially constructed 8-string Malian doson ngoni to get closer to American roots music. The passing tones ratcheted on “Long Hidden Part One” could come from a couple of geezers sitting on their rural porch at nightfall and serenading the lonesome mountains with six-string guitar and four-string banjo clanking and chromatic plucks.

Most distinctive are the four sextet pieces, which once they gain a head of steam move pass the rhythmic background textures to full group situations. Sewelson’s versatility stands out here, since he’s able to squeak an abstract saxophone solo on top of the tipico rhythm produced by scratching the gourd and pummeling the accordion bellows without making the result seems any less than organic.

Putting aside call-and-response vocals, ground bass reverberation and contrapuntal reed lines, the definitive group statement comes on “Pok-a-Tok”, a fanciful name for a piece of musical anthropology. Linking the indigenous American people, with African ancestors and jazzers like Thelonious Monk, Parker propels musical intellect along with emotion. More than jollity is expressed through the cross-fed beats from junkeroo percussion, scraping guiro and skittering accordion bellows. Although the infectious beat sometimes suggest an old-time field recording, the ghostly accordion line and dance-step-like funk horns vamps extend into different directions before reaching the same end.

Although some may prefer Parker’s cerebral large band orchestrations or intense small-group interface, Long Hidden exposes another facet of his talent.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. There is a Balm in Gilead 2. Long Hidden Part Two* 3. Codex# 4. El Puente Seco# 5. Long Hidden Part Three* 6. Cathedral of Light 7. Compassion Seize Bed-Stuy 8. Pok-a-Tok# 9. Esprito#+ 10. Long Hidden Part One* 11. In Case of Accident

Personnel: William Parker (bass, 8-string doson ngoni*) or the Olmec Group# featuring Isaiah Parker (alto saxophone); Dave Sewelson (alto and baritone saxophones); Luis Ramirez (accordion); Todd Nicholson (bass); William Parker (percussion and 6-string doson ngoni); Omar Payano (conga, güiro and vocal+); Gabriel Nunez (timbale and bongos)

November 27, 2006

Kidd Jordan/Hamid Drake/William Parker

Palm of Soul
AUM Fidelity AUM038

Temporarily and involuntarily away from his home in the Big Easy due to Hurricane Katrina, tenor saxophonist Kidd Jordan’s playing is more meditative than usual – although just as inspired – on this exceptional trio CD

Partnered by improv’s busiest rhythm section – New York bassist William Parker and Chicago percussionist Hamid Drake – Jordan, who for many years has not only been New Orleans’ most accomplished Free improviser, but often it’s only one, bring a lifetime of studied iconoclasm to the seven compositions here. Cerebral as well as fiery, he knows how to adjust his solid mid-register glottal punctuation and reverberated split tones for maximum impact. Always straightforward – although not straightahead – his improvising includes dirge-like atonal contrafacts of Crescent City classics like “Lonely Avenue” and “The Saints”.

With Parker vibrating gongs and bowls and Drake manipulating frame drum and tabla, Palm of Soul takes on World Music implications. Yet Jordan’s emotional force is such that he subordinates these elements to the honks and slurs that issue from his horn, just as pop and R&B inferences have been individualized during his 50 years as a performer and teacher.

Ignore the comic title, for “Last of the Chicken Wings” most clearly illuminates his reed characteristics. With the others accompanying him percussively, the entire middle section is taken up by the saxophonist using irregular and intense vibrato to experiment with endless possibilities and permutations of the reed line, finally completing the piece with the perfect tongue flourish.

-- Ken Waxman

CODA Issue 329

October 16, 2006

Joëlle Léandre

At The Le Mans Jazz Festival
Leo CD LR 458/459

Versatile French bassist Joëlle Léandre can always be counted upon to be dependable in her contributions to any improvisation as well as flexible in her choice of musical partners.

Starting in the early 1980s, she has performed in Europe, Asia and North America, with improv masters, innovative Free players from different cultures and younger musicians who need more exposure. Recorded during one five-day period, this two-CD set showcases her playing in five different contexts with new and old collaborators and with predictably impressive results.

Interestingly enough, both duets here are with Americans – New York bassist William Parker and Bay area violinist India Cooke, both of whom she has recorded with in the past. Cooke who has played with originals like trombonist George Lewis and Sun Ra brings a certain willowy lyricism to her meeting. Warm, and broad, her fiddle strokes are expansive; she often constructs mini-themes while Léandre provides the technical ballast. Elsewhere, thick double stopping on the Frenchwoman’s part causes Cooke to pick away chromatically or squeeze out spiccato arco lines.

Often working in double counterpoint, the Parker meeting on the other hand, rebounds from technical to folkloric displays and back again. At points mutual multiphonics intersect polyrhythmically, and then split, with one bassist opting for shrill string glissandi and the other for basso, shuffle-bowed vibrations. Adding the instrumental sounds of a whistle to his string-stroking, Parker’s other improvisations move past Afro-American inferences so that the two together suggest the Pan-Asian textures of a pipa and a dizi.

Even more spectacular are the creation of two European aggregations constituted by players with whom Léandre works individually. The quartet completed by Italian trombonist Sebi Tramontana, Portuguese violinist Carlos Zingaro and German percussionist Paul Lovens is particularly noteworthy. Beyond Lovens’ unerring yet understated sense of time and Tramontana’s homage to early Jazz with gutbucket slurs, it’s Zingaro’s fiddling that defines the collaboration. More tremolo and definitely more formal than Cooke’s technique, his sweeping portamento, double-stopping and contrapuntal associations encourage the bassist to turn irregular string slaps into pedal- point ostinato. Coupled with Lovens’ pin-pointed cymbal maneuvers and intermittent drum patterns, this polyrhythmic interface ties the disparate parts into one pulsating, staccato affiliation.

Partnering another percussionist – Swiss Mark Nauseef who also plays electronics – and German trumpeter Markus Stockhausen, Léandre responds in a contradictory manner. Although both men have connections to contemporary so-called serious music – as does Léandre – her rubber-band-like vibrations and widely space drones guide the others closer to improvisation. Especially problematic are Stockhausen’s weedy muted notes that seem to reflect Miles Davis’ lyricism without his fire.

To counter this shortcoming, the bassist bows warmly and harmonically underneath his elongated grace notes. Stretching out legato patterns that are echoed by the ping of Nauseef’s gongs and the steady clicking and tapping of his electronics, she gets the brassman to slur plunger tones. Genially mocking his legato output, she uses thick string pops plus contrapuntal double stops and vocalization to turn the group improvisation outward.

Vocalization also figures into the remaining match-up with Léandre performing as part of the long-running Les Diaboliques trio with Swiss pianist Irène Schweizer and Scottish vocalist Maggie Nicols. Unfortunately, this didn’t seem to be one of the band’s better nights. Although the bassist’s col legno squeaks and wood-rending strokes plus the pianist’s sliding glissandi and deliberately raggy syncopation maintain momentum, it’s the singer’s mumbles, lilts and shrills that command centre stage.

Moving between pseudo-Scottish speaking-in-tongues and lyric soprano warbling, Nicols ranges all over the tunes without ever settling into the sort profound onomatopoeia she sometimes spontaneously creates in full flight. Neither Schweitzer’s theatrical low-frequency runs or Léandre’s sul ponticello swells and accompanying vocalization keeps the singer focused and away from stream-of-consciousness, chicken-clucking dialogue in English, French and Gaelic.

Except for these two tracks – which are isolated at the beginning of disc one and do have the virtue of interesting work from the pianist and bassist – the rest of At The Le Mans Jazz Festival is unreservedly prime Léandre. Any of the other performances speak to her versatility, inventiveness and flexibility.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Disc 1: 1. Meeting One 2. Meeting Two 3.Meeting Three 4.Meeting Four 5. Meeting Five Disc 2: 1. Just Now One 2. Just Now Two 3. Just Now Three 4. Just Now Four 5. Just Now Five 6. Just Now Six 7. Just Now Seven 8. Just Now Eight 9. Just Now Nine

Personnel: Les Diaboliques: Irène Schweizer (piano); Joëlle Léandre (bass) and Maggie Nicols (voice) [disc 1, tracks 1, 2]; Joëlle Léandre (bass) and William Parker (bass and whistle) [disc 1 tracks 3-5] India Cooke (violin) and Joëlle Léandre (bass) [disc 2 tracks 1-3] Markus Stockhausen (trumpet); Joëlle Léandre (bass) and Mark Nauseef (percussion and electronics) [disc 2 tracks 4, 5] Sebi Tramontana (trombone); Carlos Zingaro (violin); Joëlle Léandre (bass) and Paul Lovens (drums and percussion) [disc 2 tracks 6-9]

September 13, 2006

William Parker in Buffalo

Cookie Gilchrist found in Buffalo multi-media display
for CODA

Mimes wearing grotesque papier mâché masks and body stockings lumbered and skittered across the polished floor, as dancers, with butterfly wings on their back twirled from one side of the vaulted-ceiling room to the other. On stage, in what was formerly a church sanctuary, a dreadlocked singer recited lyrics of hope and defiance, while around him more than two dozen instrumentalists produced cacophonous seesaw melodies.

That was in scene in Buffalo, N.Y. in mid-March, as Hallwalls Contemporary Arts Center hosted two, nearly sold-out evening performances of a multi-media presentation by New York bassist William Parker and his Buffalo Orchestra. In the planning stages for about two years, upstate New York’s bastion of non-mainstream art was finally able to invite Parker for a one-week residency culminating in the performance, following its move earlier this year to a new permanent home in a renovated former church in downtown Buffalo. Hallwalls’ staff was so energized by securing Parker participation, that the performances actually took place in advance of the facility’s first official show. Proper theatre lighting still has to be installed, and that part of the audience which didn’t crowd upstairs balconies, was seated on chairs borrowed from the nearby Buffalo Convention Center.

Arriving in Buffalo the weekend before, Parker selected his 33 performers from among local musicians, dancers and actors. Intensively rehearsed every evening preceding the show, Parker confirms that most of the music was notated. Although the players benefited from an improvisatory technique he calls “self-conduction”, there was little free-form soloing except in sections and near the very end. “You can’t improvise too much when you’re working with dancers”, he explains. “They can’t miss their cues.”

Consisting of 14 original compositions, the program, entitled “Looking for Cookie Gilchrist”, is named for the legendary place kicker who played for both the Buffalo Bills and the Toronto Argonauts in the 1960s. Although Gilchrist was known for his outspoken views on management’s exploitation of players, there seems to be little sociological subtext in the extravaganza. Instead, the focus seemed to be on a variant of World Music. Parker played tuba, ngoni, (traditional West African lute), and heraldic horn rather than bass, and Afro-Caribbean and South Asian percussion plus didjeridoo was used extensively along with standard brass, reeds, drum kits and strings.

The performers, lead by choreographer Patricia Nicholson, presented a series of tableaux encompassing the anthropomorphic and fantastic. During the course of the evening, some actors clutching faux branches impersonated trees, while another group wiggled in a dragon’s head dance. Other characters included a black-costumed skeleton, a backwards-crawling sea creature and a top-hat wearing vulture. Near the end of the evening, following a procession that involved performers brandishing foil-draped poles, a few of the band’s brass and reed players marched through the crowd Sun Ra Arkestra-style. Earlier, Nicholson encouraged audience members to gyrate along with the mugging performers to a pseudo-reggae tune played by the orchestra.

“Looking for Cookie Gilchrist”, is more a community happening than an authentic theatrical performance. In fact, the major instance of transcendence was only achieved at the finale when singer Preach Freedom vocalized Parker’s near-operatic “Prayer”, which its composer dedicated to trumpeter Rafe Malik who died of cancer earlier that week.

-- Ken Waxman

May 12, 2006

WILLIAM PARKER

Luc's Lantern
Thirsty Ear THI 57158.2

WILLIAM PARKER QUARTET
Sound Unity
Aum Fidelity Aum 034

Conventional and unconventional sounds reflecting the improvisational and compositional talents of New York bassist William Parker, both these CDs are noteworthy. What's most surprising though is that the unconventional one is LUC'S LANTERN. Known as one of the prime movers in New York's avant-garde scene, Parker is still able to create a session that could have been put out by such classic 1960s piano trios as Ahmad Jamal's, Bill Evans's or Oscar Peterson's. It's unconventional in its very conventionality.

More expected, but in truth conventional only if you're very familiar with Free Jazz, SOUND UNITY features the bassman's quartet working out on six exciting tracks recorded live in Montreal and Vancouver. Even though the compositions nod powerfully to Ornette Coleman's legendary 1960s' quartet, they, along with Coleman's work, are really modern mainstream, no matter what musical neo-cons tell you.

Ranging from slightly more than eight to more than 21 minutes, the selections are stylish and graceful. Taking the Coleman comparison a bit further, Parker's measured pacing allow him to assay Charlie Haden's role, while trumpeter Lewis Barnes and alto saxophonist Rob Brown - who both also play in the bassist's Little Huey orchestra - become an updated Don Cherry and a Coleman respectively. However Chicago-based Hamid Drake, who sometimes appears to work with half the improv bands on the planet, is the wild card in the bunch. Sure his drumming is sympathetic, but his power is such that comes across like a combination of Billy Higgins and Ed Blackwell, who split drum duties with Coleman.

Less famous than Drake, Michael Thompson who occupies the drum chair on LUC'S LANTERN holds his own when dealing with Parker's stentorian bass playing. That shouldn't be a surprise, since he's worked in combos with the likes of Parker associate, trumpeter Roy Campbell, and reedist Joe Giardullo. This CD's surprising component comes from pianist Eri Yamamoto, usually heard in certified mainstream settings. A native of Kyoto, Japan, Yamamoto has lived in New York City 1996, and on the faculty of The Mannes College of Music. Someone who has worked with other powerful bassists such as Ron McClure and Reggie Workman, her playing here encompasses the impressionism of Bill Evans and the swing and technique of a clutch of hard bop key thumpers.

In a way, this pianistic link to earlier time is quite appropriate to the CD, for some of the 10 Parker compositions honor fallen jazz heroes such as pianists Jaki Byard and Bud Powell, bassist Scotty Holt, and saxophonists Charles Tyler and Booker Ervin.

Not that there's any attempt to recreate anyone's style. As a matter of fact, Parker and Yamamoto throw a monkey wrench into hearing this as a tribute CD, most notably on "Bud in Alphaville". Not only are her hard octave downshifts and double timing key clips closer to Monk than Powell, but the title and accompanying poem reference director Jean Luc Goddard's film Alphaville. Goddard and Powell may have concurrently inhabited Paris, but there's no jazz music in his films.

There's plenty of jazz on this CD though. Often operating contrapuntally, Parker and Thompson could be a bop rhythm section - the bassist walking and the drummer playing a backbeat. But few boppers had the same command of woody spiccato runs that the bassist exhibits, plus the ability to ruffle and sluice patterns up and down his strings sul ponticello. Furthermore, in response to or accompanied by Parker's unvarying pulse and Yamamoto's metronomic note clusters, the drummer often easily lets loose with a post bop romp of dedicated rolls, flams and paradiddles with extra flashy hi hat accents.

Preeminently her own woman, Yamamoto has enough command of jazz's piano literature to streak from one series of near tributes to another - usually within the same piece. Tunes like "Song For Tyler" bring out Evans-like lush voicing and soft glissandi, although she explores the piano's upper quadrants with foreshortened note patterns as effectively as the New Thing saxophonist did with his horn. Meanwhile the title tune features pseudo Peterson-like runs and stabbing note cascades that migrate from Herbie Nichols'style. Channeling McCoy Tyner, she easily counters Parker's hard and heavy bass work with organic patterning into additional overtones.

It's the same with "Mourning Sunset", as her built up key clusters with chordal color start to resemble "All Blues". As Thompson breaks up the time with ratamacues and opposite sticking, and Parker fuses a repeated bass line, her high frequency dynamics turns to taciturn, softer variations.

No one could accuse the Parker Four of being soft and taciturn on "Harlem" and "Groove", - the almost onomatopoeic riffs that conclude SOUND UNITY. Bluesy rhythm tunes that belie the so-called avant garde's reputation for solemnity, the two centre on rock-solid, resonating bass work from Parker and cross sticking and soft-shoe-like rim shots from Thompson. As for the front line, Barnes' choked, dirty pecks could come from Rex Stewart or Roy Eldridge. Meanwhile Brown's pitch vibrations and slurs plus dangling, flutter-tongued altissimo tones go back past Coleman's cries to the country blues that inspired early jazz. Modernly moderato and impassioned polyphonic at the same time, Brown has rarely played better on record.

Earlier on, those Coleman echoes intensify with the head of "Wood Flute Song" sounding like "Focus on Sanity", as Barnes and Brown operate in double counterpoint, resolutely moving up the scale in unison. A short boppy smear inaugurates the shakes Barnes puts into his solo, while Brown squeals irregular vibrations that intensify rather than detract from the tune. Here and elsewhere the bassist directs the beat like a captain navigating a boat through choppy water, as Drake's splash cymbal, hi-hat coloring and snare and bass drum whacks agitate the waters and speed up the tempo.

Balladically Barnes contributes portamento grace note and Brown tongue stops and slurs to other numbers, yet the quartet's stance is so fixed and forceful that story-telling attributes aren't lost no matter the pitch or tempo,

Of course, all these are preludes or postludes to the 21-minute title track. With the main theme set up by Parker's unvarying pulsation plus paradidles, ruffs and cymbal cross sticking from Drake, the first of its variations ping-pong between Brown's stabbing Jackie McLean-like tone and Barnes' speedy hummingbird-like brass bites. Subsequently open horned with comfortable middle-range grace notes, Barnes halves the tempo for his own melody. Thick slurs from Brown interrupt, then lead to mirrored note patterns, first from the trumpeter, then the altoist. Riffing softly behind the bassist, they then yield centrestage to the bassist whose stentorian layering brings out both the designated note and its reverberating nodes. As the horn blowing increases in volume, Drake cross sticks on his toms and snares, reverberates his cymbals with industrial strength and pounds martially. Walking, Parker reprises the theme, aided by trilling alto and muted trumpet until the tune is suddenly cut off.

You won't have to do that as long as you keep playing these CDs. Most valuable for the Parker follower, individually and together they will impress everyone, whether the music's thought of as conventional or unconventional.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Sound: 1. Hawaii 2. Wood Flute Song 3. Poem for June Jordan 4. Sound Unity 5. Harlem 6. Groove

Personnel: Sound: Lewis Barnes (trumpet); Rob Brown (alto saxophone); William Parker (bass) and Hamid Drake (drums)

Track Listing: Luc's: 1. Adena 2. Song For Tyler 3. Mourning Sunset 4. Evening Star Song 5. Luc's Lantern 6. Jaki 7. Bud in Alphaville 8. Charcoal Flower 9. Phoenix 10. Candlesticks on the Lake

Personnel: Luc's: Eri Yamamoto (piano); William Parker (bass); Michael Thompson (drums)

September 19, 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

DAVID S. WARE

Live in the World
Thirsty Ear THI 57153.2

David S. Ware doesn’t shy away from the Free Jazz label. Unlike some contemporary improvisers who say they play Free Music and treat jazz the way nouveau riche yuppies view acquaintances still wearing last year’s clothes, the tenor saxophonist esteems the tradition that goes back through 1960s New Thing to take in distinctive reed stylists such as Sonny Rollins and before that Coleman Hawkins.

This three-CD set of live performances helps stake his claim as one of the foremost jazz tenor saxophone stylist in the 21st century. Made up of one 1998 Swiss concert and two Italian gigs from 2003, it features three different drummers: the band’s former trapsperson, Susie Ibarra; its present one Guillermo E. Brown; and Hamid Drake, the gentleman from Chicago who often plays with the quartet’s longtime bassist William Parker. Ware’s tough love jazz values are such that they run roughshod over any tendency towards electronica or world music in which some of the other players have indulged at other times. The three hours of music also confirm Ware’s status as a major league jazzer.

Key statement here is the first disc and two additional tracks from the same session on discs two and three that couldn’t have been squeezed onto CD1. By the time it ends, the Ware-Parker-Ibarra-pianist Matthew Shipp four has fused into an indivisible unit of improvisational skill, sort of like the Modern Jazz Quartet or John Coltrane’s classic quartet with McCoy Tyner, Jimmy Garrison and Elvin Jones. Here and on the other CDs, Shipp demonstrates that in the right situation his jazz credentials are fully in order and his comping and pianisms perfectly mesh with the rest; ditto for Parker’s rasping and rhythmic double bass underpinning.

Somewhat constrained by the band’s heavy jazz orientation, Ibarra’s use of offbeat and miscellaneous percussion still confirms that she offered the most varied percussion response to the others’ testosterone-fuelled playing. Drake, whose experience with Chicago veterans like tenor saxophonist Fred Anderson allows him to mix the unexpected with heavy time keeping is also a fine addition. Brown, a beat-meister does his job thoroughly and competently.

His powerful yet commonplace rhythmic work is why CD3 is the weakest of the three discs. Although the lengthening and recasting of Rollins’ “Freedom Suite” are noteworthy, especially for Shipp’s high-frequency gospellish piano work, the four tracks are most impressive to “Suite” virgins. Ware recorded his definitive studio version of the suite for AUM Fidelity (AUM 023) that same year, and the necessity for the preservation of a live version is somewhat louche. Rollins himself only recorded the original once.

Back to the Swiss date however, and the almost 32-minute “Aquarian Sound”. Pivoting on Parker’s walking, modal fills from Shipp, and steady cymbal clinks and bouncing bass drum beats from Ibarra, Ware initially enters mimicking the rhythmic backbeat. Soon, however, he pushes himself into double-tonguing glossolalia, encompassing a swelling crescendo of resonating honks and reverberating blasts. Depending on extended variation provided by sonorous bass thumps, Shipp begins to vigorously voice patterns that seem to draw on Herbie Hancock’s freebop period. Shipp’s dramatic voicing extend the music even further, sluicing from treble to bass clef without interrupting its vigorous flow, and only gearing down half way through to make space for a low-pitched arco solo of strained, high-pitched motions from Parker that melt into moderato and legato shuffle bowing. Meanwhile, Ibarra is cunningly altering the backing with gourd-shaking, gong-soundings and cymbal claps.

When the head is finally recapitulated, by Ware’s droning tongue stops and Shipp’s stolid heavy chording, she has switched to brisk cross rhythms. This precedes a climatic, extended – and concluding – renal scream from Ware.

Ibarra brings similar inventiveness to “Stargazer”, CD3’s bonus track from 1998 appended to the 2003 material. Except in this case the pianist varies his output as well. Feeding prepared, almost harpsichordic tones or quivering, theremin-like timbres to the composition, Shipp’s foreshortened piano expressions meet up with cymbal cracks, varied patterning on the snares, and crosswise stick thumps. Parker’s penetrating bass lines link these quirks with focused comping from Shipp that resembles mainstream nightclub strategies. On top of all this is Ware’s majestic soling, which creeps in mildly then distends into colossal foghorn-like honks and overblowing, nasally masticating the notes.

For the unconvinced, there’s how Ware recomposes Marvin Hamlisch’s “The Way We Were”, as it morphs from unrecognizable to almost familiar. Low-key rumination, split-tone variations and body-tube blasts a cappella is Ware’s initial strategy, until a few minutes later false register glissandi hints at the melody’s harmonics. With his droning vibrato wide and wider and his use of glottal punctuation and double tonguing referencing Rollin’s and Coltrane’s way with a ballad, by the finale he finally double-times the recognizable tune. His variations may be like the tail wagging the dog, but what a tail it is.

Drake’s interface brings out the Tyner-like modal emphasis in Shipp’s playing, scraping and sawing double-stopped runs from Parker and some of Ware’s most emotional soloing. But considering his cross-handed deliberations hardly let a phrase from the others pass without a flam, rebound or ruff comment, lesser histrionics are really Drake’s forte.

One of those tunes is “Unknown Mansion”, an edifice that seems to have been partially built on the calypso-chanting Caribbean island where Rollins likes to dwell. Varying his beat patterns with doubled smashes and Latinesque prettiness, Drake somehow manages to get the usually dour-sounding Ware to appear as if he’s swinging a Louis Jordan ditty. At one point you can swear you hear the riff from “Open the Door, Richard”. Meantime Shipp is uncoiling cadences that contain Monk-like key clipping and steady, left-handed percussive notes. Harmonically conservative compared to Ibarra’s accompaniment, Drake is as externally directed in his solos. Apparently spanking his toms and snares with his palms, he also horizontally cross patterns a single drum on those same surfaces, while simultaneously propelling the beat with hi-hat and cymbal resonation. Ware, almost mellow, returns to sound broken cadences in tandem with Shipp and provides a clenched-teeth version of the head.

Subsequent tunes like “Sentient Compassion” and “Co Co Cana” may feature harder reed tone and shrill whinnying from Ware, but, possibly because of Drake, his abrasive tone is less than it would be with Brown. On the first he reverberates split tones back and forth, as Parker bows vibrating double stops, bringing out the woodenness of his bass along with the solidity of his strings. Combined, the four produce almost ballad-like twittering lines that echo onto themselves. On the later, Ware’s high-pitched yelps, Drake’s rim shots and Shipp’s high frequency double counterpoint serve as backing for a Parker display. Moving from walking to relay race string action on the fretboard, Parker double stops with masculine power and by the end of his solo has Shipp spinning out circular patterns to sustain his momentum.

LIVE IN THE WORLD is a major achievement in quantitative heft as well as music.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: CD 1: 1. Aquarian Sound 2. Logistic 3. Sentient Compassion 4. Mikuro’s Blues CD 2: 1. Elder’s Path 2. Unknown Mansion 3. Sentient Compassion 4. Co Co Cana 5. Manu’s Ideal 6. Lexicon CD 3 [Freedom Suite]: 1. Part One 2. Part Two 3. Part Three 4. Part Four 5. Stargazer

Personnel: Disc One: David S. Ware (tenor saxophone); Matthew Shipp (piano); William Parker (bass); Susie Ibarra (drums): Disc Two: Ware; Shipp; Parker; Hamid Drake (drums) Disc Three: Ware; Shipp; Parker; Guillermo E. Brown (drums)

September 12, 2005

COLLECTIVE 4TET

Moving along
Leo CD LR 418

Collective still as far as leadership is involved, this Swiss-American foursome seems to be MOVING ALONG on its newest CD with increased prominence for the trombonist and pianist.

Not that the role of the bassist and percussionist is reduced to that of accompaniment. When the 4tet features one of the most cohesive rhythm sections on either side of the Atlantic – Zürich-based percussionist Heinz Geisser, who works with Swiss pianist Guerino Mazzola and New York bassist William Parker, who plays with literally everyone – that’s impossible. But the two longer of the three lengthy tracks here appear more like a trombone-piano dialogue than other entries by this quartet.

Both New Yorkers, trombonist Jeff Hoyer and pianist Mark Hennen move in the same circles and play with many of the same people – Hoyer with pianist Cecil Taylor and reedist Sabir Mateen and Hennen with drummer William Hooker and Mateen.

“Drawing from the pool” and the title track, both of which clock in around the 18-minute mark, are built on the pianist’s patterning which ranges from internal cadences and pseudo-bebop lines to high frequency pedal pressure plus the trombonist’s plunger exploration. On both, buzzing lip expansions plus rising and falling cavernous ‘bone growls move in one line, while the piano – and at other points the bass and drums –

move in another. Occasionally, the results sound like a piano trio playing a club gig, while next door a trombonist is practicing. While the textures intersect, Hoyer’s rubato exercises are never so detached that they interrupt the polyphonic cohesion of the four. By the end of “Drawing from the pool” for instance, the tonal centre expands with both foreground players speed augmenting, Hennen’s touch becoming more intense and Hoyer’s output turning higher-pitched with shredded vibrations.

Here and on the title track, Parker and Geisser keep things together, with the bassist often relying on double-stopped repetitive pizzicato and the drummer ruffs and bounces. Midway through this piece however, Hoyer’s half-valve effects – including tapered notes and repeated chest tones – cause Hennen to pile chord upon chord into his congruent solo, while launching prestissimo vibrations at the same time. Decelerating to single grace notes the dynamics of the tune sprawl through agitato to moderato to zart.

Slower and more impressionistic than the other two, the less-than-four-minute “sí en sí” includes more upfront contributions from Parker and Geisser. The bassist partners the pianist’s step-by-step key action with arco squeals, and the percussionist diffuses this arco color still further with bell shaking resonation and hollow wood block strokes.

Eventually sonorous bass lines occupy the bottom sonic, chiming piano notes take up the top and Hoyer slides out resplendent middle tones. Octave-rich, the pianist’s contrasting dynamics jounces against atonality in the final minutes, supported by pressured stops from the bass. Climatically, almost finger-picked right-hand action from Hennen meld with Geisser’s low drum rumble and Parker’s minimalist arco movement to resolve the instant composition’s different components

A fine effort by all concerned.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Drawing from the pool 2. Moving along 3. sí en sí

Personnel: Jeff Hoyer (trombone); Mark Hennen (piano); William Parker (bass); Heinz Geisser (percussion)

May 30, 2005

MATTHEW SHIPP/WILLIAM PARKER/GUILLERMO E BROWN TRIO.

Plays Ware
Splasc(H) Records CDH 862.2

Who would have believed at this late date that underneath his blustery interior melodic and romantic impulses inhabit the soul of Free Jazz firebrand tenor saxophonist David S. Ware? His regular sidemen – to name three individuals.

This CD offers eight of the reedist’s original compositions interpreted by pianist Matthew Shipp, bassist William Parker and drummer Guillermo E. Brown. At its conclusion, without knowing the writer’s identity, you might link the intense pieces are some of pianist Herbie Nichols’ tougher lines or even unknown modernistic Duke Ellington compositions.

Part of this can be connected to the dexterity of Shipp, who when he’s really on, can mix the most advanced keyboard impulses with glancing, sometimes split-second references to earlier jazz masters. But it could also be that without Ware’s oversized presence spewing out frenetic, declamatory saxophone inflections, his compositions’ shape becomes clearer. In truth, Ware isn’t as nuanced a soloist as even Charles Gayle is. Yet when pared to their compositional kernels, these tunes reveal their inner strength, swing, and – dare one say – beauty?

Also, because the CD is called PLAYS WARE, not “sounds of the trio”, Parker and Shipp – two of improv’s most bravura performers – subordinate their massive technical prowess to the themes. Brown, the most recent members of Ware’s quartet keeps himself under wraps, limiting himself to short solos. Elsewhere his constrained snare and cymbal work, often with brushes, stays out of the way. As Ware drummers go, Brown adds more than Whit Dickey may have, though Susie Ibarra would probably have created more unusual textures here.

Among the themes are ones that call upon Shipp’s command of the gospel idiom, impressionistic romanticism and the sort of sharp swing-to-bop cadenzas that bring Nichols’ work to mind. Some detour into expositions that could come from Broadway show themes, and there’s one head that may be a twin of Chicago’s “Color My World”.

Sometimes the pianist uses his metronomic time sense and a weighty touch to rapidly produce ornamental variations on the primary melody. In other cases he’ll sound seemingly endless arpeggios and near-swing riffs that circumscribe one another. Or if need be, he can lighten his tone to skitter across the keys.

Right beside him, as they have done in so in many projects over more than a dozen years, is Parker. Besides adding the bowed intensity of his preferred sul ponticello licks, the bassist uses smooth arco action and thick pizzicato springs to complement or encourage the pianist’s technique. One precise jagged pluck or buzzing spiccato swish can add as much as a multitude of positions from another bass man. Together, the two produce a definitive, dense climax to these tunes. Meantime, Brown’s stick rattling, cymbal shakes or tempo shifting complete the picture.

Compositional interpretations are sometime easier to grasp than the original versions and this CD should impress those who have followed Ware’s work, and those who merely tolerate it. Parker notes that Ware has written over 100 compositions for his quartet alone. If other recreations of his work are at the same high standard as PLAYS WARE, in future the saxophonist could end up like Liszt or Chopin: a performer celebrated more for his compositions than his performing.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Manu’s Ideal 2. Godspelized 3. Dinosauria 4. Lexicon 5. Reign of Peace 6. Wisdom Through Time 7. Dao Forms 8. Mystic March

Personnel: Matthew Shipp (piano); William Parker (bass); Guillermo E. Brown (drums)

May 2, 2005

FREEDOMLAND

Yia Yia’s Song
rent control records rcrcd 012

STEVE SWELL
Slammin’ the Infinite
Cadence Jazz Records CJR 1175

Notes from New York’s Lower East Side underground, these two fine sessions show that the spirit of experimentation still shines brightly whether the sounds are called avant garde, the New Thing or Ecstatic Jazz.

What the nine improvisers are playing here is really noting less than intense modern music, but these sounds are often labeled unconventional since the neo-cons have perverted the idea of modern mainstream.

No matter, featured on SLAMMIN’ THE INFINITE and YIA YIA’S SONG is a literal who’s who of top-flight players. A co-op band, Freedomland is one of the myriad groups that feature bassist William Parker and reedist/trumpeter Daniel Carter. Other members are alto and baritone saxophonist Dave Sewelson and bass saxophonist David Hofstra -- who splits and tuba duty with Parker here – also are in Parker’s Little Huey Creative Orchestra (LHCO). Band drummer, Ex-Bush Tetra Dee Pop plays with a variety of other improvisers. Two other LHCO members, trombonist Steve Swell and reedist Sabir Mateen, are featured on SLAMMIN’ THE INFINITE. Matt Heyner, bassist on that date is in the band TEST with Carter and Mateen. Only German-born drums Klaus Kugel isn’t a regular downtowner. In Europe however he has longtime associations with other progressive Continental musicians such as trumpeter Markus Stockhausen and saxophonist Michel Pilz.

Heir to the avant tailgate style of Roswell Rudd, trombonist Swell, who wrote all the tunes on SLAMMIN’ THE INFINITE, is his own man, adding bop articulation and speed to classic smears and shouts in his solos. Broken counterpoint involving his horn and Mateen’s helps focus, “For Frank Lowe”, a hushed threnody for the recently departed first generation New Thinger. It also shows that these musical explorers know the tradition as well as the neo-cons that claim a monopoly on it.

“Box Set”, a stop-and-go piece, confirms this. Built on a freebop theme from both horns, walking bass and the Kugel’s press rolls, it could have been played by the New York Art Quartet in 1966. As it is, the episodic theme recapitulations give plenty of room for Mateen and Swell to open up. The later offers a double-tongued set of rubato slurs, while the later is in irregularly vibrated Aylerian tenor mode with upper-pitched squeaks. The title track is more of the same, although it features legato blowing from Swell. Also notable are Heyner’s long, loping lines at the beginning and his slurred focused bowing that plucks out individual notes, amplified with a burst of spiccato at the end.

“Dresden Art Maneuvers”, at a second less than 18 minutes, is the set’s tour-de-force. Commencing with a throbbing ostinato bass line plus hunt-and-peck martial drum action, it eventually redefines itself into a series of orchestral miniatures. A cappella, Matten twists out obtuse clarinet timbres, Swell slides out muted and open-horn blats, growls and plunges; Kugel contributes door-knocking raps and a double-quick rush over elevated toms; and Heyner creates a resonating tuning peg-scraping bass line.

A little farther on, the bassist’s grating tone almost push his higher strings into erhu territory – a tone that’s joined by harmonic interjections from rattled bells and shaken cymbals, a wavering tenor sax and bisected by a chromatic trombone line. For a climax, the elliptical trombone exhalation is matched by mirroring movements from the bass.

If the CD does have a modest downside, it’s when Kugel gets overexcited -- or the mix is unbalanced -- and he threatens to mask one or another of the others’ work.

When everything is taken into consideration, though, the CD is a fine example of how four in-tune musicians can accompany and complement one another. It’s another stellar achievement for Swell and company.

The same could be said for YIA YIA’S SONG, though here the kudos have to be divided five not four ways. Or maybe that number should be a dozen, since that’s the collective count of instruments the five use. Only Pop sticks to the singular traps set --though the odd percussion fillip can be heard. On the other hand, Carter is the most versatile, turning in beatific work on alto and tenor saxophones, clarinet, flute and trumpet. The prototypical modest sideman -- which is probably why he’s so busy in New York -- he can contribute a flute tone as rarefied as those created by a legit symphony section player, or blast a plunger line from his trumpet as hot and unrefined as a Dixielander – often on the same piece.

You can hear that on the title tune, which also allows the others to show off their quick-change identities. Undulating flute carries the main theme, which is complemented by a rugged bass ostinato, stuttering cross harmonies from alto saxophonist Sewelson and simian-like ritualistic cries from all concerned. Pop, who could be auditioning for Papa Wemba, sounds as if he’s resonating bugarabu or djembe drums as well as mythic Africanized little instruments.

Hofstra’s bass saxophone tone is restrained here to harmonize with the lead alto line, but on the almost 16½-minute “One Blue Eye”, he gets to stretch and speechify from the farthest reaches of his sax, adding to the harmonic Donnybrook of the others. With the other saxophones whinnying, irregularly pitched and jutting across the bar lines, his reed monster billows, buckles and snorts. Finger cymbal cracks and double stopping bass lines presage pedal point bass sax action with broken horn harmonies vamping behind. Carter adds musette-like writhing counterpoint from his clarinet and Parker, elephant-like trumpeting from his tuba,. Meanwhile, Sewelson, unperturbed, plays a fairly legato alto line.

However elsewhere, in some of his solo spots on baritone, Sewelson confirms his fellowship with Freedomland’s other members of by skronking Pat Patrick-like pitch vibrations with the same facility he brings to mellow Gerry Mulligan-like moderato expositions elsewhere.

If you can’t afford the time and expense to hang out in Manhattan’s East Village or Lower East Side, these two CDs will give you an authentic picture of the freeform music thriving there.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Yia: 1. Don’t Throw Out The Sky 2. Yia Yia’s Song 3. One Green Eye 4. Moonbeams in a Jar 5. One Blue Eye

Personnel: Yia: Daniel Carter (alto and tenor saxophones, clarinet, flute and trumpet); Dave Sewelson (alto and baritone saxophones); David Hofstra (tuba and bass saxophone); William Parker (bass and tuba); Dee Pop (drums)

Track Listing: Slammin’: 1. With the Morning Hope 2. East Village Meet and Greet 3. Box Set 4. Dresden Art Maneuvers 5. Slammin’ the Infinite 6. Voices from the Asphalt 7. For Frank Lowe

Personnel: Slammin’: Steve Swell (trombone), Sabir Mateen (alto and tenor saxophones, clarinet, alto clarinet and flute); Matt Heyner (bass); Klaus Kugel (drums)

March 28, 2005

EVAN PARKER TRIO & PETER BRÖTZMANN TRIO

The Bishop’s Move
VICTO cd 093

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. The Bishop’s Move

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

March 28, 2005

RAPHE MALIK QUARTET

Last Set: Live at the 1369 Jazz Club
Boxholder BXH 042

BRÖTZMANN CLARINET PROJECT
Berlin Djungle
Atavistic Unheard Music Series UMS/ALP 246CD

Getting an understanding of the situation for committed free improvisers in Europe as opposed to the United States in the mid-1980s is pretty obvious when listening to these two live CDs, recorded about two months apart, both of which happen to have William Parker in the bass chair.

In early November 1984, German reedist Peter Brötzmann put together an international, all-star, 11-piece “Clarinet Project” for a special concert in a Berlin theatre as part of that city’s Jazzfest. Beside himself the clarinetists were Tony Coe from England, Louis Sclavis from France, East German Ernst-Ludwig Petrowsky and J. D. Parran and John Zorn from the U.S. But that’s not all. The ensemble also included Japanese trumpeter Toshinori Kondo, East German Johannes Bauer and Briton Alan Tomlinson on trombones, with British drummer Tony Oxley supplying the bottom along with Parker. By all accounts the one lengthy piece was welcomed by the audience.

Across the ocean in Boston, hometown boy trumpeter Raphe Malik was doing a series of local club dates with a trio filled out by Parker and drummer Syd Smart. This CD, recorded at Cambridge’s 1369 Jazz Club, is particularly notable, since the trio was joined by pioneering New Thing tenor saxophonist Frank Wright in his only Boston-area gig. A long-time expatriate and Paris resident, Wright died in 1990. Here too the audience is enthusiastic, but you get the feeling that for most Bostonians -- heck, Americans -- this performance could be dismissed as just another club date by players too stubborn to adopt the fashionable fusion or neo-con styles of the time.

Unsurprisingly -- for pertinent pure improv is about a lot more than in-the-moment fashion and audience accessibility -- both performances feature considerable musical values that recommend them.

Take LAST SET for instance. Undeterred by the fact that this was just another club date, Malik, Wright, Parker and Smart give their all. Maybe they didn’t know how to improvise any other way. Wright especially is so caught in the moment that when he’s not forcing out emotional reed riffs he vocalizes quasi-verbal exhortations during the others’ solos.

This mostly tales place on “Companions #2”, the almost 30-minute centrepiece of the disc. Performed hell-bent-for-leather, it shows that neither front-line partner had lost any efficacy from his so-called 1960s (Wright) or 1970s (Malik) prominence.

From the beginning, Wright slurs and slides and growls and overblows, putting R&B-flavored mid-range vibrated snorts and deeper-pitched honks into his solo. As he mutates variations of the blaring theme, he masticates sounds from the lowest section of his horn’s bow up to the cork attached to his mouthpiece. Malik’s broken octave accompaniment converges with rapid, spiky triplets and sprightly hide-and-seek timbres.

As the trumpeter solos, Wright, caught up in the moment, begins a weird sort of Free Jazz style vocalizing filled with mumbled asides, Bronx cheers and lip trumpet action. Behind him Parker’s speedy arco line reaches a sul ponticello crescendo, while Smart, who labors as a public school teacher as well as playing as a valued local musician, uses his bass drum and sock cymbal to resonate heavy nerve beats and drum paradiddles.

One climax is reached as Malik spews machine-gun style triplets that are soon joined by Wright’s irregularly voiced tenor. As the saxman’s mid-tempo variations on the theme turn to variations on variations -- featuring only a few R&B snorts -- Malik come up with a separate, but complementary theme of sweet, high-pitched grace notes and some bugle-call intimations. Swaying spiccato from the bassist slow the tune down for the finale with splattered triplets from Malik serving as the coda.

Featuring heraldic trumpeting from Malik, double-tongued fanfares and the odd satisfied grunt from Wright, “Sad C”, the first track, is more of the same. However, “Chaser” the final number is an exercise in freebop, which judging from its title, may be a contrafact, with a new head superimposed upon the existing set of changes from Monk’s “Straight, No Chaser”.

Wright’s influences are blusier than bop, however, and his slurred pitch and wide vibrato encourages Malik to sound plunger-focused theme variations as Parker walks and Smart plays a shuffle. Ever heard finger-popping Free Jazz? Here is it in volume. Soon the reedist is snorting raucous riffs over and over again as Malik shrills rubato broken chords in tandem with him. Pedal point chortles and bubbling colored air confirm that the band is still in free territory, but the audience reacts as if it was in attendance at a James Brown performance.

With three times the brass capability and six times the reed power, Brötzmann and company’s polyphony has much more volume but about the same amount of energy as Malik’s quartet on its single almost 50-minute piece. Strangely for a clarinet showcase, the CD begins with a Scottish bagpipe-type air from Brötzmann’s tarogoto that’s quickly joined by the wavering pitch of the other reeds, including Sclavis’ wiggling bass clarinet.

Using tongue slaps for emphasis, the theme’s first development leaves the rhythm section to cleave to the bottom as the horns increase the volume while spurting squeaks and trills. One quarter of the way through, the brass finally asserts itself, with elephant-like trumpeting plus hippo-like snorts and snores from the trombone. Cutting through the responding reed pitches are oddball, vocalized static and whistles, probably courtesy of Zorn’s clarinet mouthpieces. Playing entire passages in ear-splitting altissimo, he alternates harsh raspberries, duck-like quacks and plush toy squeaky timbres. Oxley’s anvil-like bass drum blows and clip-clop cymbal tempos keep things on an even keel until a parlando trombone solo, possibly from Bauer, rouses the audience’s applause.

As Parker’s strums and Oxley’s rhythmic power reins in the jagged peaks and valleys of the horn lines, one sibilant romantic tone supersedes the others. Probably from the clarinet of Coe, whose experience encompasses studio and commercial big band work as well as freer episodes, it provides a moderating influence on the contrapuntal discord around him that starts to resemble ornithological mealtime. With the muted ‘bones supplying rubato counterpoint, the reeds form quivering accordion-like harmonies leading to a finale of sky-high honks and twitters.

The bassist’s screechy sul ponticello lines and the drummer’s irregular patterning on cow bell, wood block and ride cymbal seem merely an afterthought or solo reward for yeoman accompaniment service. Recapitulating the beginning, Brötzmann reintroduces the tarogato and attempts, on pure lung power, to go one-on-one with Oxley. Percussion strength barely triumphs, but only because a posse of other reeds joins in for a postlude of polytonal split tones.

A singular experience BERLIN DJUNGLE produces some memorable textures and must be admired for Bötzmann’s decision to broaden his compositional range. Yet LAST SET also proves that plenty of good music was also being produced far from the spotlight, and which -- like this session -- has only been preserved by happenstance.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Berlin: 1. What A Day First Part 2. What A Day Second Part

Personnel: Berlin: Toshinori Kondo (trumpet); Johannes Bauer and Alan Tomlinson (trombones); Peter Brötzmann (clarinet, tenor saxophone and tarogato); Tony Coe, Ernst-Ludwig Petrowsky, J. D. Parran (clarinets); Louis Sclavis (clarinet and bass clarinet); John Zorn (clarinet and mouthpieces); William Parker (bass); Tony Oxley (drums)

Track Listing: Last 1. Sad C 2. Companions #2 3. Chaser

Personnel: Last: Raphe Malik (trumpet); Frank Wright (tenor saxophone and voice); William Parker (bass); Syd Smart (drums)

February 28, 2005

DAVE BURRELL’S FULL BLOWN TRIO

Expansion
High Two Recording HT001

BENNINK/CLARK/GLERUM
Home Safely
Favorite 01

Instrumental fashions come and go, but one of the most consistent jazz combo configurations is the piano trio. As long as the three sides of the triangle are properly balanced, despite its maturity, it’s still possible to create outstanding sessions. Both these CDs confirm the equation to a greater or lesser extent. Neither could be confused for the other however.

Put simply, EXPANSION is an event -- the first CD by pianist Dave Burrell for an American label since 1966 -- and a masterful addition to his slim catalogue. Not for nothing is the band called the Full-Blown Trio either. William Parker is on bass and Andrew Cyrille on drums.

More conventional, HOME SAFELY was actually recorded in 1994, but not released until now. It showcases 12 compositions by American expatriate pianist Curtis Clark -- who has lived on-and-off in Amsterdam since the late 1970s -- aided by one of the Netherlands top rhythm teams: bassist Ernst Glerum and drummer Han Bennink, who perform a similar function for the ICP Orchestra.

Although born in 1940, and a fixture on the Free Jazz scene since the mid-1960s, Burrell is a far different breed of cat than Cecil Taylor, as the bassist and drummer, who played with Taylor in different epochs could easily tell you. Although Burrell made his reputation playing with fire-breathing saxists like Noah Howard, Archie Shepp and David Murray he was always known as a song man. As long ago as the 1970s he was playing his own versions of ragtime and swing. Burrell, who wrote all the tunes but one here, is a consolidator who weaves musical strands together to make his points. You can hear this as early as the first and title tune.

Beginning with the sounds of straightforward bebop, the composition soon splinters into a Ragtime section, complete with broken chords and percussive pedal work, creating a high-gloss pumping piano line. This glimpse is intensified on “They Say It’s Wonderful”, Burrell’s solo version of the Irving Berlin classic. At times it’s almost as if Willie “The Lion” Smith is working out a stride version of the melody featuring a perambulating walking bass. Burrell’s left hand provides the rhythmic variations as the right hand plays the melody. Working his way through impressionistic note clusters, he reorients the song outwards and ends with flourishes and a Basie-like plink.

“About Face” showcases Cyrille’s marching-band beat that breaks up into rolls and bounces. Continuing the martial theme, Parker adds a woody thump and the pianist goes from key clipping and offbeat runs to studding the tempo and producing a contrapuntal comment at the same time. Another militaristic reference, “Coup d’Etat” featuring jumping freebop keyboard cadenzas, as the drummer taps out the same sort of shuffle he would have given Junior Mance. Finally the piece opens up into a two-handed flourish of impressionistic patterning.

“In the Balance”, with Parker on African kora, is calmer, with the bassist producing finger-picked glissandi to match Burrell’s higher pitched, legato arpeggios. The drummer is barely heard, however. He’s not present at all on “Cryin’ Out Loud”, where the bassman’s whimpering bowed notes from his upper partials move the mood from melancholy to produce a threnody. Parker’s bee-buzzing arco presages an oppressive countermotif from the pianist, who methodically works his way down the scale to the bottom.

If Burrell was part of the re-imagining of the piano starting in the 1960s, Clark, born in 1950 and raised in Los Angeles, doesn’t see anything wrong with the conventional piano trio set up. Interestingly enough, he too recorded a couple of CDs with Murray, who he knows through fellow Angelo, cornetist Butch Morris.

Unlike those two and everyone on Burrell’s CD, Clark is content to play by the rules. All his tunes have a definite beginning, middle and end, and there are times where its too obvious exactly what’s going to fall where.

At the same time there’s still plenty of life in those forms, as he demonstrates on “Another Blues”, “Sean” and his best-known composition, “A Letter To South Africa”.

Unrolling with atmospheric, late night jazz club expansiveness, the first is perfectly paced all the way up to the turnaround. Clark performs as if he’s a combination of Bill Evans and Red Garland with tingling arpeggios falling from his fingers. Meanwhile Glerum take a stolid solo that could have come from Ron Carter.

“Sean”, on the other hand, is built on a moving ostinato, making it resemble a cop show theme. Swinging from the get go, it features Bennink leaning into the backbeat and Glerum hitting a groove that threatens to accelerate from walking to slapping. The most modernistic touches come when the pianist plays a high intensity countermotif.

“South Africa” was first recorded in 1987 with Glerum, pioneering New Thinger John Tchicai on tenor saxophone, Dutch cellist Ernst Reijseger and South African-in-exile Louis Moholo on drums. Perhaps to point out its classic status -- or to compensate for the missing cello -- it’s really the only time Glerum takes an extended arco solo. With the pianist contributing tinkling arpeggios and a modal McCoy-Tyner-meets-Kirk Lightsey tones, the three give it an almost pop song lilt.

Clark’s versatility serves him well in other situations. On “Duped”, another deep- dish, but obviously nightclub-style blues, he creates the sort of descending runs you would expect more from a country bluesman like Otis Spann than a citified Mance. A finger-popper featuring repeated note clusters and sneaky jumps over the keyboard, it shows off Glerum again as he keeps lagging the beat without breaking his time-keeping role. Other times Clark’s pianisms suggest Oscar Peterson, Herbie Nichols and Bud Powell.

Those familiar with the Dutch scene will wonder how well the usually boisterous Bennink is kept under wraps. Sticking mostly to brushes he complements Clark rather than deploying the anarchistic percussion bombs he often lobs at other pianists. Bass drum thumps and ratamacues are kept to a minimum, as are his usual output cymbal lashes and rim shots. Only on “Spooky Conversations” does he indulge in a few breaks characterized by hearty swinging paradiddles and bounces that almost knock the skin off the drum tops. But this is excessively polite for Bennink.

Should piano trio jazz be your thing, than the Clark three will no doubt interest you. But if you’re yearning for a superior example of a master’s art seek out EXPANSION as quickly as possible.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Expansion: 1. Expansion 2. Double Heartbeat 3. Cryin’ Out Loud 4. They Say It’s Wonderful 5. About Face 6. In the Balance* 7. Coup d’Etat

Personnel: Expansion: Dave Burrell (piano); William Parker (bass and kora*); Andrew Cyrille (drums)

Track Listing: Home: 1. Home Safely (& Peacefully) 2. Miss T 3. Ballad of Jake Spoon 4. Espace Theatral 5. Another Blues 6. Sean 7. Sophia 8. Duped 9. Spooky Conversations 10. Scratched 11. Marseille 12. Letter to South Africa

Personnel: Home: Curtis Clark (piano); Ernst Glerum (bass); Han Bennink (drums)

October 11, 2004

MARCIN OLES

Ornette on Bass
Not Two MW 747-2

KLAUS JANEK
Caspar2
a|l|l| 008

PETER KOWALD/WILLIAM PARKER/PETER JACQUEMYN
Deep Music
Free elephant 003

Practically a seminar on solo and duo techniques of the double bass, the three CDs here show that there are multiple ways to showcase an instrument that in its basest (sic) definition is no more than a hunk of tempered wood strung with four long strands of wire.

Intriguingly enough, the three older players -- duets between the late German bassist Peter Kowald (1944-202) and American William Parker on one hand, and Kowald and German Peter Jacquemyn on the other -- stick to in-the-moment free expression, with mixed results. The youngsters, Poland’s Marcin Oles and Bolzano, Italy-born, Berlin resident Klaus Janek, follow more idiosyncratic paths.

Oles’ 12-track CD is a tribute to Ornette Coleman, creating versions of the alto saxophonist’s combo compositions using only his bass. Janek’s CASPAR2 is pure program music. It’s an interconnected six-part suite that seeks to explain the remarkable life of Kaspar Hauser, 19th century Germany’s so-called “wild boy” who emerged at age 16, from living in a pitch dark, tiny straw-filled container unable to walk or speak. Until he was murdered five years later speculation about his potential noble birth occupied Europe. Note the “2” in the title by the way. This 2004-recorded session is the second solo CD Janek has dedicated to the Hauser tale. CASPAR (Solponticello SP-004) was recorded in the late 1990s.

Janek may have consecrated two CDs to the “wild boy” over the past half decade, but countless musicians have been examining, interpreting and saluting the work of Coleman, who in his originality was seen as a “wild man” of jazz, when he first recorded in 1958. Oles may be the first bassist to record a whole solo CD of Coleman themes. But considering many of the heads harken back to the country blues string band tradition, a bull fiddle would seem to be ideal for the task.

You’ll certainly believe that once you’re heard the Krakow-based bassist traverse the tunes. For instance on “Humpty Dumpty”, he speeds up the tempo a bit, yet here and throughout the disc he allows the basic song-like quality of Coleman’s themes to come out. At times as well, his vibrations are such that plucks and the echoing malleable harmonic tones almost sound like two basses.

“Blessing”, on the other hand, is focused on relaxed pizzicato stylings that range all over the strings. Using a mellow tone, Oles never loses sight of the melody, even when double-stopping. For a climax he downshifts to barely audible plucks, then revs up to a more swinging pulse. “Law Years” gets a dramatic polyphonic reading with fricative broken cadenzas. Furthermore, his concentrated pizzicato slaps and his harsh arco runs are so convincing that any need for Coleman’s alto saxophone stating the head are negated.

Oles is comfortable enough with the music to create his own variations as well, adding a “Pop Goes the Weasel” interlude to “Soap Suds” after repetitive staccato bowing to give more color to the proceedings. He also performs three short versions of “Lonely Woman” -- the saxman’s most famous composition -- each substantially different. One turns the piece into a slap-bass showcase, with the variations preceding the overly familiar theme that’s signaled with flat-picking strums. More straightforward, the second features a throbbing ostinato from the lower strings; while the third and final atmospheric bowed version brings out the impressionistic menace buried within the tune.

Kept on an even keel, the improvisations on ORNETTE ON BASS, could almost be termed buffo, compare to how Janek’s 5-string ¾-size bass is used to outline the sad story of the wild child. Someone who has worked with players such as German multi-reedist Wolfgang Fuchs -- as Oles has traded licks with American saxist David Murray among others -- Janek’s skill is such that this recasting of CASPER sounds significantly different than his first version. It may have something to do with his experience with concerts, theater and dance-theatre performances.

Perhaps one can read too much into titles. But, for instance, should you hear the deepening ponticello and muffled col legno wood dragging sounds on “Arriving in the Box” as reflecting Hauser’s wooden imprisonment? When the grainy and abrasive double and triple stopping almost become inaudible and deadened though repetitive, does it mean the boy is trying to find his way out of the box?

Similar question arise with “Last Menuet”, which is “last minute” in German. Here it sounds as if two bows are being used -- one to produce the pedal point and the other to sound out the low-spirited theme, that in German would probably be defined as a todtenlied. A few brief passages introduce a sprightly baroque-like line that sounds as if it’s being played by a cello, then a portamento, zart cadenza that’s cut off before the last strain. Does this represent Hauser’s murder?

Crying and squeaking semitones that scrape tremolos on top of the fingerboard and beneath the bridge, create secondary vibrations. Meanwhile long bow thrusts and spicatto bounces are also part of the recital, as is a tiny touch of walking bass.

But the most descriptive and varied soling takes place on “One Day out of 16 Years”. Creating enough screeching vibratos than one would think that a daxophone was being used, Janek moves his repeated note clusters from shuffle bowing in the lowest part of the bass stave through Bronx cheer-like eruptions into abstract, higher pitched timbres. During the piece some tones sound dense and muffled as if they’re coming from a faraway place. At times you could swear the textures arise from reeds and valves -- or even a synthesizer -- not strings. Finally, at a less-than-languorous pace, the piece draws to a close with diffuse, reverberation and fluttering wave forms until the buzzing string sounds fade into nothingness.

One of the master bassists that Janek studied with was Wuppertal, Germany’s Kowald, a pioneer of the solo bass recital. Double bass duos were another of his specialties as DEEP MUSIC demonstrates. But the two approximately 29-minute tracks couldn’t be more different.

The idea exchange with Parker, organizer of many Lower Manhattan festivals, record dates and collaborations -- some with Kowald -- features a meeting of minds exploring extended bass technique. Somehow the duo with Belgium sculptor and musician Jacquemyn recorded 17 months later produces more friction than insight. Jacquemyn, who works with American expat reedist Jeffrey Morgan and Kowald associate violinist Gunda Gottschalk, doesn’t seem to connect with Kowald. The music is deep in pitch but not communication.

Parker and Kowald were attuned enough to one another’s styles that they could shift parts at a whim. So it’s really difficult to know which one flat picks guitar-like lines at times while the other creates the basso continuum. Their duet is alive with staccato bowed tones on top of whinnying broken chords, constant col legno and concentrated double-stopping shuffle bowing which sometimes produce dog whimpers. Soon the ponticello squealing notes start to sound as if “Reveille” is being played. Meanwhile the other bassist bounces col legno tones back and forth, as moderato fine lines from the other bull fiddle ascend to Pomeranian squeals. One bassist uses circular motions to investigate what can be bowed on the peg box and over the fret board, while the other rumbles agitato broken octaves, altering the tonal centre as he plays.

In contrast, the Jacquemyn duet seems to limit itself to sliding side-to-side motions, more atonal than the work with Parker, but a dissonance of desperation rather than discovery. Much of the playing is a little too hushed and not assertive enough, as if each bassist is saying “you play something and I’ll follow”.

Oddly for veteran Euro Improvisers few distinguishing characteristics appear from either axe. Tones are lost, what should be powerful plucks take on rubber band consistency, resonation and scampering up and down the strings resembles aimless noodling rather than anything else. Five minutes before the end, one -- Kowald? -- unleashes a throbbing single line, but this attempt to get things back on track still leaves the performance pretty muffled. Squeals, whistles and squeaks finally dissolve to nothingness past a billowing oscillating tone.

Jacquemyn, and most definitely Kowald, have done much better work elsewhere and it’s discouraging to describe DEEP MUSIC as only half a session. Still bassists may be more impressed. On the other hand, everyone should be impressed with ORNETTE ON BASS and CASPAR2.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Ornette: 1. Echoes 2. Una Muy Bonita 3. Windows 4. Lonely Women 1 5. Shapes 6. Blessing 7. Lonely Women 2 8. Soap Suds 9. Law Years 10. Humpty Dumpty 11. Questions 12. Lonely Women 3

Personnel: Ornette: Marcin Oles (bass)

Track Listing: Caspar2: 1. First Years 2. Arriving in the Box 3. One Day out of 16 Years 4. Free 5. Last Menuet 6. Epilogue

Personnel: Caspar2: Klaus Janek (5-string ¾-size bass)

Track Listing: Deep: 1. Encounter I* 2. Encounter II+

Personnel: Deep: Peter Kowald, William Parker*, Peter Jacquemyn+ (basses)

September 20, 2004

COSMOSAMATICS

Cosmosamatics Three
Boxholder BXH 041

MICHAEL MARCUS TRIO
Ithem
Ayler AYL006-CD

A versatile, but unappreciated multi-reedman, New York-based Michael Marcus proves that he can hold his own alongside Free Jazz legends on these CDs.

Not only that, but a comparison of the two discs -- one recorded in 1993 and the other in 2002 and 2003 -- shows a remarkable consistency in his approach to improvisations. THREE is probably the more challenging, since Marcus, who is part of Saxemble as well as leading his own groups, shares the front line of the Cosmosamatics with Sonny Simmons.

Simmons, a first generation New Thinger, who recorded with Eric Dolphy and for ESP Disk in the 1960s, is a formidable improvising partner. It’s probably a compliment to Marcus that often his saxello lines and Simmons’ alto sax output are very similar to one another. The older man also plays English horn and the younger baritone saxophone. The two challenge themselves even more on this, the Cosmosamatics’ third CD, since the only accompanist is drummer Jay Rosen, though his inventiveness takes up most of the slack.

ITHEM, on the other hand, features a standard rhythm section -- but what a rhythm section it is. Drummer Denis Charles was the drummer with whom Cecil Taylor’s first recorded, and continued playing with musicians on the cutting edge until his death in 1998. Bassist William Parker was one of those improvisers. On his own, the bull fiddler has probably led, organized and/or played on more outside jazz gigs than anyone during the past 15 years.

So how does Marcus fare here? Excellently, as a matter of fact. Although the live sound is a little rougher on ITHEM than on THREE, he, Parker and Charles more than make up for that with creative resourcefulness.

On the first few measures of “Under the Wire”, for instance, with Parker bowing ponticello and Charles sealing the drama with an undercurrent of whirls, Marcus produces pitch vibrations that could come from a bagpipe, even though he’s only listed as playing alto saxophone and bass clarinet. As the bassman languidly voluminously expands his tones, the reedist double-tongues and squeals out harsh palpitations at a quicker tempo. Finally, Marcus’ wavering full vibrato connects with Parker’s arco output for a conclusion that resembles an idyllic tone poem.

This mood is extended on “Secret Oceans”. But three minutes into the piece the balladic line is transformed into a freebop romp with a walking bass, plus Dolphy-like flutter tongued echoes from Marcus. Arched free-flowing reed arpeggios eventually give way to steady rebounds and rim shots on Charles’ part, with the beat kept steady all the way to the thematic reprise.

All three players provide a healthy dose of avant-garde martial music on the two takes of the title tune, with straight snare drum socks providing a nice contrast to the reedist’s emotional overblowing. “Here At!” finds the bass clarinet weaving an Arabic line in high and middle registers, while the rhythm section members enter into an Africanized mode -- sounding as if one is playing a stringed ngoni and the other a bugarabu drum.

Rosen’s percussion collection almost gives him as many textures to play with as the two rhythm partners have on THREE. But he’s not alone in unexpected pulsation. On “Requiem for Anne Frank”, for example, Simmons’ English horn morphs from trumpet [!] suggestions to snake charmer tones as Marcus sounds out the melancholy, accented theme on baritone.

“Avant Garde Destruct” is, true to its title, a note-crammed dissonant romp with pulsating Sunny Murray-like accents and Milford Graves-like bell ringing from Rosen, some chromatic tongue fluttering from Simmons on alto, and baritone output from Marcus that leapfrogs from R&B-inflected honks to freeboppy trills and doits.

Although written by Marcus, “Cool Burn” features an ESP Disk-like lilting lope with almost out-of-tune asides from both saxmen. Rosen shakes his bell tree again, Marcus whoops and snorts on bari and Simmons uses broken octaves to decorates the top line.

On other pieces individual output ranges from Simmons’ accented sax lines that twin Ornette Coleman’s of the 1960s, to wild, rolling paradiddles and flams from Rosen that relate as much to Gene Krupa’s showstoppers as to more modern, post-bop drumming.

Seldom before has Marcus show off his prowess to such an extent as on these two trio CDs. Maybe he needs the right partners to egg him on.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Ithem: 1. Ithem take 1 2. Under the Wire 3. Secret Oceans 4. Here At! 5. Ithem take 2

Personnel: Ithem: Michael Marcus (alto saxophone and bass clarinet); William Parker (bass); Denis Charles (drums)

Track Listing: Three: 1. Furtura 2. Tonal Magnitude 3. Cool Burn 4. Bring On the Funk 5. 12 Seasons of Love 6. Avant Garde Destruct 7. ‘Round Midnight 8. Requiem for Anne Frank

Personnel: Three: Michael Marcus (saxello and baritone saxophone); Sonny Simmons (alto saxophone and English horn); Jay Rosen (drums and percussion)

August 23, 2004

WILLIAM PARKER/AD PEIJNENBURG

Brooklyn Calling
Dino CD 32004

PAUL DUNMALL/PAUL ROGERS
Awareness Response
Emanem 4101

Familiarity and novelty are the two strategies that can work equally well in improvised music. That’s why CDs with almost the same personnel can sound so different.

Consider the depth of penetrating understanding that goes into the duo session by two Englishmen, multi-reedman Paul Dunmall and bassist Paul Rogers, and contrast it with the interactive first-time meeting between American bassist William Parker and Dutch reedist Ad Peijnenburg. Similar on the surface, both discs define cooperative duo playing. But both arrive at that concordance differently.

Longtime members of Mujician with pianist Keith Tippett and drummer Tony Levin, as well as mates in larger bands led by Dunmall and Tippett, the reedist and bassist first recorded as a duo in 1988. Giving Rogers an opportunity to show off his A.L.L. 6-string bass, each track on AWARENESS RESPONSE features Dunmall on a different horn: border bagpipes, tenor or soprano saxophone.

In contrast, except for one track playing sopranino, Eindhoven, Holland-based Peijnenburg sticks to his main horn, the baritone on the other five tracks. Founder of the international saxophone sextet The Six Winds, which has included Danish altoist John Tchicai and Washington, D.C. tenor man Andrew White among others, Peijnenburg’s other main band features South African percussionists Thebe Lipere and Louis Moholo.

With no strings attached to his improv conception since the mid-1970s, the Dutchman altered his game plan and toured and recorded with Parker for the first time late last year. Someone whose range of activities have included partnerships with nearly every major contemporary saxman from New York’s Charles Gayle to Chicago’s Fred Anderson, Parker was an easy fit. As a first-time duo session, though, his and Peijnenburg’s playing is a lot more cheerily anarchistic than Dunmall and Rogers’ methodical sound triptych,

Featuring his main axe -- the tenor -- on the second track, Dunmall honks out scattered tone patterns as Rogers responds with guitar-like flat picking that glides from the centre up to the tuning pegs. When the saxman moves into reed-biting, squealing and squeaking with an intensity vibrato, Rogers follows suit, producing banjo-like flailing, rapid runs and careful finger picks. As the tenorist rasps out irregular pulses, circular trills and obbligatos, the bassist creates an accompanying pattern filled with double and triple stopping and circular strums. Using string snaps, slurred fingering and staccato stops, Rogers ends with a crescendo of rotating thumb picking that could have fit in with such British folk-rock bands of the 1970s as Pentangle -- if it played free improv.

Throughout both men seem to be playing all the time, and this carries onto “Pressure Response”, Dunmall’s bagpipe feature and “Precious Response” for soprano saxophone. On the later, under-the-breath trills and fibrous obbligatos soon lighten as Rogers creates voluminous, abrasive spiccato tones. Once the arco bowing take on locomotive power with ponticello accents, the saxist exposes trilling ghost notes that soon meld with Rogers’ output. When Dunmall’s swelling smears and twitters get louder and faster, they’re pushed aside by triple stopped basso and forced intermittent timbres from Rogers that are as diffuse as they are continuous.

Arm-operated bellows for his south Scotland bagpipes give Dunmall viscous waves of sound on “Pressure Response”, to which Rogers responds col legno and sul ponticello. With one set of responses woody and the retorts booming as well, the textures become almost too thick here. Finally the bassist surmounts the vibrating, buzzing tones with an impressionistically tinged legato line that soars above the pipes’ pressure.

Reed-biting and kazoo-like timbres make Peijnenburg’s sopranino saxophone playing stand out on “Streetwise”, even on the freewheeling improvisations that make up BROOKLYN CALLING. As a matter of fact, quick chirping twists and vibrated flutter-tongued turns so take up the circus music reminiscent melody, that Parker’s strumming almost fades into the background.

This isn’t the case on other tracks such as “Many Things”, where by the last third the bassman’s ponticello tones and vocalized shouts of “where’d he go” presage harsher, sharper and spikier bent notes from the bull fiddle and some tandem string stretching and syllable scatting. The piece begins with tough, repeating Aylerian glossolalia from the baritone as Parker constructs a bouncing pulsation beneath it. When Peijnenburg introduces irregular pitches and flutter tonguing, the bassist, pizzicato, begins accelerating the tempo in miniature motions so that it’s soon moving one-and-one-half speed quicker than before. Martial reveille, doits and growls enter the air from the sax, which leads to Parker’s spiky scatting.

“Clear Stray” is almost 15 minutes of elongated wind tunnel exhortations from baritone sax, while “Notes from Heaven” offers nearly 20 minutes of mellow, subterranean baritone lines. On the first the saxman uses the trick of creating a bugle-like martial anthem and wriggles the notes every which way as he plays mid-range variations on the theme. His snarling repeated note pattern start to sound like “Mad Lad” saxophonist Leo Parker’s seminal blues-bop from the 1940s as bassist Parker -- no relation -- responds with bouncing, staccato arco lines. On the second piece, the bassist moves from sul tasto to widely-spaced plunks to constrained walking bass, the better to deal with the baritonist’s output, which interspaces snorts, deep, metallic resonating body tube vibrations and renal constraint.

“Pretty Easy”, the concluding track, even shows the two operating in an avant-garde balladic mode -- sort of an updated Harry-Carney-meets-Milt-Hinton fashion.

When Peijnenburg’s subterranean tones dissolve into pure breaths at the end, the newly minted duo have proven they can handle any time and tempo and make it interesting -- as do the two Pauls on the other CD.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Awareness: 1. Pressure Response* 2. Priceless Response+ 3. Precious Response#

Personnel: Awareness: Paul Dunmall (border bagpipes*, tenor+ and soprano# saxophones); Paul Rogers (A.L.L. 6-string bass)

Track Listing: Brooklyn: 1. Notes from Heaven 2. Many Things 3. Streetwise* 4. Clear Stray 5. Pretty Easy

Personnel: Brooklyn: Ad Peijnenburg (sopranino* and baritone saxophone); William Parker (bass)

August 9, 2004

WILLIAM PARKER

Fractured Dimensions
FMP CD 122

COLLECTIVE 4TET
Synopsis
Leo LR 380

Change one man and you change the music, is an old -- and pre-feminist -- Free Music axiom. The converse is true as well, of course. Maintain a consistent combo line up and the sounds become that much more profound, since each player knows exactly what he can count on from the others.

Validating both sides of the equation are the quartets on these two CDs, each coincidentally featuring bassist William Parker. FRACTURED DIMENSIONS, whose title might reflect the recording circumstances, shows what happens when three members of a regularly constituted band -- Other Dimensions in Music (ODM) -- are forced by circumstance to play with someone else at the last minute. More than 78 minutes of music resulted from Alan Silva’s piano and synthesizer tones being grafted onto the sounds perfected by Parker, brassman Roy Campbell and multi-instrumentalist Daniel Carter in a Berlin concert in 1998 when ODM’s drummer was a no show.

More than four years later Parker joined with the other members of the Collective 4tet to record its first CD after a five year hiatus. Luckily, the creative concordance was still flowing among the bassman, fellow Americans trombonist Jeff Hoyer and pianist Mark Hennen plus Swiss percussionist Heinz Geisser. Geisser, who usually works in bands with fellow Swiss pianist Guerino Mazzola, conceived of this co-op group in the early 1990s and its personnel has remained constant since then. Besides Parker, whose list of collaborators at this point probably outnumbers the membership of the United Nations, the other players have certified downtown New York credentials. Hoyer has played with Cecil Taylor and in Bill Dixon’s Vision Festival Orchestra that included Campbell. Hennen has played in large aggregations led by drummer William Hooker and Silva, and in a combo featuring Carter and another Parker associate reedist Sabir Mateen.

Because of this shared background, the Collective 4tet lives up to its name, never coming across as if it was a William Parker quartet with three sidemen. The bassist does add his distinctive rock-solid time keeping to the mix, but SYNOPSIS is as much Geisser’s or Hennen’s or Hoyer’s session as it is Parker’s.

Especially impressive in this context, Hoyer, like Gary Valente in most of Carla Bley’s bands, has a complete command of old time tailgate techniques, screwed onto modernistic impulses. So, on something like the title track, not only can he create protracted plunger tones, but he can also bend and expand them in short chromatic bursts.

Constantly pushing the air forward with his valves, mouthpiece and bell more than with slide positions, he offers fragments of rubato trills. Meantime Hennen contributes low frequency, right-handed syncopation, Parker buzzing, bowed bass notes, and Geisser the spatter and drip of near liquid cymbal timbres. Overall, the sonic compression becomes so viscous that at points it seems as if you’d be unable to cut it with a blade -- not to mention a trombone slide, a cymbal edge or a double bass bow. As the pianist showcases high and low-pitched contrasting tremolos, the piece ends with a protracted trombone exhalation

Other tunes can be just as intense. “Jig”, for instance, begins with National steel guitar-like plucks from Parker, with purposely heavy-handed tremolos and glisses from Hennen, who is intent on curlicue decorations, flashing octave digressions and a cascading waterfall of notes. Eventually the thunder of drum rolls and undulating ‘bone slurs give way to two minutes of complete silence, ultimately shattered by another 50 seconds of prolonged trombone lines, sparking piano glisses, powerful bass plunks and multi-directional percussion.

Although Hennen’s vehement chording and contrasting dynamics and Geisser’s consistent clips, bangs and bops encourage chromatic blats and purrs, the trombonist doesn’t always have to appear musically as if he’s a senile old man -- constantly talking to himself. On “Left Turn”, the appropriately titled, most outside number here, his response to the pianist and drummer is to bury notes in the bell like a small animal digging in the ground, and blow raspberries of almost “treated” colored noises. Geisser drags his drumstick the full length of a metallic resonating cymbal and Hennen first sounds the bottom frame and escapement then drones the string action on the piano’s inside speaking length for their bits.

Conventional piano sounds do make their appearance on FRACTURED DIMENSIONS, but Silva, who first made his reputation as a bassist with Cecil Taylor, Sun Ra and Albert Ayler, usually emphasizes the orchestral colors of his synthesizer. While restraint has never been a watchword in Free Jazz, during the course of this continuous performance, the other musicians play forcefully enough to mute his tendency to come across fortissimo, spewing crescendos like E. Power Biggs playing a massive cathedral organ.

Most of the CD appears to be a prelude and postscript to “Acrosses Rain”, the almost 34-minute climatic track. Showcasing Carter on flute, his unsegmented airy tones meet the pluck and scrape of Parker’s lacerated bass attack and Campbell’s trumpeted grace notes. Somehow here, Silva seems to be able to produce octave jumps and chordal asides along with what sounds like metallic marimba beats and symphonic orchestral textures.

Later, as Silva exposes some Taylor-like repeated syncopated phrases, Campbell begins a melancholy Harmon-muted tone exposition, with burbling, repeated shakes à la Miles Davis. Parker’s swollen swatches of double-stopping arco bass get more abrasive as the trumpeter trills higher and higher notes, seemingly picking up some grit in his tone along the way. Suddenly you realize that the almost Milesean trope has been mixed with some Bubber Miley-style wah wahs with Carter adding slightly more dissonant timbres from his trumpet as well. As Silva enters with a swelling keyboard concord, Campbell pitches his output higher and Carter explores his horn’s limits, at times evidently wallowing in tonal flatness.

Arco, Parker begins mountain climbing with his G-string as his pickaxe, hitting more elevated pitches as he ascends. Soon Campbell reasserts himself, with portamento-smeared tones and higher-pitched extended grace notes, more like Dizzy Gillespie than Davis. Eventually he’s in stratospheric Cat Anderson-territory, moving upwards in octaves as Carter outlines his emotional articulation below.

A valuable figure in any band, that includes TEST and different projects involving Parker and pianist Matthew Shipp, Carter’s chameleon-like character makes him MVP in many situations. Here he can match Campbell’s brassy trumpet flourishes with boppish, razor-sharp alto saxophone trills at one point, then a few minutes later transform the same instrument into a cauldron of cascading dynamics, squealing out hunks of pitchsliding staccatissimo split tones. All this takes place on top of the vibrating surface of Silva’s sythn, as the keyboardist introduces polytones and polyrhythms, intermittently pierced by Parker’s bass tones.

Other times, as on “Eternal Flower”, the saxman vibrates a bury tone for maximum sensual effect, producing the sort of boudoir fireplace warmth from his axe that you would expect from Gene Ammons or Hank Crawford. Behind him, Silva creates an undercurrent of shifting tones. Later Carter masticates the reed for maximum split-tone effects and Campbell barks himself into piccolo trumpet range.

Then there’s “Sonnet For Armstrong”, which may or may not be about Louis A. Carter, smearing out a long-lined tone from the chalumeau register of the clarinet, may have impressed Armstrong, as may have the repeated pattern Parker bows over and over again throughout. But Satchmo may have had trouble warming up to Campbell, muted and high-pitched, going his own way with chromatic double-tonguing and resonating grace notes. And he probably wouldn’t have known what to do when Silva turns on the string part of his synthesizer to birth what appears to be the shriek of a thousand tiny bats that have migrated from a horror flick soundtrack.

While you wonder whether the penultimate plunger-muted trumpet notes are from Campbell or Carter, it’s likely that the quiet, smudged grace notes that combine with a dimineundo of low frequency descending piano chords ending the piece -- and the CD -- are Campbell products.

Altering the band personnel or keeping it constant are the illustrated strategies here. Each CD shows how well each of those concepts can operate in practice.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Fractured: 1. Figures standing in the door 2. Eternal flower 3. End Of famina 4. Vermeer 5. Acrosses rain 6. Sonnet for Armstrong

Personnel: Fractured: Roy Campbell (trumpet, flugelhorn); Daniel Carter (alto saxophone, flute, clarinet and trumpet); Alan Silva (piano, synthesizer); William Parker (bass)

Track Listing: 1. Convergence 2. Going ahead 3. Synopsis 4. Left turn 5. Jig

Personnel: Jeff Hoyer (trombone); Mark Hennen (piano); William Parker (bass); Heinz Geisser (percussion)

January 12, 2004

JIMMY LYONS

The Box Set
Ayler aylcd 036-040

Charlie Rouse with Thelonious Monk, Paul Desmond with Dave Brubeck and Harry Carney with Duke Ellington are three saxophone players who signed on for such long stays with the aggregations of well-known pianists, that their individual achievements were subsumed in the composer/keyboardists’ visions.

Unfortunately, alto saxophonist Jimmy Lyons (1931-1986) is another example of this. Aide-de-camp to pianist Cecil Taylor from 1961 until shortly before his death from lung cancer, he like Rouse, Carney, and possibly Desmond, was so much part of the Taylor sound that he was consistently undervalued on his own. Worse, or better, depending on how the person viewed Taylor’s music, Lyons was also often described as merely a misplaced bopper whose steadying presence helped amplify some of the pianist’s more outside ideas.

In truth, Lyons also recorded on his own and played with his own groups during this period, but with much less fanfare. Plus, as this lovingly prepared five-CD set demonstrates, the saxist was, in a purely musical way, like one of those seemingly milquetoast businessmen who turn out to have a debauched secret sex life. The performances here -- which range from solo to quartet dates -- show that Lyons was very much his own man. Not only had he mastered many of Taylor’s individualistic free sound preoccupations, but he was also a sound tutor who helped point the way for musicians who later joined Taylor’s bands and/or established their own careers.

It goes without saying that it’s impossible -- not to mention self-defeating -- to try to listen to the almost 6½ hours of music here at once. Savoring one disc at a time, or skipping among the selections is a better strategy. As a guide, a 62-page booklet, chock full of biographical, discographical and recording data is included.

Tellingly, some of the most impressive sounds can be found on the first and final CDs, which are also the only two that showcase quartets -- two completely different ones at that. The first -- recorded at New York’s famed Studio Rivbea -- features Lyons in the company of a very young trumpeter Raphe Malik -- four years before he first recorded with Taylor -- veteran drummer Syd Smart, who has been based in the Boston area for many years and the late Buffalo-born bassist Hayes Burnett, who also toured with Sun Ra’s Arkestra.

The last, recorded at Massachusetts’ Tufts University, a year before Lyon’s death, but when he was already ill, finds his alto tone considerably deeper, but without any loss of brightness or lack of ideas. His helpmates here are the altoist’s longtime partner, bassoonist Karen Borca; drummer Paul Murphy, who was Lyon’s drummer from 1978 until the end; and bassist William Parker, then part of Taylor’s band and since then one of the most prodigiously recorded jazzers.

In 1972, a year after he had major surgery to correct a congenital lung disorder, Lyons was at the top of his form, as her shows in a program that mixes freebop, ballads and “Jump Up”, one of his best-know compositions. That tune is given the full treatment, with each man proffering sequentially linked phrases that further amplify the diatonic figures. Although Smart’s drumming is so overbearing, with its martial bangs and cymbal smashes, that it almost buries the solid bass playing, the front line fares better. Malik proffers a brassy twist to Lyon’s bounding work, until the altoist turns from trading phrases with him to literally answering himself. “Mr. 1-2-5 Street”, on the other hand, is a straight, freeboppy blues with walking bass and the drummer bearing down on the skins. Lyons constructs his solo out of slight sound shards, while the trumpeter concentrates on burnished notes, and bent, open-horn rubato shakes.

“Gossip” finds Malik blowing out grace notes and emphasized repeated phrases on its almost Middle Eastern-sounding head in such a way that his output sounds Louis Armstrong-like brassy. Smart’s rages over the entire kit are firmly in the style of Sunny Murray, with whom Lyons would go on to record a memorable session in 1980.

Flash forward to 1985 and the Dolphyesque cast to Lyon’s playing is gone, replaced by a more compressed tone that often slides into the tenor register. With his emphasis on melody and interpolation of a quote from Don Cherry’s “Awake Nu” on “Tortuga”, another often-recorded composition, you can hear Lyon’s links to Charlie Parker, filtered through a more modern fillip. By this point, squeals and squeaks often arise spontaneously from the playing of both Lyons and Borca, but not enough to disrupt the music’s flow. Plus, with a rhythm section like Murphy and Parker present, the performance is traditional enough to offer solo room to everyone.

As it would on anything recorded with Lyons for years before this, Borca’s tangy bassoon timbres give the group a sound unlike any others. It even gives new resonance to “Wee Sneezawee”, which is tackled less successfully in a trio format on Disc 4. Here though Borca’s multi-shaded, bubbling bassoon pitches mix with Murphy’s rolling rim shots and resonating cymbals plus Parker’s unvarying pulse to properly cushion Lyon’s version of the theme and its final reprise. Bull fiddle plucks take nearly every available space on “After You Left” as well, which evolves into a duet between Parker’s string sounds and Lyon’s warm legato tone.

Murphy shines on pieces like “Shakin’ Back”, named for Lyon’s grandfather’s fried chicken restaurant. Busier than in earlier sessions, he breaks up the time with rolling asides and quick flams as Parker presses straight ahead and the alto man honks. It should be pointed out that tape hiss is most apparent during Parker’s solo, but that probably results from the engineer overloading the circuits to catch Lyons and Borca trading fours far away from the mic.

Lyons, Murphy and Borca recording as a trio the year before, try to reach these heights, but lacking a chordal instrument of any type puts all the pressure on Murphy, especially as each of the horn players lays out for a time during the other’s solo. Using the solid, piquant textures of the bassoon to create presto portamento tones, Borca manages to expand her timbre without busting it and showcases some freak register slurs on an another version of “Shakin’ Back”. Yet with only an occasional trill from Lyons, the drummer can be only so inventive with his rolls, bounces and paradiddles.

What does come out, however, especially when the three move through Lyons’ standards like “Wee Sneezawee”, is the alto man insuring that the lyric and harmonic parts of the tune aren’t neglected. As tones move among the three, the bassoon’s rumbling, growling buzzsaw tone provides the pedal point riffs and the alto wide siren slurs. On his own without Taylor, Lyons, the melody man, appears to be playing more outside than with his longtime keyboard associate.

Maddeningly, six solo outings, recorded at New York’s Soundscape confirm and deny this observation. Building some of the reed showcases out of saxophone finger exercises and other parts of his practice regime, Lyons screams and overblows at times, but with definite purposes in mind. On “Clutter”, the longest tune of the set, he seems to be trying out various pitches and timbres for size. He speeds up and slows down the instant composition, double tongues, reed bites and overblows certain sections. At the same time among the honking harshness he manages to quote from both Monk’s boppish “Bemsha Spring” and the ballad “It Might As Well Be Spring”.

Moving from Spring to Autumn and back a few years, Lyon’s trio session at Studio Rivbea from 1975 is unfortunately the weakest link here. Playing at much greater length than elsewhere -- “Family” clocks in at almost 41½ minutes and “Heritage I” at slightly less than 37½, for instance -- Lyons appears to be in a Sonny Rollins mould circa “East Broadway Rundown”. Problem is that Burnett’s rubbery and thumpy bass lacks the staying power that someone like Parker -- or one of Rollins’ bassists like Henry Grimes or Jimmy Garrison -- could bring to a trio display. When he bangs his fist against the wood of his axe on “Family”, for instance, he sounds more frustrated than rhythmic. Bowing widely and abstractly and splitting his tones into atom-like phrases at the end somehow compensates for earlier hesitation.

Drummer Henry Letcher, who after his 18 month tenure with Lyons went on to play with the Merrymakers calypso band and manage a West Indian radio station, is also no Murphy or Smart. Concentrating for the most part on hard triples from his snare and repeated rolls, his ornamentation soon fades into constant identical whacks that are intense, yet rarely advance the composition. Playing at his most minimal here, Lyons offers up almost split-second phrases, which are no sooner sheared from the reed than replaced by others. At points he introduces glossolalia, a very unusual move for the restrained urban player that he was. With a diminuendo of mouse-like squeaking trills dribbling out to finish the piece, it appears to end with allusions to “Reveille”.

Besides all this music, a short, recorded interview with Lyons from 1978 is included. It’s most noteworthy because Lyons, who was mostly self-taught after learning the horn’s rudiments from former Fletcher Henderson band clarinetist Buster Bailey, reveals that following a jam session meeting, Count Basie reed soloist Rudy Rutherford also gave him some formal pointers.

This box set of live dates doubles the number of CDs currently available under Lyons’ name. Unlike some players, associates report that he was so fastidious that he wouldn’t record until he thought that he was truly ready. Everything was done on his terms or not at all, which means that many memorable improvisations have been lost forever. Thus this live set will be welcomed by anyone interested in the man and the currents of music flowing in the 1970s and 1980s.

Perhaps Letcher can have the last word when discussing Lyons and the time within which he played. “A lot of other musicians got lost in revolutionary thought as opposed to music,” he notes. “But Jimmy was totally about music.”

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: CD 1: 1. Jump Up 2. Gossip 3. Ballad One 4. Mr. 1-2-5 Street 5. Jump Up #2 6. Round Midnight CD 2: 1. Family 2. Heritage I CD 3: 1. Heritage I 2. Clutter 3. Mary Mary Intro 4. Never 5. Configuration C 5. Repertoire Riffin’ 6. Improv Scream & Clutter II CD 4: 1. Wee Sneezawee 2. After You Left 3. Theme 4. Shakin’ Back 5. Good News Blues 6. WKCR Interview CD 5: 1. Wee Sneezawee 2. After You Left 3. Tortuga 4. Gossip 5. Shakin’ Back 6. Driads 7. Jump Up

Personnel: Raphe Malik (trumpet [CD 1]); Jimmy Lyons (alto saxophone); Karen Borca (bassoon [CD 4 and 5]); William Parker [CD 5], Hayes Burnett [CD 1, 2 and 3] (bass); Syd Smart [CD 1] Henry Letcher [CD 2]; Paul Murphy, [CD 4 and 5](drums)

January 5, 2004

WILLIAM PARKER & THE LITTLE HUEY CREATIVE MUSIC ORCHESTRA

Spontaneous
Splasc (h) WS CDH 855

SATOKO FUJII ORCHESTRA-EAST
Before the Dawn
NATSAT MTCJ- 3010

Downtown, they say, is a state of mind. So is so-called downtown music, as these two live big band sessions demonstrate. With polychromatic ideas enlivening both groups, and with composers extending and distend the status quo, the points of congruence between SPONTANEOUS -- recorded in May 2002 at the epicentre of hip, Manhattan’s CBGB’s -- and BEFORE THE DAWN -- recorded 16 days later at a jazz festival in Hamamatsu, Japan -- are closer than you’d imagine.

Each CD features a clutch of top-rank soloists and section players, although the first CD’s two compositions are firmly in the instinctive tradition of post-New Thing large ensembles, while the BEFORE THE DAWN’s five tunes are more carefully arranged. That difference may reflect the orientation of the leaders, though, rather than where each is domiciled.

Bassist William Parker, the unofficial mayor of New York’s Lower East Side, has been in thick of the avant garde for 30 years, playing with groups of every size and with everyone from Cecil Taylor to David S. Ware. Formally educated with degrees from both Japanese universities and Boston’s New England Conservatory, pianist Satoko Fujii has evolved her own style drawing on mentors like Paul Bley, traditional Japanese sounds and echoes of post-Rock. She also lives part of the year in Tokyo and part in New York, where besides leading smaller bands, she helms her Orchestra-West, with sidemen often closely allied to the Parker circle.

DAWN allows her to show off her hometown team as Orchestra-East, which is both good and bad. Some 0f the players have a history in the Island’s somewhat insular experimental music scene, and add unexpected textures to her composition. Others toil at more conventional gigs, which on this disc sometimes leads to the creation of vamps from the sections that are more reminiscent of the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Orchestra than so-called outside large bands.

This musical schizophrenia is most notable on the almost 20 minute “Joh-Ha-Cue”. Initially moody and atmospheric, it begins by featuring Kunihiro Izumi, the alto saxist from Shibusa Shirazu (SS), a local avant-big band soloing in a reedy Klezmer-lite style. But in his showcase, Pikaia leader trumpeter Takao Watanabe moves between a whinnying muted lead line and a Maynard Ferguson-like screech. Almost before you know it, SS’s drummer Masahiro Uemura is bearing down on the sounds like a rock-influenced Buddy Rich and bassist Toshiki Nagata comes up with enough highly amplified thumb pops to fit in on a Brothers Johnson West Coast R&B session. Here and elsewhere, tenor saxophonist Hiroaki Katayama takes on the role Flip Phillips and much later Sal Nistico had in successive Woody Herman Herds: the reed sparkplug whose gruff growls and honks goose on the others.

Eventually swing gives way to gentle suggestion of gagaku music in the tune’s second section, with SS’s baritone man Ryuichi Yoshida, providing gentle, rural- sounding flute playing that could almost come from a shakuhachi. Cowbell thwacks and irregular patterns characterize the drummer’s contributions, until unison andante trombone lines give way to an open-horned, chromatic trumpet solo by Natsuki Tamura, Fujii’s husband and closest collaborator. Working with only the bass and drums behind him, his outbursts alternate with unison smears from brass and reed sections. As the other horns ascend and descend the chord structure, the drummer rolls and ruffs. Tamura then comes up with some unexpectedly gritty freylach tones, while the bassist’s unvarying rhythmic structure holds the tune together. Ending with all 15 musicians shouting out discordant timbres as loudly as they can, the coda showcases Jungle-style plunger work from the trumpeter.

Earlier, on “Pakonya”, baritonist Yoshida slurs, snarls, shouts and triple tongues out split tones, bouncing in and out of the altissimo range to confirm his avant-garde credentials. Added as well are darting Cecil Taylor-like arpeggios from the keyboard, one of the few times Fujii solos. Nevertheless, the underlying theme is strictly AfroCuban, complete with the band members noisily vocalizing, as well as a Randy Brecker-style high notes and brassy solo that isn’t ascribed to, but probably comes from trumpeter Yoshihito Fukumoto, who plays in Orquestra de la Luz, Tokyo’s (!) most acclaimed salsa band.

On other tracks there are effervescent and symphonic suggestions that meld conventional horn parts with contributions from Fukumoto, Free Improv veteran trombonist Tetsuya Higashi and tenor saxophonist Kenichi Matsumoto, whose slow, gliding aural walk contains a sprinkling of split tones. With wounded rhino squeals from the baritone sometimes vying with Arabic-sounding high reed interludes, and a restless drummer whose boppish bomb-dropping mixed with steady rock-like thump alternately pays homage to Kenny Clarke and Rush’s Neil Peart, other tracks seem to lack a cohesive vision.

Then again would the unison vocal spirit chanting that mixes with riffing horns on “Wakerasuke” have an additional resonance for an Oriental, rather than an Occidental audience? Older pianist Toshiko Akiyoshi wrote a similar section in a composition on her SHOGUN album years ago. With the sound reminiscent of a crowd at a sumo wrestling match or amateur talent time in Bedlam, it adds a confusing subtext to the piece. Otherwise it’s all daringly speedy bass runs, mewling trombone slurs, honking, dueling tenor sax lines plus octave jumps and piano clipping from the leader.

More catholic in conception than Fujii’s CD, SPONTANEOUS is a sound monument to the bigger band currents that have been around since ASCENSION. Setting the pace with judicious rhythm at the beginning, Parker is subsequently heard as infrequently on his session as Fujii is on hers. Here he sets up the pulse, helps create some light, Gil Evans-like rhythmic underpinning, and then gets out of the way for the other 16 musicians.

Along the way Gold Sparkle Band (GSB) member Charlie Waters sounds out some shrill, split-tone swaggering clarinet tones and trumpeter Matt Lavalle moves from shrill slurs, a more mellow middle register and chromatic runs, with the double drum team hitchhiking along behind him. Lavalle ends his solo double-tonguing with an allusion to the Woody Woodpecker theme. Squealing, multiphonic alto work from Rob Brown, trombonist Dick Griffin’s more expansive brass vibrations, lockstep rhythmic patterns and double bass drum pedal action and press rolls set up other standards. As another point of difference between this group and Fujii’s, tenor saxophonist Sabir Mateen may double time and swoop over the massed sections playing behind him, but you wouldn’t confuse that work with what Joe Farell used to do with the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis band. This is especially true when Mateen introduces snarling panting dog tones.

Throughout, there’s enough room for the soloists as there would be in more traditional big bands, yet riffing tutti passages, with the occasional high trumpet trill poking through the other sounds, provide the connective tissue to holds this together. By the end of the first track, the sections are moving as one, with themes sounded at different times varying the beat, all of which finally combine into a lumbering, shuddering end stop.

Dedicated to bassist Charles Mingus, there are times on the second track that the offbeat shuffle from the drummers -- who individually power the GBS or David S. Ware’s and Matthew Shipp projects -- plus the wiggling, blaring brass are more reminiscent of Sun Ra’s Arkestra or a studio funk band than anything Mingus wrote. Still Alex Lodico, playing Jimmy Knepper to Parker’s Mingus, corkscrews out emphasized plunger tones with a bit of grit at the end, while longtime Parker associate, trumpeter Lewis Barnes glisses from bent notes to repetitions. As the band forges on polyrhyhmically, with a tuba’s pedal point ostinato added, trumpeter Roy Campbell, Parker’s associate in Other Dimensions in Music, makes his way up the scale in half step grace notes backed by a steady walking pulse from the bassist. All around him the brass peck out their parts as the reeds surge and smudge the bar lines below them. As spontaneous hand clapping breaks out -- another Mingusian touch -- Matten overblows himself into dog whistle territory. Spurring the band forward as it undulates back-and-forth at the same time, his reed-shattering, incendiary tones serve the same incendiary purpose tenor saxophonist Booker Ervin’s did with Mingus. With the reeds and brass still detonating sounds every which way the piece fades away.

Whether your preference is for downtown Tokyo or downtown Manhattan, if you’re a modern big band follower, you’ll probably want both these discs.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Spontaneous: 1. Spontaneous Flowers 2. Spontaneous Mingus*

Personnel: Spontaneous: Lewis Barnes, Roy Campbell, Matt Lavalle (trumpets); Dick Griffin, Masahiko Kono, Alex Lodico, Steve Swell (trombones); Dave Hofstra (tuba)*; Rob Brown (alto saxophone, flute); Ori Kaplan (alto saxophone); Charlie Waters (alto saxophone, clarinet); Sabir Mateen (alto and tenor saxophones); Darryl Foster (tenor and soprano saxophones); Dave Swelson (baritone saxophone); William Parker (bass); Andrew Barker, Guillermo E. Brown (drums)

Track Listing: Dawn: 1. Pakonya 2. Joh-Ha-Cue 3. Wakerasuke 4. Before the Dawn 5. Yattoko Mittoko

Personnel: Dawn: Natsuki Tamura, Yoshihito Fukumoto, Takao Watanabe, Tsuneo Takeda (trumpets); Hiroshi Fukumura, Haguregumo Nagamatsu, Tetsuya Higashi (trombones); Sachi Hayasaka, Kunihiro Izumi (alto saxophones); Hiroaki Katayama, Kenichi Matsumoto (tenor saxophones); Ryuichi Yoshida (baritone saxophone, flute); Satoko Fujii (piano); Toshiki Nagata (bass); Masahiro Uemura (drums)

December 15, 2003

THOMAS BORGMANN/PETER BRÖTZMANN/WILLIAM PARKER/RASHIED BAKR

The Cooler Suite
GROB 539

Serendipitous accomplishment, this live quartet disc is one of those unplanned sessions that ends up being released when it’s discovered that the night’s work was better than anyone imagined.

Flushed with the go-for-broke excitement that characterizes the best Free Jazz, the CD is a cleaned up version of what was recorded over an a cheap ferro cassette of demos that German saxophonist Thomas Borgmann shoved into the mixing board one night in 1997. A DAT recorder wasn’t working.

The place was a now-defunct Manhattan dive called The Cooler and the dramatis personae the Münster-born, Berlin-based Borgmann on sopranino and tenor saxophones; Wupppertal’s Peter Brötzmann on alto and tenor saxophones and a-clarinet; plus two Americans: bassist William Parker and drummer Rashied Bakr, who together make up the rhythm section of Other Dimensions in Music. Brötz and Borg are also old buds; Parker has played often with Brötzmann; and Borgmann’s American associates are numerous, although excepting Bakr, who usually toils as a social worker.

Maybe because no one thought of this as anything other than a regular gig, the pressure was off for anything but creation of the music.

Beginning with a raw burst of glossolalia in Brötzmann’s distinctive reed-shredding style, the two, almost half-hour tracks develop as the saxman, seconded by Borgmann, pours on the power and is met by the equal power from Bakr and especially Parker. Due to another miscalculation, the bassist, plugged right into the mixing board, comes across so “hot” that at times his tugs, strums and reverberations threaten to submerge even Brötz’s improvising.

Not that can happen. Beginning with undulation of unalloyed screech, his reed work -- backed by a complementary counterline from the other tenor -- forces Parker to quadruple stop and the drummer to keep up a steady rat tat tat on his snares and a woodblock. Speaking of wood, Parker often seems to be sawing it as much as he plays on it, as he strokes and manipulates his instrument and the four strands of catgut mercilessly. After Brötz switches to clarinet, the piece become even more of a duet for a time with the saxman’s gangling chalumeau vibrations spurring the bassist to guitar-like strums, double stop up high near his pegs and walloping his strings foursquare.

Although Bergmann’s double-tongued trills on his sour, Eastern sounding sopranino try soon to mellow the proceedings, the others have none of it. Split-tones, honks and reed-biting obbligatos push Wuppertal’s finest further, so that he ends the piece shrieking like a horror movie werewolf, newly liberated from a dark cave. “Part 1” is all tension and no release.

“Part 2” continues in the same jugular vein, with Brötzmann’s renal squeals turning first to spetrofluctuation, then to nasty growls as the drums roll and ratasmascue and the bass timbres fluctuate from triple stopping to wooden board-like hammering. Abandoning timbres that resemble chalk scratching a blackboard, the clarinet and sopranino mix floating tones -- a half step apart -- until the rhythm section pulse reaches such a crescendo of musique brut that Brötz inserts the larger horn into his mouth again and enters stratospheric, ear-splitting territory. Blowing higher, harder and with enough diffuse notes so that his reed vibrations have vibrations, he brings Borgmann back into the mix as they combine into a weird harmony of blowing and honking. Ending is a single press roll from the drummer.

With the audience as pumped as you would hear at a Punk or Heavy Metal concert, THE COOLER SUITE shows that a quartet of men in their forties and fifties have to take back seats to no one when it comes to producing surges of white hot excitement.

It should be noted, though, that this is no audiophile recording. Besides the over-recording of Parker’s bass, the sound is sometimes unstable and cuts out for several seconds a couple of times. Like the Dizzy Gillespie-Charlie Christian sessions at Minton’s or Albert Ayler’s at Slugs, a decision has to be made here whether music or high fidelity is of paramount importance to you.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. The Cooler Suite Part 1 2. The Cooler Suite Part 2

Personnel: Thomas Borgmann (sopranino and tenor saxophones); Peter Brötzmann (alto and tenor saxophones, a-clarinet); William Parker (bass); Rashied Bakr (drums)

October 13, 2003

WILLIAM PARKER

Scrapbook
Thirsty Ear THI 57133.2

William Parker’s name may be above the title, but as the subtitle -- violin trio -- makes clear, the spectacular success of this CD rests in the bow and four strings of Billy Bang.

Legitimate successor to the mantle of Stuff Smith as jazz’s most original string soloist, New York-based Bang’s output has been inconsistent since he first came to prominence in the late 1970s with the String Trio of New York. But everything must have been in alignment on this date as Bang cuts loose on a half-dozen of Parker’s compositions, backed by the New York bassist and Chicago drummer Hamid Drake.

On “Singing Spirits”, which Parker dedicates to Charles Mingus, not only are the creations of his fiddle speech-like, but instrumentally the phrases are tougher than any gang-associated rapper could even hope to equal. At time Bang’s tone is so abrasive that it sounds as if he’s cutting into the wood and the catgut to slice out the music. Never a believer in proper violin timbre, his lines are even more dissonant here as he aims for the spirit beneath the music. At times he sounds like the type of country violinist who recorded with Mississippi blues pioneer Charlie Patton or perhaps an African one-string fiddler. Yet Parker’s string progression and the color from Drake’s press rolls and cymbal power, cut that primitivism with the sophistication of a modern improviser.

Parker describes “Dust on a White Shirt” as a “square dance song”. It’s more like a country and western blues, though, sort of what would happen if country fiddler Johnny Gimble knew Stanvinsky or if Muddy Waters and Anton Webern got together at a barn dance. Piercing at times, Bang’s tone sounds that way in order to allow him to play as quickly as he needs. Most of the time he seems to go beyond portamento and never take the bow off the strings, while Drake provides the rhythmic bounce. Countrified all right, at one point it seems that the violin lines and Parker’s solid bass pulse are sounding out “Turkey in the Straw”.

“Sunday Morning Church” is the bassman’s real showcase however. As secular as it is sacred, the polyphonic, more than 11½-minute composition mixes a tough ostinato from Parker and Bang’s melancholy violin line. The fiddler spends so much time figuratively speaking it tongues though, that sometimes it seems he’s sounding two violins simultaneously. Meanwhile the bassist revels in the resonation he can get from the lowest part of his instrument, never pretending that he’s playing a cello or a bass guitar. Eventually the tune resolves itself into a cousin of one of John Coltrane’s single chord vamp pieces, in near inert tempo.

On other tracks on the CD based, says Parker, on memories and images from dreams, Bang trade fours with Drake, but the overriding auditory image he suggests is that of a string quartet made up of four violinists, each quadruple stopping with solos in palatable screech mode.

Want a bang up demonstration of the skill of Parker of a composer and/or Bang has a soloist? SCRAPBOOK is the CD for you.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Scrapbook 2. Sunday Morning Church 3. Singing Spirits 4. Dust on a White Shirt 5. Urban 6. Holiday for Flowers

Personnel: Billy Bang (violin); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums)

September 22, 2003

BRÖTZMANN/PARKER/DRAKE

Never Too Late But Always Too Early
Eremite MTE 037/038

FRODE GJERSTAD TRIO WITH PETER BRÖTZMANN
Sharp Knives Cut Deeper
Splasc (h) CDH 850

More than 35 years after he roared onto the international Free Jazz scene, German reedist Peter Brötzmann’s playing still seems as ferocious as ever. This is a good thing. For unlike some of his contemporaries who have settled into a sort of middle-aged timidness, the tenor saxophonist still improvises with the same intensity and commitment at 60 as he did when he was 25.

Those who now hear a newly toned down Brötzmann are also a bit deluded. For the saxman’s playing has never been out-and-out raunchy and, as these two -- actually three, one is a two-CD set -- sessions demonstrate, his creations, are as solid or as subtle as he wants them to be.

Furthermore, Brötzmann, whose very first trio -- with the late German bassist Peter Kowald and Swedish drummer Sven-Åke Johansson -- was an international affair, has continued to maintain his non-German connections. Case in Point, NEVER TOO LATE is a record of his American trio with bassist William Parker and drummer Hamid Drake, while SHARP KNIVES adds Brötzmann to the working trio of alto saxophonist Frode Gjerstad of Norway, filled out by fellow Norwegians bassist Øyvind Stroresund and drummer Paal Nilssen-Love.

Dedicated to Kowald, who first explored the then new music when they were both teenagers in their hometown of Wuppertal, the tracks on NEVER TOO LATE are alternately as stormy as the music the initial trio first made, and as sombre as a threnody should be. Kowald died of heart failure in September 2002 between the recording and release of this live set.

Encompassing three tracks, the title tune begins with mournful clarinet tones from Brötzmann and restrained arco work from Parker. Unsurprisingly the reedist keeps the growled melancholy theme going for several minutes, only occasionally heading into higher, screech mode as the bassman produces thick and solid chords and Drake appears to be doing little more than merely touching the drums. Although an instant composition, the band probably decided to use it as a memorial since the subsequent solo by Parker, who also had a longtime association with Kowald, is rooted in the creation of simultaneous tones, overtones and undertones that the German bassist would have appreciated.

By the second track, Brötzmann on tenor, is keening like a traditional Muslim widow, sluicing out slipsliding shrills and overblowing tones. Drake has turned to harder rock-style drum beating, as the saxman seems to relinquish his control and turn to multiphonics -- if it’s possible to quadruple-tongue, he’s doing it. Finally, as the rhythm section gradually slows down then speeds up its accompaniment, the beat settles and the saxman’s irregular vibrato gets so frenzied that it almost seems as if he’s about to levitate. Ghost notes, false fingering, flutter tonguing combine as entire passages are taken in sopranissimo pitch. Soon the entire audience is screaming as Brötzmann honks out elongated tones to the climax.

“Half-hearted beast” seems almost anti-climatic in retrospect, with an re-energized reedman screeching a cappella as if he playing a hunting horn leading a charge at the foxes. Meanwhile, Drake’s free, but rhythmically powerful, rim shots complement Parker’s unvarying tone. Construction is almost pure soulful R&B, if you can accept that description of a German avant gardist’s work.

The first CD is pretty powerful as well, with Brötzmann’s renal cry announcing his presence almost from the beginning. Taking up the first four tracks of that disc, “Never Run but Go” finds the saxman rolling forward like a tank battalion, using his slightly nasal tone and split tones to push obstacles away. Not that the bassist and drummer are obstacles. Parker’s pizzicato pulse holds the beat to the road, while Drake uses cow bell, snare and ride cymbal to roll and slide out his All-American commentary on the blitzkrieg. Throughout the Chicago-based percussionist subtly alters the tempo underneath Brötzmann’s explosions.

Listen closely as well, and you’ll hear Parker quote from “Boogie Stop Shuffle” at one point. This is appropriate, since the New York-based bassist seems to have inherited its composer, Charles Mingus’ mantle not only as a first-class bassist, but also as an organizer and bandleader.

Although the emphasis here is on the reedist’s collection of nephritic cries and intestinal tones plus Drake’s roughs and drags, nothing seems to faze the bassist. By the end of the mini-suite, using his bow, he’s managed to get the others to halve the tempo to such an extent that the piece becomes almost quiet and reverent. Then again Brötzmann squealing in tongues is as close to “Taps” as Free Jazzers can play.

If that piece is quiet than “The Heart and the Bones” almost sounds like restrained BritImprov. After introducing the theme with abrasive steel wool-like string tones, Parker stands aside for muted squeals from Brötz and hand drumming from Drake. Soon the beat turns hypnotic as the bassist begins revealing the distinctive string sounds of the Donso Ngoni or Malian hunter’s harp. The coda relates a lot more to his pinpointed strums than the reedist’s squeals.

Recorded eight months later, SHARP KNIVES is a reunion of sort for Brötzmann and the veteran alto saxist, who recorded as a duo CD in 1998. Here, as a matter of fact, they start out this disc unaccompanied, with Gjerstad playing short nervous cadenzas on clarinet, while Brötz pushes out dark-colored continuum on bass clarinet. The German continues to go south with his sound as Gjerstad moves higher until all hell breaks loose with the entry of Stroresund and Nilssen-Love, pumped as if they have to run the four-minute mile.

Like Parker on the other disc, Stroresund holds the pulse, while Nilssen-Love, who has recorded with everyone from saxists Mats Gustaffson to Ken Vandermark, relies on press rolls to keep things on an even keel. Meanwhile the two woodwind players are getting louder, biting down on their reeds and vocalizing notes in the aviary range.

Pressure cooker pulses continue to appear for the remainder of the session, with Brötz’s taragto at times adding a bit of Eastern European color to the proceedings. For his part Gjerstad often clambers up the scale, spearing high pitched notes and operating in dog whistle territory. Together, the mixture of claxon calls and growling multiphonics from the two saxists often produces something that could be the soundtrack for feeding time at a zoo filled with particularly bad-tempered carnivores.

Everything reaches a climax in the final -- and longest -- track, when chalumeau clarinet tones matched with bowed bass lines are superseded by irregular drum beats and reed expositions that vary from whines to Bronx cheers. As the drummer channels Sunny Murray on rat-tat-tat snares and echoing cymbals, Brötzmann lacerates the melody, double and triple tonguing as if he was pulling notes straight from the very marrow of the saxophone. Gjerstad responds at higher intensity and higher pitch to such an extent that the dense notes and tones are packed tighter than the passengers in a Tokyo subway. With each woodwind note seemingly bent, simultaneous rattling drum and bowing bass push the tempo faster until the tune finally ends.

What’s left behind from the sax-created ostinato however is the promise that either of these veteran saxmen could have continued to blow all night.

As Kowald’s death at 58 proved, no one lives for ever. But on the evidence of these CDs, veterans like Brötzmann -- and come to think of it Gjerstad -- appear to have plenty of spunk left in them for many years to come.

-- Ken Waxman

Personnel: Never: Peter Brötzmann (tenor saxophone, taragato, clarinet); William Parker (bass, donso ngoni); Hamid Drake (drums)

Track Listing: Never: Disc 1: 1. Never Run but Go I 2. Never Run but Go II 3. Never Run but Go III 4. Never Run but Go IV 4 5. The Heart and the Bones Disc 2: 1. Never Too Late But Always Too Early I 2. Never Too Late But Always Too Early II 3. Never Too Late But Always Too Early III 4. Half-hearted beast

Track Listing: Sharp: 1. Sharp Knives Cut Deeper Part 1 2. Sharp Knives Cut Deeper Part 2 3. Sharp Knives Cut Deeper Part 3 4. Sharp Knives Cut Deeper Part 4

Personnel: Sharp: Frode Gjerstad (alto saxophone, clarinet); Peter Brötzmann (tenor saxophone, taragato, bass clarinet); Øyvind Stroresund (bass); Paal Nilssen-Love (drums)

July 7, 2003

VARIOUS ARTISTS

Live from the Vision Festival
Thirsty Ear THI 57131.2

The next best thing to being there, this combination CD and DVD package offers a distillation of some of the outstanding performances from last year’s Vision Festival in New York’s Lower East Side. Lacking the name recognition of Newport, Montreux, or any other capitalist entity-associated international star festival, in its less than 10 year existence, Vision has still promulgated a unique artistic vision.

Built around the vision of bassist William Parker, it’s a place where pioneering avant gardists from the 1960s mix it up with younger players who are carrying on experimental ideals. It’s cross-cultural, national and international as well, with the musicians showcased on this session arriving from Germany, Korea, Philadelphia, Chicago, Boston, Minneapolis, Valencia, Calif., New Orleans… and Brooklyn,

Substantiating his ubiquity, Parker holds down the bass chair on five of the nine tracks --in five different bands, Fellow bull fiddle masters Tyrone Brown, Reggie Workman and the late Peter Kowald are represented as well.

Longest performance, at more than 11 minutes, is “Crepuscule IV in Powderhorn Park”, which reunites three founding members of Chicago’s Association for the Advancement of Creative Music who now reside in different parts of the country. Minneapolis-based Douglas Ewart shows up with his reed collection -- some of which are homemade -- to improvise with the woodwinds of Brooklyn’s Joseph Jarman. From California, Wadada Leo Smith adds his trumpet to the duo, and the three members of the front line are backed by the unbeatable rhythm section of Chicago’s Hamid Drake and Parker.

Perhaps it’s the strength of the go-for-broke rhythm of the bassist and drummer, but the performance is more convincing than some recent CDs by each of the front line partners. Expelling a mixture of gritty bluesiness and elegant, brassy grace notes, Smith states the theme, which is then elaborated by Jarman’s soprano saxophone. Using whistles and straining his notes sharply to make a point, the saxman turns rubato with a brief stop-time section, which is then echoed by Ewart’s tenor sax undertow and Parker’s perfectly proportioned bass line. Finally the three horns conclude triple forte, with Drake’s rolling roughs giving them enough leverage on which to soar.

The same rhythm team backs up tenor veterans Kidd Jordan from New Orleans and Chicago’s Fred Anderson. Each pushing 70, the extended multiphonics they propel from their horns often mix with a primeval funkiness, hinting at how Johnny Griffin and Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis might have handled Free Jazz. At a little more then four minutes though, “Spirits Came In” is barely long enough to let everyone feel the spirit.

Almost double in length, but flashing by at supersonic speeds is “Bangart 100”, performed by unconventional fiddler Billy Bang, World Saxophone Quartet anchor, baritone saxophonist Hamiet Bluiett, and contemporary composer Jin Hi Kim on Korean komungo. With his unaccompanied attack as reminiscent of hoedown as Heifetz, here Bang’s technique keeps up with his emotionalism. Working the opposite end of his horn’s palate, Bluiett ignites basement tones, altissimo wild pig squeals and growling feline feints. Keeping this all-together fingerpicking on her multi-stringed traditional instrument is Kim.

Other highlights include the definition of “Existence” provided by the duo of Dave Burrell on piano and bassist Brown. Cognizant of jazz history, like the late Jaki Byard, Philly’s piano pride mixes several of the music’s key streams on his keyboard. Initially he outputs high frequency, percussive cadenzas that are as far out as anything practiced by the New Thing, which counted Burrell as a member for his work with Archie Shepp. Later, providing fills behind Brown’s ringing tones, he shows off his lyric side that characterized him as a “song man” when he played with David Murray.

Then there’s Kowald’s stinging, more then 10½-minute solo “Improvisation”. Sometimes appearing to make his bass talk in several voices, the German maestro wraps together pizzicato buzzing strings, vocal drone and some grating, yet impressive arco thrusts into a characteristic show-stopping display.

Running down the outstanding merits of every track would be pointless, since each offers a different perspective on modern free sounds. The weakest piece, in fact, is also the first: “Truth Is Marching In”. Not the Albert Ayler standard, this reunion tune by alto saxophonist Jameel Moondoc’s Muntu quartet, featuring trumpeter Roy Campbell, drummer Rashid Bakr and bassist Parker seems, like the composition’s title, to be more caught up in New Thing revivalism than inventing the music anew. But isn’t nostalgia one construct of reunions?

Couple the more than 70½-minutes of music with the images available on the DVD and you’ll yearn to be in attendance at the Fest next time it takes place. Making light of geography, this VISION package means you can experience some of festival highlights at home.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing:1. Truth is Marching In 2. Existence 3. Bangart 100 4. Crepuscule IV in Powderhorn Park 5. Speech of Form 6. 45 Hours 7. Synchronicity 8. Sprits Came In 9. Improvisation

Personnel: 1. Muntu: Roy Campbell (trumpet); Jameel Moondoc (alto saxophone); William Parker (bass); Rashid Bakr (drums) 2. Dave Burrell (piano); Tyrone Brown (bass) 3. Hamiet Bluiett (baritone saxophone); Billy Bang (violin); Jin Hi Kim (komungo) 4. Wadada Leo Smith (trumpet); Douglas Ewart (bass clarinet, clarinet, tenor saxophone); Joseph Jarman (alto clarinet, bass clarinet, flute, bass flute, alto saxophone); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) 5. Mathew Shipp (piano); Mat Manner (viola); William Parker (bass) 6. Rob Brown (alto saxophone); Karen Borca (bassoon); Reggie Workman (bass); Newman Taylor Baker (drums) 7. Ellen Christi (vocals); Rolf Strum (guitar); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) 8. Kidd Jordan; Fred Anderson (tenor saxophones); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) 9. Peter Kowald (bass)

June 16, 2003

JAMEEL MOONDOC ALL-STARS

Live in Paris
Cadence Jazz Records CJR 1151

JAMEEL MOONDOC TENTET Live at the Vision Festival
Ayler aylCD-047

One of the most recognizable members of New York’s third generation Free Jazz players from the early 1970s to the mid-1980s, alto saxophonist Jameel Moondoc, along with associates like bassist William Parker and trumpeter Roy Campbell, was everywhere during that epoch, usually leading his own band.

Like other non-commercial players though, he seemed to vanish -- some said into architecture -- shortly afterwards. But he’s been front-and-centre and recording again since the mid-1990s. These two live CDs, made up of his composition and arrangements, show that he still surrounds himself with notable sidemen and plays firmly in the Free Jazz tradition. They also may offer hints for his hiatus.

While both are powerful, swinging freebop sessions, the reason they’re not better -- and better organized -- can only be attributed to the leader. Furthermore, in each another soloist overshadows Moondoc’s playing -- Campbell on LIVE IN PARIS, and, peculiarly enough, guitarist Bern Nix on the other CD.

Although there’s no way you wouldn’t have exceptional playing on any disc featuring Parker, Moondoc and Campbell plus tenor saxophonist Zane Massey and drummer Cody Moffett, the Paris quintet session, recorded in 1999 wears its influences on its sleeve -- or maybe CD booklet is more appropriate language.

Just look at the titles “Not Quite Ready for Prime Time”, relates to Ornette Coelman’s band of the 1980s, which incidentally employed Nix, while “One Down, One Up” recalls the John Coltrane composition of the same name. Add sounds influenced by Archie Shepp and Albert Ayler in the 1960s and 1970s and you almost know what the band is going to sound like before it plays. Additionally, with road robin solos on all of the four long pieces -- the shortest is almost 12 minutes -- you’re reminded of a jam session rather than a festival set.

Running more than 22½ minutes long, “Prime Time” has obviously been set up as a major statement and here, as elsewhere, Campbell takes charge. With the rhythm section operating on low burn in the back and the saxes alternately trilling (Moondoc) or honking (Massey), the trumpet builds up a chromatic solo filled with grace notes. Depressing his valves he uses rubato slurs and gritty buzzes to force his notes even higher, growling all the while, finally vocalizing his output in a bygone Jungle band style. With Moffett on brushes and Parker occasionally breaking up the rhythm with some bandsaw-like multi-string arco scratches, the altoist comes up with a sour-sounding output that allows him to vibrate his split tones inside his horn. That leads all the horns to combine for an adagio line that resembles one of Ayler’s nursery rhyme themes, with both reeds and the brassman sliding and slurring at the end.

“We Don’t” has the same sort of ending and a similar feeling as if Ayler’s ghost -- or maybe it’s “Ghosts” -- hangs over the proceedings. Reminiscent of those sessions the Ayler brothers did with tenor saxophonist Charles Tyler, Moondoc reverberates notes at his highest range, while the others operate as sort of a Greek chorus around him. Thing is, Campbell is a much more accomplished trumpeter than Don Ayler -- a primitive in the best sense of the word -- and his fluttering grace notes and half valve glissses add more than mere rhythm to the theme. After playing hide-and-seek with the alto man’s glossolalia, the front line ends up playing dirge-like in unison.

Massey, an on-again-off-again Campbell associate, recreates Shepp’s buzzsaw, slipping reed tone on the almost 15-minute One Down, One Up”, while Parker, a bit muffled in these live circumstances, walks the four-square beat as if he was the recently rediscovered Henry Grimes. Using triplets, Campbell again brings the most attention to himself, hitting high notes one after another, in the early Louis Armstrong if not Cat Anderson range. A foot tapper more than a New Thing screed, this one and the other tunes seem to mirror Shepp’s later days, when swing appeared to be more appealing than politics to Shepp. However on “HiRise”, Moondoc sounds like a weird combination of Charlie Parker and Coleman.

Appropriately subtitled the Jus Grew Orchestra, Moondoc’s Tentet features a rhythm section of Nix, Boston bassist John Voigt and Matthew Shipp/Tim Berne associate Gerald Cleaver on drums. Trombonist Steve Swell and Tyrone Hill, trumpeter Nathan Breedlove and baritone saxophonist Michael Marcus are on board along with Campbell and Massey.

A rough-and-ready band that sounds as if it could have use a couple more rehearsals, the versatile drummer, subtle guitarist and bottom-feeding baritone saxophone drive the performance towards the R&B heft of something like Ray Charles’ or James Brown’s early big bands.

“The Blue Dog - Blues for Earl Cross” -- named for the late New Thing trumpeter who worked with Shepp and altoist Noah Howard -- could easily have been played by a rocking large aggregation of the 1950s and 1960s. Impelled by a pedal point bottom from Voigt, who plucks with enough strength to make you think he’s playing an electric bass; a steady shuffle rhythm from Cleaver; and constant emphasis from the bari, Moondoc’s conduction here seems to take the form of vocal encouragement. Meanwhile Nix, who maintains a distinctive Freddie Green-like pulse throughout, finger picks like a jump band bluesman when he solos. His amp-buzzing chords call to mind T-Bone Walker, as elsewhere on the track one of the trombonists slurs and slides and the other double stops notes through his mute like a more restrained Quentin “Butter” Jackson. Core role is taken up by one of the trumpets -- probably Campbell -- whose growling grace notes slip up the scale and resolve themselves at times as “Rhapsody in Blue”, and other times as the sort of rubato trumpeting Marcus Belgrave would have done with the Charles band. With the brass section allayed against the reed section, you wonder if the hornmen are doing de rigeur fancy footwork as well.

“Variations of a Riff” features the entire band blowing over Marcus’ simple, repetitive vamp as one trumpeter (Campbell again?) explodes from its centre, caterwauling plunger tones as if he was Cootie Williams with his 1940s jump band. Furthermore, Massey’s solo seems to unite the honking R&B and more restrained Cool school side of Lester Young.

Running straight from its end into “Cosmic Tabernacle”, the last tune features dissonant sounding horns topped by Moondoc’s fruity alto back in Ayler’s spiritual territory again, with Cleaver’s accents suggestion African as well as African-American praise music. More sway than swing, the penultimate minutes of the piece are taken up by a cacophonous crescendo of horn licks as the rhythm section holds steady trying to pilot the ship back to A.

Moondoc’s obviously sincere efforts to find the link in between Sun Ra and James Brown is ultimately frustrated by a sloppy disconnect in the arrangements. Equally frustrating is the underutlization of Hill, a present day Arkestra sideman, and Swell, one of the most versatile ‘bone men extant. The Tentet may have “jus grew”, but organization is needed as much as expansion.

Appreciators of Moondoc’s gifts and those whose tastes run to the approachable side of Free Jazz will find much to like on these two sessions. Yet with the wealth of talents involved, it seems that so much more could have been attained.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Paris: 1. HiRise 2. Not Quite Ready for Prime Time 3. We Don’t 4.One Down, One Up

Personnel: Paris: Roy Campbell (trumpet); Jemeel Moondoc (alto saxophone); Zane Massey (tenor saxophone); William Parker (bass); Cody Moffett (drums)

Track Listing: Vision: 1. Opulent Continuum 2. The Blue Dog - Blues for Earl Cross 3. Variation of a Riff 4. Cosmic Tabernacle

Personnel: Vision: Roy Campbell, Nathan Breedlove (trumpets); Steve Swell, Tyrone Hill (trombones); Jemeel Moondoc (alto saxophone,); Zane Massey (tenor saxophone); Michael Marcus (baritone saxophone); Bern Nix (guitar); John Voigt (bass); Gerald Clever (drums)

June 3, 2003

MATTHEW SHIPP

Equilibrium
Thirsty Ear THI57127.2

MATTHEW SHIPP
Antipop Consortium Vs. Matthew Shipp
Thirsty Ear THI57120.2

When SONGS, his CD of standards came out about a year ago, it seemed that Matthew Shipp had decided to become Anthony Braxton and record his own interpretation of many traditional jazz compositions and standards.

Those presumptions have certainly gone out the window on evidence of these two CDs. One links Shipp and company with the synths and programming of FLAM; the other finds him collaborating with hip-hoppers Antipop Consortium. Judging by his simple, rhythmic playing on these sessions, however, the pianist may now be aiming to be the next Ramsey Lewis.

Although Shipp says that EQUILIBRIUM’s goal is to explore beat elements with modern jazz, yet, except for a couple of anomalies, the modern jazz referenced on these nine numbers seems to be the overproduced jazz-rock of CTI and Philly International. Of course, co-producers Shipp and FLAM, who also is in charge of synthesizers and programming on the disc, may have set a certain standard by procuring these overprocessed sounds from only three other musicians beside themselves. They are longtime Shipp associate bassist William Parker, Detroit drummer Gerald Cleaver and Philadelphia vibaharpist Khan Jamal.

Jamal, who has recorded with exploratory musicians like saxophonists Byard Lancaster and Charles Tyler, suffers the most from this wall-of-sound since he records so infrequently. His full-bodied, bar-ringing style extends the Milt Jackson-Bobby Hutcherson tradition. But here and, unfortunately even more so on ANTIPOP CONSORTIUM, his multi-shaded tone is squeezed into creating the sort of underdeveloped vamps Dave Samuels used with fuzak band Spyro Gyra.

For instance, “Cohesion”, the longest track here at a shade over 6½ minutes, is a groove tune in the lineage of “Pick Up the Pieces”. Built on a steady 4/4 pulse it only escapes from its foot tapping origins when Cleaver, who has played with altoist Tim Berne and bassist Mark Helias indulges himself in a vague Afro-Cuban beat, and Parker buzzes his bass strings in sympathy. The track fades as the bass solo begins, though. Khan is reduced to hitting his vibes in concert with a scratching, repetitive synth program. Meanwhile, after Shipp plays a descending melody line, the pianist concentrates on the same pattern, sounding like Lewis playing on his version of “Maiden Voyage”. There isn’t much need for release here, since there isn’t much tension in the performance. Furthermore, Shipp’s arpeggio-rich romantic treatment of “World of Blue Glass” reduces the bassist and drummer to mere accompaniment, with the vibist not even on the track.

Everyone fares a bit better on “The Key”. Parker’s powerful, dark lines sound out the theme; Cleaver breaks up the metronomic beat and Jamal varies the groove enough to shape out a ringing Jackson-shaded lead line. Later, his exciting, multi-mallet solo is extended with proper programming to resonate longer and louder, an example of how dial twiddling should work.

FLAM is likely also responsible for desert landscape imagery that morphs out of unidentified tones and textures from the piano on “Nu Matrix”. With keyboard strings seemingly plucked like a guitar’s and otherworldly cadenzas bubbling up from an oasis of sound, there’s even room for a few slices of vibes motion. Still the uneasy feeling exists that this and some other tunes were pieced together in the studio rather than played live. Tracks that are faded before they end add to the suspicion.

If EQUILIBRIUM sound like what would happen if a 21st Century Modern Jazz Quartet was programmed with James Brown samples, then ANTIPOP CONSORTIUM brings to mind those mid-1960s Phil Spector productions where major jazzmen trooped into the studio to back up anonymous singers.

The CD, which is also being released as a limited edition LP, may be set up as Antipop vs. Matthew Shipp, but the pianist and his associates do more accompanying than opposing. It’s also supposed to mix beats, hip-hop, free jazz and electronic music according to the promo bumf. Well three outa four ain’t bad, but no prizes for guessing which element is almost ignored.

Throughout, the Antipop duo are upfront with its mixture of programmed synths and raps. Vocalized by one and echoed by the other, the lyrics seem to concern themselves with a so-called urban take on love and life, lightly rhymed and stating the obvious. At least that happens when the words can be discerned.

There doesn’t appear to be much interaction with the instrumentalists either. At one point on “Slow Horn” for instance, the vocalist (sic) states: “Think there would be some angry listeners if we had some vocals over this, very powerful music here”. Then he proceeds to do just that. Naturally, like those lightweight pop songs which claim to celebrate rock music with lyrics like “long live rock’n’roll”, the words of this tune praise the very “powerful music” which the singer’s’ rap is blocking.

“Monstro City” sounds as if it migrated from a 1950s jazz’n’poetry session -- if the lyrical content could pass for poetry. Drummer Guillermo E. Brown, with Shipp and Parker a member of saxist David S. Ware’s quartet, provides the proper bongo-drum type of rhythms, Parker creates a scene-stealing, powerful walking bass section and Shipp provides the piano fills. The fake synthesizer strings are more modern though. Well, as up to date as studio sounds circa 1977, that is.

Stream-of-consciousness lyrics with high school (!) references figure in “Staph”, a real hand clapper which appears to allow Shipp to quote from “Hang on Sloppy”, another Ramsey Lewis hit. “All Blues” does figure in his solo on “A Knot In Your Bop”, perhaps as a nod to Miles Davis’ electric style that prefigured much of this pop-jazz mixing.

Between the synthesizer scratching and pounding drums, the odd bass exchange or vibes line can be heard. In truth, about the only time the “modern jazz” part of the equation comes to the fore is on (no surprise) the final track.

Here Shipp digs into the keyboard to provide some two-handed, swinging bop-

inflected notes, Brown’s sizzle cymbal and Parker’s solid time keeping centre the beat and Jamal’s metal bars fairly jump with a slashing, multi-mallet attacks. Multi-instrumentalist Daniel Carter makes his first -- at least first audible -- contribution as well playing trumpet, swimming out of the mix to shape some electric Miles-era brass flourishes. At the very end though, following some brisk drumbeats and the slash of synthesizer chords Carter smears out a very odd-sounding trumpet coda. Could that be a comment on the proceedings?

Should you be an Antipop Consortium fan or a Matthew Shipp completist you’ll probably want these discs. Others may be more wary. Maybe the mix the pianist is aiming for will bear more impressive fruit next time out.

At least when looking for soul-jazz pianists to emulate Shipp didn’t choose Les McCann. If he did, he’d likely be singing as well as playing by now. Perhaps that frightening aural image should be held until other discs in this series appear.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Equilibrium: 1. Equilibrium 2. Vamp to Vibe 3. Nebula Theory 4. Cohesion 5. World of Blue Glass 6. Portal 7. The Root 8. The Key 9. Nu Matrix

Personnel: Equilibrium: Matthew Shipp (piano); Khan Jamal (vibes); William Parker (bass); Gerald Cleaver (drums); Chris Flam (synthesizers and programming)

Track Listing: Antipop: 1. Places I’ve Never Been 2. Staph 3. Slow Horn 4. A Knot In Your Bop 5. SVP 6. Coda 7. Stream Light 8. Monstro City 9. Reel Is Surreal 10. Free Hop

Personnel: Antipop: Daniel Carter (trumpet); Matthew Shipp (piano); Khan Jamal (vibes); William Parker (bass); Guillermo E. Brown (drums); Antipop Consortium [Priest and Beans] (vocals, synthesizers and programming)

April 28, 2003

GARY LUCAS/JOZEF VAN WISSEM

Diplopia
BVHaast 0103

WILLIAM PARKER/JOE MORRIS/HAMID DRAKE Eloping With The Sun
RITI CD 007

String-driven, these CDs work with the idea of adapting traditional plucked instruments to new roles, new sounds and unusual additions. Thus, on one disc, the country bluesman’s favorite National steel guitar and the Renaissance minstrel’s lute are mixed with electronics and percussion for futuristic versions of 16th century airs. On the other, three free jazzers use instruments rescued from the stringband and world music ghettos to create some highly rhythmic improvised sounds.

A follow-up of sorts to NARCISSUS DROWNING, Dutch lutanist Jozef Van Wissem last CD which featured downtown New York guitarist Gary Lucas on three tracks, this short (31½-minute) disc has Lucas on board for all nine tracks.

Designated as DIPLOPIA or double image, the idea seems to be that Lucas’s National steel and acoustic guitars complement Van Wissem’s lute and electronics so well that they seem to be joined at the frets. Indeed on the seven songs -- two appear both in studio and live versions -- the duo seems to be extending the fingerpicking instrumental tradition of John Fahey and Leo Kottke. Most tunes find the lutanist advancing the sounds, which range from near gavottes to Renaissance processional themes to something that sounds suspiciously like “Ode to Joy”, with passing chords tossed out to the guitarist. The crash of percussion and suggestions of droning electronics further dislocate the melodies from four centuries-old histories.

For the most part eschewing strumming folkie accompaniment, Lucas either constructs underlying flat-picking as a continuum or uses the sort of lancet-sharp whine Bukka White or Son House could draw from their strings to comment on the proceedings. Operating in tandem or counterpoint, the two pickers often pass floating motifs back and forth, but with a single exception, have stalled the presentation on virtuosity rather than resolution.

Although it’s just as pleasant as the duo’s previous CD, DIPLOPIA is also very similar sounding. Unless some fresh input is added to their sound, the two may find themselves trapped in a medieval ghetto waiting for a musical Renaissance.

One tune, “The Mirror Stage” does offer some hope for a rebirth, though, with the allusion to sprightly Aegean dance music tossed into the mix. Interestingly enough it’s the same sort of Greco-Turkish rhythm that enlivens some of the sounds on ELOPING WITH THE SUN.

On the final and penultimate tunes of that session, for instance, the trio appears to lock into suggestions of Greek Rebetika music, harsh, urban dance rhythms played by violin, guitar oud, cenbalo and lyre. Those ethnic axes aren’t in evidence, but the three musicians are playing what is for them unusual instruments. Bassist William Parker keeps the hypnotic beat going with the zintir, a Moroccan bass lute usually associated with Gnawa music. Drum kit master Hamid Drake confines himself to creating counter rhythms on a frame drum that looks like a giant tambourine. And Joe Morris puts aside his guitar to play banjo and ukulele hybrid, the banjouke.

“Stepdance” features those Greco-Turkish suggestions unrolling over the sort of repeated bass patterns popular in Africentric jazz-funk of the 1970s and, to be honest, the Newbeats’ hit “Bread and Butter”. Drake bangs his hand drum and Morris introduces some flailing commentary with his banjo.

Gus Cannon-like chromatic blues banjo comes to the fore on “Dream”, as Drake and Parker are able to use their acoustic instruments to lock into a repetitive groove as if they were the electric bassist and drummer in a crack rhythm team from the golden age of Motown. Probably switching to the banjouke, Morris alternates the Rebetika echoes with first speedy finger picking then slurred fingering with an eccentric choice of notes.

Earlier there have been sections where it has sounded as if some Scruggs-style bluegrass banjo picking had been mixing it up with African and Middle Eastern drones. That’s because Drake seems to be able to produce snare and bass drum sounds from his one percussion implement. “Hop-kin”, the longest tune at nearly 17 minutes, finds clawhammer banjo licks facing what could be a walking jazz bass and Native American tom toms at one point. Another section turns vaguely North Indian, with the strings and percussion instruments implying the sounds of a sarod and a tabla. Wonder if Old Joe Clark ever met Ravi Shankar? Meanwhile, as Morris’s decorations on the basic tune ascends and descends the chord structure, Parker’s finger patterns don’t slacken in intensity.

An interesting experiment, this CD would probably have been better if it was one long, but more condensed track, rather than one divided into five shorter parts. It’s a disc that will be sought out by followers of any of these experimenters to see how they transfer their unique technique(s) to other instruments. Whether this total instrumental cross-dressing should be tried again may be open to argument.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Diplopia: 1. Sick 2. If it doesn’t fit, thou must acquit 3. For whom the bell tolls 4. Will o’ the Wisp 5. Diplopia 6. The Mirror Stage 7. Brethren of the Free Spirit 8. If it doesn’t fit, thou must acquit (live) 9. The Mirror Stage (live)

Personnel: Diplopia: Gary Lucas (National steel and acoustic guitars); Jozef Van Wissem (10-course Renaissance lute, electronics, percussion)

Track Listing: Eloping: 1. Sand Choir 2. Dawn Son 3. Hop-Kin 4. Stepdance 5. Dream

Personnel: Eloping: Joe Morris (banjo and banjouke); William Parker (zintir); Hamid Drake (frame drum)

April 14, 2003

DAVID S. WARE

Freedom Suite
AUM Fidelity AUM 023

Performing and recording the music of another innovator is probably the most profound challenge a jazzman can face. Especially difficult is reinterpreting a piece that brings forth memories of the originator every time it’s played; and this predicament doubles when the piece involved is programmatic, rather than just one tune.

Through careful planning and -- to be honest -- luck, tenor saxophonist David S. Ware and his quartet have avoided these pitfalls with their version of Sonny Rollins’ FREEDOM SUITE, originally done in 1958. For a start, unlike Miles Davis, John Coltrane and Thelonious Monk -- to name three other jazz stars whose works are constantly being recast -- no one else has tried to take on Rollins’ masterwork. Additionally, although the piece itself presaged a group of equally important thematic Pan African and Black Nationalist compositions by Max Roach -- who also played on the disc -- Charles Mingus and Coltrane, the suite itself is mostly based on tone and dynamic variations, rather than definitive motifs.

By more than doubling its length to 39:24 minutes from 19:29 minutes and dividing it into four parts, the Ware quartet can then construct its variations on the major theme and go on from there to give it an individual reading. Especially salutary is the blustering tone of Ware, who was not only influenced by Rollins, but over the years has counted the older saxophonist as a mentor. He, bassist William Parker and pianist Matthew Shipp has been together for more than a decade, so their close rapport and intuitive support are even more pronounced then the interaction in Rollins’ pick up group of 1958.

In truth, as well, Parker, whose rooted time keeping and innovatory arco and pizzicato is used to good effect here, is probably an even better bassist than early bopper Oscar Pettiford who recorded on the original LP. At the same time, Shipp, who has no role model to fall back on, creates a new, dramatic part for himself, full of obbligatos, low frequencies and lots of left hand action. Only young drummer Guillermo E. Brown suffers in comparison to Roach -- who wouldn’t -- but except for some polyrhythms in the third section, he mostly limits himself to cymbal shimmers, press rolls and general accompaniment.

More ferocious in his output than Rollins was in his day, Ware’s blurred growls and buzz tones are a less conventional response to the material. But his embellishments add R&B shouting rather than the sort of extended technique that is Ware’s usual stock in trade. It’s noteworthy too that in the second section, the pianist’s andante syncopation have a Wynton Kelly cast to them and are actually the equivalent in this version to the sort of chording the later provided on 1950s and 1960s sessions. That section ends with an extended sprayed cadenza from the saxist, culminating in a fog horn cry over top of pedal-point arco ostinato from the bassist.

Moving between modal accompaniment and a version of a classical fantasia with a gentle touch, Shipp sometimes reprises the theme, but usually lets Ware build the connective tissue. Ultimately it’s the saxophonist who introduces the thematic resolution on the final track. But he does so through variations without explicitly stating the theme. Meanwhile Shipp reintroduces right-handed tremolos that serve as his version of hard- bop comping, as Parker’s tone constantly shifts and convenes any errant music. In conclusion, Ware advances a triumphant run through of the main theme using the same harsh, distinctive intonation with which he began the suite, and everyone gets in a lick or two before the end.

If there’s any downside to the quartet’s triumphal run through of this composition, is that it may encourage others with less acumen to follow suit and unsuccessfully take on other modern jazz classics. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but this FREEDOM SUITE can stand with the original through transmogrification.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Freedom Suite 1 2. Freedom Suite 2 3. Freedom Suite 3 4. Freedom Suite 4

Personnel: David S. Ware (tenor saxophone); Mathew Shipp (piano); William Parker (bass); Guillermo E. Brown (drums)

March 3, 2003

MANERI ENSEMBLE

Going To Church
AUM Fidelity AUM 024

MAT MANERI
Sustain
Thirsty Ear THI 57122.2

Substantial slices of Maneri music, these two new CDs prove that while violist Mat Manner has internalized the quirky cogitation and execution of his father, reedist Joe Maneri, he’s not adverse to testing out some ideas of his own in different contexts.

Father-son improvisers are nothing new on the jazz scene and have ranged from boogie-woogie pianist Albert Ammons and his funky tenor saxophonist son Gene Ammons to mainstream pianist Ellis Marsalis and his progeny. But few offspring are as inculcated in his father’s music, as Mat -- born in 1969 -- who began playing music with his father when he was only seven. It’s hardly necessary to point out that Joe -- born in 1927 -- was no mainstream Marsalis. A jobbing musician for years with an interest in ethnic, microtonal and 12-tone composition as well as jazz improvisation, his talent finally got him a gig teaching theory and composition at Boston’s New England Conservatory in 1970. But his single-mindedness left him unrecorded until his belated emergence in the mid-1990s.

Initially, and probably still, a member of most of his father’s Massachusetts-centred bands, Mat moved to New York by the late 1990s and deepened his relationship with likes of pianist Mathew Shipp, bassist William Parker and guitarist Joe Morris among others.

Here, although the two CDs initially sound similar, the differences are apparent on close listening. CHURCH is almost classical in its instrumentation and orientation, while the use of electric keyboards and a domineering bassist and drummer makes SUSTAIN more tonally dense.

Secularists shouldn’t be frightened by the title on the Maneri Ensemble’s CD, by the way. No one sings any hymns or passes the collection plate. Some improvisers have said that “jazz is my religion”, and the house of worship here is a similar structure to the devotional space players like Frank Wright, John Coltrane and Albert Ayler aspired to and often inhabited.

Unlike those frenzied, ecstatic players, however, the elder Maneri’s worship is done in the context of restrained chamber improv, with even the drummer’s contribution -- from longtime Maneri associate Randy Peterson -- characterized by irregular pulses, unobtrusive rhythms and a quill-like gliding touch.

At more than 31½ minutes, “Blood and Body”, the first track, is obviously the central offering at this free jazz altar. Chief priest Joe Maneri directs the liturgy with his collection of sacred objects -- the clarinet, alto and tenor saxophone. Omitting pious solemnity, the reedist elaborates the theme at different times, keeping the congregation in the same place in the hymnbook with off-centre, elongated trills and guttural smears. At points he begins his sermons in the chalumeau register than, as he feels the spirit, raises his voice ‘way past coloratura and into squeaks, screeches and begins almost speaking in tongues.

Moving from half-valve notes to the top of his horn’s range, trumpeter Roy Campbell sometime exhibits his plunger tone as the best way to illuminate a counter motif parable. The percussionist provides some ride cymbal and ratamacue accompaniment. Meanwhile bassist Barre Phillips, a habituated true believer from his days 40 years ago with clarinetist Jimmy Giuffre up to his recent collaboration with saxist Evan Parker, sometimes allows himself the suggestion of walking bass. More frequently, though, his benediction involves guitar-like strums from the top of his strings or genuflecting arco devotion. Since the stately procession is andante most of the time, pianist Mathew Shipp’s right hand is often raised from tinkling his keys, when he isn’t suggesting a spinet’s tone or producing heartfelt ecclesiastical chords.

As for the son, his interaction with his father occurs most often with multiple forays from his five or six-string violas. His arco innovations encompass triple stopping and portamento, though at times, father and son become one as his tone merges with serpentine alto saxophone split tones. These appear to inhabit the atmosphere midway between the creations of Eric Dolphy and a viola’s singular tone.

Both remaining tunes build on the scripture articulated on “Blood and Body”. There are more Gabriel-like brass blasts from Campbell, sacramental funeral march note displays from Shipp, multiple string exposure from Phillips and the younger Maneri and pure-toned hisses and dissonant colored noises from Maneri senior, as his smearing vibrato gathers the musical supplicants together for devotion.

If two figures from the blessed Trinity are present on GOING TO CHURCH, then SUSTAIN may be said to introduce the third, the Holy Ghost, in the person of soprano saxophonist Joe McPhee.

Avoiding blasphemy, it should be noted that at 63 McPhee is old enough to have interacted with the high priests of Energy Music such as Coltrane, Ayler and Ornette Coleman. But over the years his improvising has gone from Old Testament fire-and-brimstone to the understated New Testament sound he exhibits here.

Featuring beside McPhee and the son an entirely new set of converts, this CD features four major tracks plus five tunes titled with some variation of “Alone” that are example of solo prayers. The soprano saxist, for instance, showcases forward moving legato lines that range between glottal interior horn sounds and circular breathing exercises. On his own, drummer Gerald Cleaver, whose past associates have included saxophonist Roscoe Mitchell and bassist Mark Helias, creates electronic sounding percussion sounds reminiscent of the early work of Brits Paul Lytton and Tony Oxley.

Secularism is represented here by the shimmering wah-wah keyboard excursions of Craig Taborn, who often plays with altoist Tim Berne. Avoiding Herbie Hancock-like, 1970s-style electric piano wiggles his refractive tones blend well with McPhee’s soprano. On acoustic piano though, his touch relates back to Thelonious Monk. However at one point on “Nerve”, someone, either Taborn or triple-stopping Maneri creates a constant, angled tone that seems to come straight from the mixing board, bringing with it early fusion memories of Mahavishnu’s Jerry Goodman or the Fourth Way’s Michael White. Cleaver’s polyrhythmic beat is many steps ahead of what those bands produced however, while McPhee’s pitch sliding and the frantic, nearly atonal skittering from Taborn’s keyboards proves that nothing here is an exercise in nostalgia.

Similarly no one would confuse William Parker’s deep-bottomed acoustic bass with that from a whiny electric model. Sometimes sounding as if he’s working in two clefs simultaneously, he uses his fingers to blend rhythmically with the drums and keyboards at times, or his bow to expand the string section with Maneri elsewhere.

Examined carefully, the CD is a polyphonic house of mirrors. It’s animated with sounds that encompass everything from what appears to be PVC pipe echoes, irregular drum shards, the rubbing and drone of the electric keyboard and massed strings. It’s also as much of a secular triumph for the younger Maneri as the other CD confirms the jubilant spirituality of his father.

-- Ken Waxman

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

Track Listing: Going: 1. Blood and Body 2. Before the Sermon 3. Going To Church

Personnel: Going: Roy Campbell (trumpet); Joe Maneri (alto and tenor saxophones, clarinet); Mat Maneri (viola); Matthew Shipp (piano); Barre Phillips (bass); Randy Peterson (drums)

Track Listing: Sustain: 1. Alone (Origin) 2. In Peace 3. Alone (Construct) 4. Sustain 5. Alone (Unravel) 6. Nerve 7. Alone (Cleanse) 8. Divine 9. Alone (Mourn)

Personnel: Sustain: Joe McPhee (soprano saxophone); Mat Maneri (violas); Craig Taborn (keyboards); William Parker (bass); Gerald Cleaver (drums)

January 22, 2003

WILLIAM PARKER

WILLIAM PARKER … And William Danced
AYLER aylCD-044

JEMEEL MOONDOC
Live at Glenn Miller Café Vol. 1
AYLER aylCD-026

True, exceptional, improvised music depends on particular circumstances to be actualized. Mood, time, location and acquaintance are capable of altering the equation to such an extent that two sessions recorded hours apart can be vastly different.

That’s what happened with these two CDs, both of which feature bassist William Parker and drummer Hamid Drake. LIVE was recorded one night at Stockholm’s Glenn Miller Café by the two, plus their regular playing partners, alto saxophonist Jemeel Moondoc. The result is a representative hour of high class, New York-based free improv sound. Earlier that day Parker and Drake, met and played for the first time with veteran Swedish alto saxophonist Anders Gahnold, who isn’t even that well known in his homeland. Touchingly, the ensuing studio-recorded 66 minutes, offers up a slice of free improv at its finest.

Obviously the novelty of the arrangement, time of the day, circumstances of the meeting, or to use a 1960s word, the vibes, were in alignment at that time. Gahnold, was for eight years until the 1986 death of bassist Johnny Dyani, part of a European avant trio with Dyani and the bass man’s fellow South African, drummer Gilbert Matthews. Today he works as an electronic engineer for a large Swedish high tech firm. Perhaps understandably, given improv’s low media profile, the saxophonist had literally never even heard of Drake and Parker before he met them at the session.

Thrown together, though, the three soon make a rapprochement, with each subsequent improvisation longer than the one that proceeded it, and with the boiling point reached on the title tune, at more than 30 minutes, LP-length itself.

More a finger-snapping freebop number than a true avant garde vehicle, Gahnold’s edgy, piercing tone is reminiscent of Jackie McLean or Sonny Rollins in their 1960s New Thing-flirting days. A foot on the floor, plowing ahead, the saxman eventually begins double timing with a pronounced burr in his delivery. Ultimately, after he stops spinning out longer phrases, Gahnold makes his sound even sharper and higher-pitched, using multiphonics to construct variations on the changes, and changes on the variations. He doesn’t so much stop playing at the end, but grounds to a halt, as if he’s ready to start again on a moment’s notice.

Contrary to the title, the only dancing Parker does is with his fingers, but he shapes identical notes over and over again, creating melodies and counter melodies, playing one phrase on a string and then echoing it with another. One technique used is to produce a buzz as a string is loosened, finally returning to foursquare rhythm and speeding up the attack. Sizzles from Drake’s cymbals worry an off-kilter beat as all this is going on until he too turns boppish, bending bass drum pedal work, cross sticking and press rolls to fit the role. Someone (Drake?) even yells out “yeah” -- the distinctive call of the hipster.

The other two tunes are no less exciting, with the second grotesquely named by the actions of the studio owner’s next door neighbor. When the trio began playing the fellow complained that the music was disturbing his customers, though he runs an undertaker’s parlor. Thus “The Undertaker’s Dance”.

On both, as Gahnold’s jagged alto sax slips in and out of key, creating gritty, stairstep arpeggios Drake and Parker lay down a groove. Manfully pulling on the strings, Parker comes up with a nearly endless bluesy vamp that speeds up and slows down as it herds the others from one tempo to another. Using his palms, sticks and brushes, Drake rollicks around the bassist’s centre point with his snares and toms as the alto saxophonist trills staccato notes, which touches of an outside Charles Lloyd.

During the course of the session, it’s reported, the musicians hardly talked to one another, they just played, without bothering about titles and time signatures. Would that had happened with Moondoc that same night. If the Swede and two Americans were like a trio of John Waynes, the American altoist, who has been a Parker associate for more than 20 years, comes on like Robin Williams.

Musing about the history of the saxophone on “Blues From (sic) My People”, Moondoc mires himself in an extended rap about marching bands, saxophone inventor Adolphe Sax, legendary tenorman Coleman Hawkins who “reinvented the sax” and how he doesn’t take requests, even from family members.

This may have been diverting in a club, but when he finally starts playing “Blues”, which isn’t really a blues, it’s up to Parker and Drake to guide Moondoc’s strident tone into melding with their never less-than-professional work. The drummer unveils many press rolls, rim shots and hi hat cymbal splatters, after the bassist sounds out one of his characteristic deep, dark bass explorations.

Unfortunately, with both numbers clocking in at either side of 30 minutes, there’s too much round robin soloing. Often flashing by at supersonic speeds, you can note Parker snapping his strings as he illuminates both the high and low parts of his axe and, at times, he seems to be playing duets with himself. Hard and fast, Drake appears to be in a bop mode, with much emphasis on bass pedal and sizzle cymbal. Notwithstanding both men trading fours with the altoist at different times, on his own Moondoc appears to have no on/off switch, often worrying a riff over and over and over again.

Those who follow the careers of the American trio members will be most interested in the second disc. But be forewarned that it’s a standard club set where flashes of brilliance vie with banality. The first disc with Gahnold is a find, though. More discs featuring him -- new or reissues -- will be anticipated.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: … And: 1. First Dance 2. The Undertaker’s Dance 3. … and William Danced

Personnel: … And: Anders Gahnold (alto saxophone); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums)

Track Listing: Live: 1. Hi Rise 2. Blues From My People

Personnel: Live: Jemeel Moondoc (alto saxophone); Parker (bass); Drake (drums)

September 23, 2002

CARTER/CORIO/STARK/BAILEY

Don’t Get Me Started
Rent Control Records rcrcd 005

FREEDOMLAND
Amusement Park
Rent Control Records rcrcd 006

Veteran followers of the Manhattan sub section the of free jazz scene may be surprised by the comparison of the music on these two discs -- or perhaps they won’t. For the exciting sounds of DON’T GET ME STARTED are as interesting and accomplished as those on FREEDOMLAND.

Yet the quintet represented on DON’T includes only one veteran free jazz master -- multi-instrumentalist Daniel Carter. However included among the five musicians on AMUSEMENT are not only veterans Carter and composer/bassist William Parker, but also three others whose tenure in the Lower East Side jazz gestalt goes back to the early 1990s.

Measuring the work of soprano saxophonist Jeremy Stark, bassist Elias Bailey and drummer Paul Corio, against that the musicians on AMUSEMENT confirms that another new generation of free players has arrived on the scene. Considering that this sort of non-figurative music was written off by conservatives as noise 40 years ago and still regarded as the equivalent of skunk odor by the rapidly aging Young Lions, its resilience is confirmed here.

The most recent CDs from Rent Control, Corio’s burn-it-yourself label, AMUSEMENT is a warts-and-all record of a gig earlier this year by a bottom-heavy quartet. With Dave Hofstra, who has been in such varied associations as Metropolitan Klezmer, New York Composers Orchestra and Parker’s Little Huey Creative Music Orchestra (LHCMO) switching between tuba and bass saxophone; Parker making himself heard on tuba or bass, and Dave Sewelson, a former member of the legendary 1980s band, the Microscopic Septet and a LHCMO veteran, sometimes on alto, but mostly on baritone, it’s the rehearsal room of instruments played by Carter, whose experience encompasses membership in such groundbreaking ensembles as TEST and Other Dimensions In Music that provides the contrast. Plus, with the disc made up of only two improvisations, clocking in at almost 28 minutes and almost 35 (!) minutes each, everyone’s technique is nakedly displayed.

In truth, of the two tunes, “New Brass Miasma” seems to fare better, though, considering the CD was recorded live at -- of all places -- CBGB’s as part of a series curated by Freedomland member and former drummer for No Wave pioneers The Bush Tetras, Dee Pop, there are still some murky and muffled passages.

Enlivened by traffic jam horn sounds and undersurface exchanges between the tuba and baritone that resemble a territorial squabble between a hippo and a rhino, the composition ends up being reminiscent of Charles Mingus’ “A Foggy Day (in San Francisco)” as well as straightforward 1960s Energy music. Using only a bit of hyperbole, Parker is Mingus’ direct heir as a composer, bassist and organizer, and his substantial pizzicato lope is what keeps the cacophonous lines contributed by the others from swerving off into atonal incomprehension.

If the tubas, baritone and bass saxophones are the equivalents of thick-skinned mammals, then Carter’s darting alto saxophone is the cavorting crow that elaborates countermelodies when the head is taken up by one of the lumbering beasts. At one point he adds a phrase very reminiscent of “Get Happy” to break up the blended and extended subterranean horn sounds and moves the melody along more quickly.

Ranging between his nearly vibrato-less flute tone and his hard bop-inflected trumpet blasts, Carter also gooses up the slow beginning of “Community Meeting at the Chicken Shack”. Hofstra is then able to manipulate the foghorn tone of his tuba with the facility of a bass trombone, combining it with the steady pumping of a baritone to produce a feeling of almost motionless weight. Entwined trumpet and alto saxophone lines add some musical flexibility, as does the bass (finally) heard going mano-a-mano with the tuba. Speeding up the tempo to a sort of freeform boogaloo, means that the alto can dance on top of the beat, and that Pop’s shuffle rhythm on toms and snare, impels the bass and baritone to honk like a James Brown horn section. Finally the melody resolves itself with a spray of high and low brass notes.

Stark and Corio acceptance as full-fledged members of the improv community arrives on DON’T. Though the disc too is a testament to the modesty of Carter, who although he was part of the free-form Music Ensemble with violinist Billy Bang and Parker as long ago as 1974, is unassuming enough to ally himself with this band of tyros who only began investigating pure improv in the late 1990s, after meeting at a jazz workshop.

On this CD the studio sonics clearly pick up the mewling sonorities of Carter’s saxophones that often mix with the almost Middle Eastern tone of Stark’s soprano, until they snake around one another in a symbiotic auditory dance. If one heads into bird-whistle territory the other will follow. However, should the tenor man produce a deep, honky-tonk barroom swagger, then the soprano saxophonist snaps off brief slap-tongued missals. Occasionally, too, both will converge to produce a sound that approximates that of a reedy harmonium.

Bailey, who has toured with vocalist Renee Marie, maintains an unvarying bass ostinato, while New Yorker Corio, who began his musical explorations after uniting with Seattle-born Stark, uses bass effects, flams and press rolls plus some relaxed brush work to give the proceedings a particular hue. The drummer concentrates on stick upon stick timbres on “Bastinado”, which may have received its odd title from the definition of a blow with a stick on the soles of the feet. Did the band define this track as a torture because the traditionalists couldn’t tap their feet to it?

For all the praiseworthy work done throughout, respect for elders must sometimes be observed, most notably on “Ochlocracy”. During the penultimate section, Carter, on tenor saxophone and backed only by the bass, exposes his balladic heart in a vaporous solo worthy of 1950s Sonny Rollins or, surprisngly, traditional bopper Hank Mobley.

Carter has proven himself in many other contexts and it would be interesting some time in the future to hear all the band members work out on more focused tunes with tighter heads. Earlier efforts by the soprano saxophonist and drummer -- MARCH OF THE RED GUARD (Rent Control Records rcrcd 001), THE TESLA INVENTION (Rent Control Records rcrcd 002) and WHO KILLED THE PORK CHOPS? (Rent Control Records rcrcd 004) the last two of which also feature trumpeter Andrew Paulsen, do some of that. The brassman’s habit of mixing fanfares with dirty growls; Stark’s fluid tone that varies between an almost-legit, clarinet-like style and reed-biting that explodes into white noises; plus Corio’s cross-sticking and cymbal shimmers allows them to overcome the lack of a chordal instrument as do frequent call-and-response sections. But despite the focus of these collective improvisations, they’re still student studies that merely suggest the saxman and percussionist’s growing musical sophistication.

Since the most recent sessions on Rent Control present an unfettered aural glimpse at some veterans in an unstructured situation and a comparative CD of younger players’ rapidly ripening ideas, who knows what additional highlights, available by e-mailing www.rentcontrolrecords.com, will come out of he CD burner in the near future?

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Don’t: 1. Ochlocracy 2. Don’t Get Me Started 3. And Another Thing 4. Bastinado

Personnel: Don’t: Daniel Carter (trumpet, alto and tenor saxophones, clarinet, flute); Jeremy Stark (soprano saxophone); Elias Bailey (bass); Paul Corio (drums)

Track Listing: Freedomland: 1. Community Meeting at the Chicken Shack 2. New Brass Miasma

Personnel: Freedomland: Daniel Carter (trumpet, alto and tenor saxophones, clarinet, flute); Dave Sewelson (alto and baritone saxophones); Dave Hofstra (tuba, bass saxophone); William Parker (bass, tuba); Dee Pop (drums)

July 27, 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

ALAN SILVA/KIDD JORDAN/WILLIAM PARKER

Emancipation Suite #1
Boxholder 023

Dedicated to a Russian inventor/musician (Leon Theremin), an American theorist/composer (George Russell) and a Saturnian who combined these characteristics and many others (Sun Ra) this CD is a sprawling, nearly 57½ minute symphonic performance created by only three improvisers.

It can still be described as symphonic, however because Alan Silva, the American bass player, long-time European expatriate and Free Jazz pioneer, does his work on what he terms the orchestra synthesizer. That too is more than hyperbole as well. For in contrast to many other operatives -- especially in rock -- who employ Robert Moog’s invention for little more than beats and color, Silva takes full advantage of its polyphonic counterpoint. Not surprising for someone who worked with large scale visionaries like Ra and Cecil Taylor, he uses the instrument’s capacity for dynamics and sound separation to its utmost, conjuring up sets and subsets of percussion, horn and string sounds.

One of his partners on this set of unbroken improvisations from 1999’s Vision Festival in New York is Edward “Kidd” Jordan, a tenor saxophonist who almost single-handedly makes up the free improv scene in New Orleans. Woefully underrecorded until recently, Jordan is another stay-at-home pedagogue and sax master like Chicago’s Fred Anderson or Detroit’s Faruq Z. Bey. Someone who has introduced his own variation on the reed legacy of John Coltrane, he’s in fine fettle on the suite’s many sequences, given titles on the disc for easy reference.

Third participant is bassist William Parker, one of the chief organizers and cheerleaders for Manhattan’s Lower East Side scene, who has probably been as well documented on record, as Jordan has been ignored. His presence exposes the session’s one major drawback though.

Because the suite was recorded live, the power and volume of the synthesizer overwhelms Parker’s sound. So most of the time all that you hear is Jordan expending his ingenuity and energy to play over Silva’s orchestral accompaniment. His strengths coupled with the sonic variations that arise from Silva’s instrument often make the endproduct resemble one of those and energy-saxist-meets-big-band date from the 1970s, like Gato Barbieri with the Jazz Composer's Orchestra, Peter Brötzmann with Globe Unity or John Gilmore with the Arkestra.

Although Silva’s booming, cavernous tones sometimes appear to be even louder than that produced by a conventional band, on “Deliverance” you can still hear Jordan pressing on unperturbed, producing elongated notes, first in a moderated mid-range, then deep from resonant baritone tones, than blasting up into freak altissimo. Although the visual image you get is that of an unarmed bicyclist facing a gigantic army tank in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square, the interplay is a lot more benign than that. Plus, while the two often get louder and wilder, as the created colors take up more aural space, Silva is obviously commenting on what the saxophonist is playing.

The audience participates too, bursting into spontaneous applause when Jordan introduces phrases from Trane’s “Sun Ship” into his solo. Also, Silva does moderate his barrage at times, using his string setting to turn unexpectedly lyrical, and it’s then that you’re suddenly able to hear the odd plink and pluck from Parker. That should give you an ides of how powerfully the bassist plays, if he can sometimes overcome an electricity-fuelled instrument with his acoustic.

But it’s still mostly Silva and Jordan’s show. As part of an a cappella section on “Independence”, for instance, the saxophonist appears to be testing and weighing every note he creates, balancing the heft of each variation against what he’s trying to create. Later, on “Liberation”, Jordan sometimes literally appears to be vibrating sounds out of his horn’s body, then inventing booming foghorn blasts to clear the air. Finally on the same track, the reed pulses that could have been linked to “A Love Supreme” transmute into quasi-R&B phrases, straight from the Crescent City. With Silva somewhat muted, Jordan mocks or at least ignores those oh-so-earnest 1960s’ hippie-style titles and turns from supple duple note reed biting to a version of Ray Charles’ “Lonely Avenue” prodding the synth into a funky sweet organ groove.

Audience input and the excitement of the moment can sometimes make musicians overvalue live sessions. At a different part of the room Parker’s bass was much more audible that night. Yet since the mikes didn’t capture this, it unbalances what went on, it’s as if you’re only seeing two sizes of a triangle.

So while this CD is an excellent showcase for Jordan and Silva, if the suite performance faced the judges at the Winter Olympics, Jordan would earn a 6.0, Silva a 4.5 and Parker declared hors combat because of the sound. This all adds up to a silver medal -- yet it could have been gold.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Introduction by Patricia Parker 2. Part I: To Free From Bondage 3. Part II: Deliverance 4. Part III: Freedom 5. Part IV: Independence 6. Part V: Liberation 7.

Coda

Personnel: Kidd Jordan (tenor saxophone); Alan Silva (orchestra synthesizer); William Parker (bass)

May 10, 2002

PETER BRÖTZMANN & DIE LIKE A DOG QUARTET

Aoyama Crows
FMP CD 118

Bearing in mind that these four busy musicians have been playing together irregularly for a little less than a decade, they’ve coalesced into one of reedist Peter Brötzmann’s most accomplished units. That’s some achievement for a part time combo, considering that past Brötz bands have included some genre definers as saxophonists Frank Wright and Evan Parker, trombonist Paul Rutherford, bassist Peter Kowald and drummers Han Bennink and Louis Moholo.

Singly or together, rhythm section alchemists --- bassist William Parker, linchpin of a dozen bands in New York’s Lower East Side, and drummer Hamid Drake, Chicago’s most in-demand percussionist -- can apparently move any playing situation onto the gold standard. But the wild card here is Japanese trumpeter Toshinori Kondo, whose electronic treatments add an unusual found sound texture not found in the saxophonist’s other projects, not to mention being the first trumpeter with whom the saxophonist has had a long term relationship.

Of course Brötz is no slouch either in the creative department either. Vigorous or exhausted -- as he apparently was on this date -- the 61-year-old road warrior is still as capable of boundless energy and gut-shredding intensity as he was on his first LP, FOR ADOLPHE SAX, in 1967. What has changed over the years -- and which is now demonstrated when the saxophonist picks up his clarinet or tarogato -- is the unsentimental lyricism that has crept into some of his playing.

Although the music is more-or-less continuous, track three gives you some idea of how it operates. Quieter than anything you would imagine from Wuppertal’s most strident citizen, Brötzmann’s renal cry on the tarogato is first seconded by Parker’s speedy arco bass licks and Drake’s palming of a few percussive sounds. Then Kondo gradually appears through a sort of electronic fog, trilling and chirping in such a way that it seems as if he’s playing a melodica rather than a trumpet.

Manipulating the sound source as much as his instrument, the trumpeter’s Daffy Duck-like squawk is soon overruled by fluid clarinet tones that climb into higher and higher registers. By the conclusion, as Parker elaborates a steady bass pulse and Drake sizzles his cymbals, Kondo spits out twin tones that could as easily come from a toy trumpet or a PVC tube as his brass axe.

Even ignoring electronics, Kondo, who has labored in the avant-trenches for decades with the likes of British pianist Steve Beresford, possesses an inimitable sound. On the first track, for example, his distinctive half-valve growls and muted triple tonguing arrive long before the kilowatts. Then when he really plugs in, at times his brass flurries appear to bounce off the stage lights. Still later his squeal and horse whinnies create a unique vibration that sounds as if he’s blowing through a comb and tissue paper. Finally he ends his mouthy excursion with impulses that may remind many of a rock/funk guitarist exercising his wah wah pedals rather than a brass tone.

Ceding no ground, Brötzmann sans electronics lets loose on tenor saxophone with the kind of exploding, lung-bruising multiphonics that have defined his identity from the beginning. Just before the coda, though, the saxman yanks out his clarinet. Sticking mostly to the lowest register, he devises some dissonant double timed runs to pair with the muted brass.

While all this is going on upfront, the bassist is rhythmically prodding the piece forward, steady as a pilot directing a dreadnought through a stormy sea. Here he’s usually aided and abetted by the drummer, who decorates Parker’s undivided time keeping with frills and fills, sometimes turning the beat around.

In the past Brötzmann has been part of memorable combos that for all intent and purposes defined EuroImprov. Now in his authoritative maturity he’s recruited three exceptional non-Europeans to illustrate with him the shape of global improv.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. 27’46” 2. 15’ 51” 3. 22’40” 4. 3’52”

Personnel: Toshinori Kondo (trumpet, electronics); Peter Brötzmann (tarogato, alto clarinet, tenor saxophone); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums)

March 29, 2002

MATTHEW SHIPP

Nu Bop
Thirsty Ear THI 57114.2

NU BOP certainly gives pianist Matthew Shipp the forum with which to explore his inner Herbie Hancock. The question is why?

No one is saying that Shipp -- who has had to put up with enough unwarranted Cecil Taylor comparisons during his career as a free jazzer -- has to stick to a certain style. He’s certainly shown his versatility with standard bass-and-drums trio projects, string-centred groups and work with saxophonists like Rob Brown, Roscoe Mitchell and David S. Ware. Plus the music on this disc is more than standard jazz-tinged electronica.

But why suddenly have such distinctive stylists as monster bassist William Parker and multi-reedist Daniel Carter been shoved into groove-based tunes and subordinated to the synthesizers and programming of FLAM (Chris Flam)? Consciously or not, as well, the pianist appears to be limiting himself to a fixed number of notes and tones throughout. This session’s executive producer says observing the session was like “witnessing a 21st century Ramsey Lewis at work.” Does Shipp really yearn to be part of “The In Crowd”? Certainly the sound may be “nu bop”, but that’s the only kind of “bop” it is.

In truth, the only musician who seems most at ease on this session is drummer Guillermo E. Brown, who is part of Ware’s band with Shipp and Parker. Often though, his playing turns overbearing and takes on the professional gloss of a so-called urban music studio percussionist like Bill Summers or Ndugu. There are times, in fact, when Shipp introduces some lighter, more contemporary free jazz clusters that are nearly buried under the constant bang-bang-bang from Brown.

“ZX-1” and “X-Ray” appear to be the only respite from this relentless big beat collection of finger snappers and themes that seem to have escaped from Gen X cop shows. On the first, the pianist’s notes turn uncharacteristically angular and Monkish in this unhurried tune, which might upset the jam band types. An acoustic instrument is also definitely featured here unlike some other tracks where (over) amplification turns the acoustic piano into something that could be an electric harpsichord.

“X-Ray” is also a potential beats-per-minute turn off as Carter’s deep toned flute and Parker’s rock hard acoustic bass leisurely explore the tune -- or at least with the leisure they have in slightly less than 3½ minute.

Perhaps the most instructive track is the beat-heavy “Rocket Shipp,” which is also the longest. A real foot tapper, featuring more than six minutes of a repetitive bass pattern, simple percussion shuffles and recurring piano fills, the music finally dissolves at the end, and following an upfront bass run, there’s a snatch of dialogue from someone -- probably Parker. “Give me some more,” he says. “It took a minute for my brain to go dead, but once that happened I was in it”.

While the raucous laughter following the statement indicates that he was just joking around, it’s hard to imagine that statement on any other disc involving Parker, Carter or Shipp.

For a CD by groove-based, pop-oriented jam band jazz, NU BOP is a superior product and it would be rated even higher if it came from an unknown. But Shipp has proven in the past that he’s capable of so much more, that a patina of disappointment overlays the praise. Keep experimenting in other ways, Matthew. There’s still a lot more you can do.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Space Shipp 2. Nu Bop 3. ZX-1 4. D’s Choice 5. X-Ray 6. Rocket Shipp 7. Select Mode 1 8. Nu Abstract 9. Select Mode 2

Personnel: Daniel Carter (alto saxophone, flute); Matthew Shipp (piano); William Parker (bass); Guillermo E. Brown (drums); FLAM [Chris Flam] (synthesizers and programming)

March 1, 2002

THE MUSIC ENSEMBLE

The Music Ensemble
Roaratorio Roar 03

History, especially jazz history, is a set of shared anecdotes and popular assumptions usually organized years after the fact. This approach’s shortcomings are made clearest when conjecture is transformed into cant, as was demonstrated by Ken Burns’ JAZZ series. Musical history -- especially one as complex as improvised music -- can’t easily be reduced to a theory of great men and neat transitions. Pesky details on the margins mess up these neat concepts, just like an exceptional jazz solo plays with the criterion of a conventional melody.

Which brings us to the slice of musically important history that is this CD. Recorded in 1974 and 1975, when conventional narratives would tell us that nothing else was happening on the jazz scene but pop-jazz-fusion and bebop revivalism, here’s the sounds of a precisely integrated, so-called avant garde band playing as if it was 1965 or even 1995. Not only that, but of the six performers, three would be celebrated as standard-bearers of New York-centred ecstatic jazz by the late 1990s.

Billy Bang, long before he joined the String Trio of New York, demonstrates his unique approach to the violin. Daniel Cater, decades way from being a linchpin of TEST and other Manhattan bands is here playing different saxophones, flutes and percussion. Bassist William Parker, who even then had already recorded a notable session with tenor man Frank Lowe, was beginning a career that would make him the most ubiquitous musician and organizer of present day free music.

Drummer Peter Baird, who recorded the session, is now involved with other music. However bassist Herb Kahn --who is only on the first track -- and trumpeter Malik Baraka, who died soon afterwards due to a drug habit, are merely names.

Considering the sound was captured in two different New York area schools on a cassette recorder with a single stereo mike, except for some sections, it’s surprisingly clear and immediate. In fact, the only really negative aspect of this disc is that the improvisations on it have remained unreleased for more than a quarter of a century.

Made up of a core group of committed musicians, The Music Ensemble practiced regularly and intensively. It shows. At least the four joint tracks on this CD sound like compositions with definite themes, sections and codas, not as excuses to jam or grandstand.

Throughout Baraka, whose tone is thin technically, but expressive, sort of like Donald Ayler’s, blends impressively with others in the front line. Whether he’s wreathing in counterpoint around the surprisingly Bird-like alto lines of Carter on the nearly 32-minute “Stance Dance (Courage)”, creating a third meshed part with Bang and Parker’s strings or moving harshly and straightahead on “Arithmetical Mystic” he definitely has something to say. It’s a shame we’ll never know if his vocabulary would have developed further.

Even then Carter was versatility personified. Besides his outstanding saxophone work on the disc, his ethereal flute work on “Echoes Wind Transpire” is so close to Bang’s fiddling that it’s sometimes hard to distinguish one from another. Some of the massed percussion bottom favored by inside/outside performers of the time likely comes from his hands and wrists as well.

Bang can be romantic in sections as on “Echoes”, or slash away on the top of his range on “Stance”, as Parker’s bow scrapes the bottom lines. Responsible for keeping the forward motion of the tunes going despite the dense, buzzing concentration of the front line, Parker does so powerfully and memorably. Only rarely does he step forward, though, as he does on “Stance” where he delivers a lilting cello-like aside. Meanwhile unheralded Baird extends the percussive carpet with steady strokes from all over his expanded kit, sometime accenting the bass drum as on “Radiatory Fineness” or bringing out the tablas on “Stance” for contrast.

Don’t look for some of these musicians or the session to be noted in the next boilerplate jazz history or TV special. But do try to find this CD to get an insight into how --and when -- the music really evolved and changed.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Stance Dance (Courage)* 2. Arithmetical Mystic 3. Echoes Wind Transpire 4. Radiatory Fineness

Personnel: Malik Baraka (trumpet); Daniel Carter (alto and tenor saxophones, flutes, drums percussion); Billy Bang (violin, percussion); William Parker, Herb Kahn* (bass); Roger Baird (drums, percussion, tablas, flutes)

February 8, 2002

AUGUSTÍ FERNÁNDEZ/WILLIAM PARKER

2nd Set
Radical Records M PE 047

AUGUSTÍ FERNÁNDEZ/CHRISTOPH IRMER

Ebro Delta

Hybrid CD 18

Every day it seems, impressive improvising musicians are appearing in places most North Americans don’t associate with innovative sounds or even modern music. Appearing, of course is a relative term. In cases like this the “appearance” isn’t any more a description than our concept of Columbus “discovering” the New World, which had existed for many previous millennia.

Pianist Augustí Fernández, 47, for instance, a resident of Barcelona, Spain, has been a professional since he was 13, under the acknowledged influence of one American and one European model: Cecil Taylor and Iannis Xenakis. In the years since 1985 he has recorded at least a dozen CDs and worked with musicians as different as saxophonist Evan Parker, cellist France-Marie Uitti, Butoh dancer Andrés Corchero and a local improvising vocal group. Reflecting his bifurcated regimen, these two accomplished CDs pinpoint both sides of his pianistic conception.

Fernández first played with ubiquitous bassist William Parker in New York in 1997, and recorded with him and drummer Susie Ibarra in Barcelona the following year. More than a follow up, 2ND SET is both an intensification and an expansion of that trio meeting.

Divided between two massive -- almost 25 minute and more than 32 minute -- improvisations with a fleet interlude separating them, the disc finds the pianist in his most weighty free jazz role. Confining himself mostly to the bass region and bottom notes of the instrument -- and heavy on the sustain pedal -- his constant keystrokes can remind you of a building orgasm, waiting for release.

“Part I” finds Parker stroking his bass strings with similar intensity, as his bow thrusts push the pianist closer to the edge, exposing a forward motion that soon has him ranging all over the keyboard. Echoing overtones that range from bass to treble soon begin to suggest other sounds like dense electronics as well as different chordal instruments with what could be as a whimsical harpsichord pluck or a pedal steel guitar whine. Later, as Parker moves from scratching out arco cello parts to creating guitar-like strums with his bass, Fernández climaxes by rubbing and manipulating the piano’s strings until both musicians are spent and satisfied.

Following the interlude, “Part II” -- which is the same length of many 1960s’ LPs -- is even more intense. Proving that he’s ambidextrous as well as multi-functional, Fernández at times appears to be advancing two -- or sometimes three (!) -- themes simultaneously. As light and airy as “Part I” was dark and dank, the pianist begins playing so quickly that the wood of the piano practically echoes. Not thought of as the retiring type, the bassist usual Herculean plucks are practically rendered inaudible by Fernández’s efforts. Displaying his mettle, Parker eventually signals the piece’s conclusion with some high-pitched, metallic bowing.

If 2ND SET exposes the so-called American side of Fernández’s improvisations, then EBRO DELTA, recorded more than two years earlier, showcases his purported European persona. If his playing is thick and note-crammed with Parker, here it’s roomier, more expansive and intentionally hesitant. A shorter disc than the first, it’s also divided among 13 tracks -- most in the one, two and three minute range.

Also, as opposed to Parker, a free jazz maven since the late-1970s, who is best-known for his work with Cecil Taylor, David S. Ware and his own large and small bands, classically trained Christoph Irmer, a native of Wuppertal, Germany, has only been improvising since the early 1990s.

Still his use of unconventional techniques have helped him make up for lost time and since then he has been a member of bassist Peter Kowald’s Ort-Ensemble, and recorded with guitar torturer Hans Tammen, bassist Dominic Duval, and percussionist Jay Rosen.

Collaborating in the language of scratches and scrapes, the pianist and violinist approach the shorter tunes similarly with sharp, machine-like runs from the keyboard and extended, jagged arco gashes from the fiddle. Sometimes you can imagine the two as mechanized robots, performing in a sci-fi chamber recital on Planet X.

Only “Was da im Wasser blinkt”, which melds dancing piano patterns and straightforward, almost 19th century bowing from Irmer produces a different sort of duet, as do the CD’s two longest pieces.

“Fire Animals Laughing Creeping Screaming”, with its English, rather than German title and lasting a little more than 10 minutes could be heard as the complete score for a short ballet mechanique. With Irmer reverberating more than one string at a time, Fernández responds by diving hands-first into the piano bowels, producing harp

sonorities. When Irmer turns high-hatish and begins to play a short, sprightly melody, the pianist dons his aural clown’s costume and begins crashing and banging on the reverberating strings and keys. Merely touching the string with his bow, the violinist then creates something analogous to a saxophonist’s pitch vibrato, encouraging both players to create a series of piercing tones that sound like nails whistling as they’re being pulled along unyielding metal.

Even more extensive and totaling more than at 12½ minutes, the four-part “Suite in D” comes across as a parody of oh-so-pretentious Mittel European chamber concerts, with the duo’s presentation resembling a knife fight more than a courtly fencing session.

From the beginning, when the two seem to take turns banging on the sides of their respective instruments as often as they sound the strings, they manage to musically move the suite frontward as they mock it. “Adagio morbido” is just that, oozed out so morbidly slowly that the notes appear to be so nearly motionless that they’re almost stillborn. “Furioso” must relate more to haste than anger, since the violinist, especially, creates speedy bowed lines, that are occasionally interrupted by the occasional finger pluck. In the finale Fernández appears to be reaching inside the piano to pluck strings as well, as he and Irmer move from arco (well, touch, in the pianist’s case) to pizzicato and back again. Gathering his strength the pianist ends the piece with a crashing heavy note, only to have the violinist get in the last word -- er, note -- with a final yank.

As demonstrated by these CDs, Fernández, like his countryman Picasso, can create in different modes, with the texture and color varying with the mood and situation. Both sessions are worth investigation, with your choice depending on your particular preferences. Maybe you’d like both.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 2nd: 1. Second Set Part I 2. Interlude 3. Second Set Part II

Personnel: 2nd: Agustí Fernández (piano); William Parker (bass)

Track Listing: Ebro:1 Hartes Gestein 2. Vögel in Pappeln gehen schlafen 3. Barceló 4. Fire Animals Laughing Creeping Screaming 5. Was da im Wasser blinkt 6. Luxury 7. La casa del piano 8. Suite in D: Allegro 9. Suite in D: Adagio morbido 10. Suite in D: Furioso 11. Suite in D: Finale 12. Halbschlaftraum (nach der Siesta) 13. Was geschehen ist (Erinnerung/Coda)

Personnel: Ebro: Christoph Irmer (violin); Agustí Fernández (piano)

January 1, 2002

MATTHEW SHIPP

Nu Bop
Thirsty Ear THI 57114.2

NU BOP certainly gives pianist Matthew Shipp the forum with which to explore his inner Herbie Hancock. The question is why?

No one is saying that Shipp -- who has had to put up with enough unwarranted Cecil Taylor comparisons during his career as a free jazzer -- has to stick to a certain style. He’s certainly shown his versatility with standard bass-and-drums trio projects, string-centred groups and work with saxophonists like Rob Brown, Roscoe Mitchell and David S. Ware. Plus the music on this disc is more than standard jazz-tinged electronica.

But why suddenly have such distinctive stylists as monster bassist William Parker and multi-reedist Daniel Carter been shoved into groove-based tunes and subordinated to the synthesizers and programming of FLAM (Chris Flam)? Consciously or not, as well, the pianist appears to be limiting himself to a fixed number of notes and tones throughout. This session’s executive producer says observing the session was like “witnessing a 21st century Ramsey Lewis at work.” Does Shipp really yearn to be part of “The In Crowd”? Certainly the sound may be “nu bop”, but that’s the only kind of “bop” it is.

In truth, the only musician who seems most at ease on this session is drummer Guillermo E. Brown, who is part of Ware’s band with Shipp and Parker. Often though, his playing turns overbearing and takes on the professional gloss of a so-called urban music studio percussionist like Bill Summers or Ndugu. There are times, in fact, when Shipp introduces some lighter, more contemporary free jazz clusters that are nearly buried under the constant bang-bang-bang from Brown.

“ZX-1” and “X-Ray” appear to be the only respite from this relentless big beat collection of finger snappers and themes that seem to have escaped from Gen X cop shows. On the first, the pianist’s notes turn uncharacteristically angular and Monkish in this unhurried tune, which might upset the jam band types. An acoustic instrument is also definitely featured here unlike some other tracks where (over) amplification turns the acoustic piano into something that could be an electric harpsichord.

“X-Ray” is also a potential beats-per-minute turn off as Carter’s deep toned flute and Parker’s rock hard acoustic bass leisurely explore the tune -- or at least with the leisure they have in slightly less than 3½ minute.

Perhaps the most instructive track is the beat-heavy “Rocket Shipp,” which is also the longest. A real foot tapper, featuring more than six minutes of a repetitive bass pattern, simple percussion shuffles and recurring piano fills, the music finally dissolves at the end, and following an upfront bass run, there’s a snatch of dialogue from someone -- probably Parker. “Give me some more,” he says. “It took a minute for my brain to go dead, but once that happened I was in it”.

While the raucous laughter following the statement indicates that he was just joking around, it’s hard to imagine that statement on any other disc involving Parker, Carter or Shipp.

For a CD by groove-based, pop-oriented jam band jazz, NU BOP is a superior product and it would be rated even higher if it came from an unknown. But Shipp has proven in the past that he’s capable of so much more, that a patina of disappointment overlays the praise. Keep experimenting in other ways, Matthew. There’s still a lot more you can do.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Space Shipp 2. Nu Bop 3. ZX-1 4. D’s Choice 5. X-Ray 6. Rocket Shipp 7. Select Mode 1 8. Nu Abstract 9. Select Mode 2

Personnel: Daniel Carter (alto saxophone, flute); Matthew Shipp (piano); William Parker (bass); Guillermo E. Brown (drums); FLAM [Chris Flam] (synthesizers and programming)

March 1, 2001

WILLIAM PARKER

Painter’s Spring
Thirsty Ear TH 57088.2

One penalty for musical eclecticism is that most listeners don’t realize how well a musician proficient on many instruments can play on each of his axes. The prime example of someone who suffered for his inventiveness was multi-instrumentalist Rahsaan Roland Kirk. He probably would have been recognized as a major tenor saxophone stylist if he had stuck to that horn, instead of the three he blew in tandem. Another unjustly obscure stylist is Daniel Carter. Manhattanite Carter, who is an impressive link in the cooperatives Other

Dimensions In Music and Test -- and who is the only hornman featured on this outstanding disc -- definitely suffers from the Kirk syndrome. Accomplished on tenor and alto saxophones, clarinet, flute and trumpet, it’s Carter’s curse to be seen more as a general utility player than a fine soloist.

Consider what he does here, though. Holding his own against Parker, who is probably the single most forceful four-string player around today and drummer Drake, who could power a locomotive if he had to, Cater doesn’t use his many horns for decoration but judiciously employs them where they best fit.

“Flash”, for instance, which begins as a showcase for Drake’s snares and cymbals, soon, thanks to Carter, evolves into a duet as he propels the melody through the upper registered of his post New Thing alto saxophone. “Foundation #1” and “Foundation #2” are straight-ahead tenor saxophone blowouts, with Carter unleashing double time stops and multiphonics. That doesn’t scare the others however, though it does give the listener a glimpse of how the promised, but aborted, Sonny Rollins-Charles Mingus-Max Roach trio session may have sounded.

Virtuosity is showcased on “Come Sunday” -- which doesn’t sound like the Duke Ellington classic it’s supposed to be -- as the hornman’s vaporous flute tones are succeeded by another persona in the form of durable, lower register clarinet lines. PAINTER’S SPRING is another exceptional showcase for Parker, who wrote all the tunes but two here. Like Charles Mingus, he’s at home with any size ensemble, while his compositional talents are matched only by his playing skills. For an instance of that, here the transformation of the old hymn, “There is a Balm in Gilead”, into a resonant, one-person tour-de-force.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Foundation #1 2. Come Sunday 3. Blues for Percy 4. Flash 5. There is a Balm in Gilead 6. Foundation #4 7. Foundation #2 8. Trilog

Personnel: Daniel Carter (alto and tenor saxophones, flute, clarinet); Willam Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums)

August 4, 2000

BILL COLE

Bill Cole's Untempered Ensemble, Live 11/20/99
Boxholder BXH 008/009

Jazz's flirtation with non-Western music has been going on almost since Duke Ellington wrote his first "Jungle" composition. But serious convergence with these sounds really happened when composer/performers such as Yusef Lateef and Art Blakey got to visit Africa in the 1940s and 1950s. Since then whole strains of so-called "ethnic" musics -- including Arabic, Greek, Balkan and Yiddish -- have been added to the jazz continuum. But few musicians bring the same aesthetic and understanding of these different cultures' sounds as do the members of Bill Cole's Untempered Ensemble.

Cole, who is also an educator and author -- he's written biographies of John Coltrane and Miles Davis -- has been playing non-European horns for about 40 years. And on this fascinating two-CD set he's joined by six other researchers into the interplay between Western instruments and those of the rest of the world. Most of the work, moreover, takes place in the divisions between the notes of the Western tempered scale.

Yet despite -- or perhaps because of -- the scholastic credentials of some of the musicians involved, this concert-session is no dry academic presentation but a showcase for living music.

For Cole -- with a longtime concern for social justice -- uses these sounds of the African Diaspora, to illustrate his reflections on Black history. The nearly 49 minute long "Freedom 1863", for instance, is practically program music, using different sounds to describe different figures. Marcus Garvey's Jamaican background is noted with a bongo and conga workout, for instance; Southern civil rights worker Rosa Parks is described with a straight blues from crying alto saxophone walking bass and Arabic double reed; and Harriet Tubman's slavery era struggles are memorialized by flute and primitive banjo.

This mix of First World and Third World Jazz, can result in what sounds like Middle Eastern muezzin tones followed by an out-and-out sanctified passage on "Fanny Lou Hamer", a tune that eerily resembles Mingus' "Better Git It In Your Soul". Yet "Amadou Diallo", written for the unarmed immigrant who was killed by New York City police, presents free tuba, flute and drum sections contrasting with excursions on the giant Tibetan trumpet and matches peaceful homemade harp shimmers with rough-hewn conga drumming.

With each performer conversant with at least one, if not more, modes of non-Western musics, the overall program is as mesmerizing as it is well played. If you want to trace the intersection of world musics without having to appear either condescending or trendy, then this session offers you a kaleidoscopic view of how it should be done.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Disc 1: 1. Struggles of Fannie Lou Hamer 2. The Short Life of Amadou Diallo Disc 2: Freedom 1863: A Fable

Personnel: Bill Cole (digeridoo, sona, Tibetan trumpet, hojok, shenai, nagaswarm, bamboo flute; Sam Furnace (alto soprano saxophone, flute); Joseph Daley (tuba, baritone horn); Cooper-Moore (flute, mouth bow, horizontal hoe-handle harp, rim drums, three-stringed fretless banjo); William Parker (bass); Warren Smith (drums, gongs, marimba, dunno drum, rainsticks); Atticus Cole (congas, bongos, timbales, rain sticks)

July 27, 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