Alexander Von Schlippenbach

Friulian Sketches
psi 08.07

TOOT

Two

Another Timbre At14

Jan Roder

Double Bass

Jazzwerkstatt JW 037

Aki Takase & The Good Boys

Live at Willisau Jazz Festival

Jazz Werkstatt JW 049

Extended Play: Alexander Von Schlippenbach and his band mates

By Ken Waxman

One European jazz pacesetter since the late 1960s, German pianist Alexander Von Schlippenbach’s groups showcase different aspects of his broad interests. Together for over 35 years, his trio with saxophonist Evan Parker and drummer Paul Lovens features improvisers attuned to each other’s thinking. Predating that, The Globe Unity Orchestra herds outstanding Continental soloists into cooperative big band arrangements. His Monk’s Casino quintet – filled out by German players about 25 years younger than Schlippenbach, 71 – offers a unique take on Thelonious Monk’s oeuvre. Its members also score on individual projects, like these CDs.

Able to display the quirky kernel of Monk’s moods elsewhere, on

Friulian Sketches psi 08.07, Von Schlippenbach personalizes jazz chamber music, seconded by Amerian cellist Tristan Honsinger and Italian clarinetist Daniele D’Agaro, The 20 inventions are airy and pleasant, and never do the bel canto flourishes trump innate creativity. For example on “Capriccio” skewed Monkian tropes give way to broken-octave chording and strummed cadenzas from the pianist – both formalist and funky. In contrast the cellist’s tremolo squeaks open up into multi-string exhibitionism, while D’Agaro’s reed quivers with lyrical currents.

Moderato throughout, tunes are frequently jolted by the clarinetist’s high-pitched glissandi or liquid portamento. Take “Antifonia” where D’Agaro’s tones are matched by the pianist’s organic patterning plus a stop-time interlude from Honsinger. Altering their instruments’ tessitura as they play, the three keep the restrained sounds from becoming simplistic by including rhythmic plunks from cello strings and key fanning from the piano.

Simplicity doesn’t enter the equation on TOOT’s Two Another Timbre At14. Here the Bebop chops trumpeter Axel Dörner exhibits in Monk’s Casino are transmogrified into disembodied brass sound pulses, the better to meld with the quivering wave forms and undercurrents from Thomas Lehn’s synthesizer and the cries, retches and mumbles which make up the unconventional oralization of British vocalist Phil Minton.

Minton’s style of anti-singing, which encompasses duck quacks, yodeling, basso growls and strangled yelps, reduces vocal expression to its most basic. So does the trumpeter, whose expression mostly consists of flat-line air forced through the horn’s body tube, reductionist breaths and circumscribed grace notes. Abstract on their own, Lehn’s sound envelopes hold the improvisations together with pulsating signals and electric-piano-like sprinkles.

Evolving chromatically or contrapuntally, Toot’s soundworld is pointillist, but not cynosure. Despite Minton’s strident throat extensions, his gibberish sprouting is put into context when mated with the others’ outpourings. Purring timbres and ring modulator-like whooshes from the synthesizer create a connective undercurrent, while Dörner’s excursions into muted grace notes confirm the in-the-moment status of the improvisations.

Even more instantaneous is Aki and The Good Boys’ Live at Willisau Jazz Festival Jazz Werkstatt JW 049. One “good boy” prominent on this CD by Aki Takase – the Japanese-born, Berlin-based pianist – is bass clarinetist Rudi Mahall, who shares the front line in Monk’s Casino with Dörner. Serendipitously enough, Takase is Von Schlippenbach’s wife. Looser than the other CDs’ programs, Live cannily subvert American jazz and German folksongs. Takase’s compositions are harmonically and melodically sophisticated. They also have sufficient space for her keyboard forays ranging from high-frequency tinkling, to metronomic pulsing. Added are flutter-tongued, altissimo and vamping exchanges between Mahall and Amsterdam-based reedist Tobias Delius. Scattered among the tunes are four Mahall-composed miniatures which lighten the mood and extend the color palate. “Dreimal Durch” for instance, conflates an uneven pulse, spidery piano arpeggios and unison horn trills.

The bass clarinetist’s reed bites, spetrofluctuation and tongue slaps help define Takase compositions such as “Todays Ulysses” which also showcases her metronomic patterning and contrasting dynamics. Here, Mahall scooping concentric notes from his horn’s bottom causes Delius to unleash responsive honks and slurs.

In contrast to these exercises in group interaction, bassist Jan Roder – whose solid rhythm is the rock on which Monk’s Casino rests – goes it alone on Double Bass Jazzwerkstatt 037, unveiling multiple strategies as his modulated plucks alternate with metronomic inventions plus abrasive bow scratches. “Naŭ” captures slaps, pulls and thumps. “Ses” deals with staccato, strident and subterranean double-stopping – one texture resembles pooch barks, another is airily melodic. Then there’s “Kvar”, which uses crumpled paper placed among the strings to create rattling noises that upticks to sul ponticello creaks. The piece concludes with adagio note clusters executed with guitar-like facility.

Each musician excels as a stylist on his own. Toronto can experience them together as Monk’s Casino at the Church of the Reeder as [art of the TD Canada Trust Jazz Festival on June 26.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 14 #9

June 1, 2009

Aki Takase & The Good Boys

Live at Willisau Jazz Festival
Jazz Werkstatt JW 049

Alexander Von Schlippenbach

Friulian Sketches

psi 08.07

TOOT

Two

Another Timbre At14

Jan Roder

Double Bass

Jazzwerkstatt JW 037

Extended Play: Alexander Von Schlippenbach and his band mates

By Ken Waxman

One European jazz pacesetter since the late 1960s, German pianist Alexander Von Schlippenbach’s groups showcase different aspects of his broad interests. Together for over 35 years, his trio with saxophonist Evan Parker and drummer Paul Lovens features improvisers attuned to each other’s thinking. Predating that, The Globe Unity Orchestra herds outstanding Continental soloists into cooperative big band arrangements. His Monk’s Casino quintet – filled out by German players about 25 years younger than Schlippenbach, 71 – offers a unique take on Thelonious Monk’s oeuvre. Its members also score on individual projects, like these CDs.

Able to display the quirky kernel of Monk’s moods elsewhere, on

Friulian Sketches psi 08.07, Von Schlippenbach personalizes jazz chamber music, seconded by Amerian cellist Tristan Honsinger and Italian clarinetist Daniele D’Agaro, The 20 inventions are airy and pleasant, and never do the bel canto flourishes trump innate creativity. For example on “Capriccio” skewed Monkian tropes give way to broken-octave chording and strummed cadenzas from the pianist – both formalist and funky. In contrast the cellist’s tremolo squeaks open up into multi-string exhibitionism, while D’Agaro’s reed quivers with lyrical currents.

Moderato throughout, tunes are frequently jolted by the clarinetist’s high-pitched glissandi or liquid portamento. Take “Antifonia” where D’Agaro’s tones are matched by the pianist’s organic patterning plus a stop-time interlude from Honsinger. Altering their instruments’ tessitura as they play, the three keep the restrained sounds from becoming simplistic by including rhythmic plunks from cello strings and key fanning from the piano.

Simplicity doesn’t enter the equation on TOOT’s Two Another Timbre At14. Here the Bebop chops trumpeter Axel Dörner exhibits in Monk’s Casino are transmogrified into disembodied brass sound pulses, the better to meld with the quivering wave forms and undercurrents from Thomas Lehn’s synthesizer and the cries, retches and mumbles which make up the unconventional oralization of British vocalist Phil Minton.

Minton’s style of anti-singing, which encompasses duck quacks, yodeling, basso growls and strangled yelps, reduces vocal expression to its most basic. So does the trumpeter, whose expression mostly consists of flat-line air forced through the horn’s body tube, reductionist breaths and circumscribed grace notes. Abstract on their own, Lehn’s sound envelopes hold the improvisations together with pulsating signals and electric-piano-like sprinkles.

Evolving chromatically or contrapuntally, Toot’s soundworld is pointillist, but not cynosure. Despite Minton’s strident throat extensions, his gibberish sprouting is put into context when mated with the others’ outpourings. Purring timbres and ring modulator-like whooshes from the synthesizer create a connective undercurrent, while Dörner’s excursions into muted grace notes confirm the in-the-moment status of the improvisations.

Even more instantaneous is Aki and The Good Boys’ Live at Willisau Jazz Festival Jazz Werkstatt JW 049. One “good boy” prominent on this CD by Aki Takase – the Japanese-born, Berlin-based pianist – is bass clarinetist Rudi Mahall, who shares the front line in Monk’s Casino with Dörner. Serendipitously enough, Takase is Von Schlippenbach’s wife. Looser than the other CDs’ programs, Live cannily subvert American jazz and German folksongs. Takase’s compositions are harmonically and melodically sophisticated. They also have sufficient space for her keyboard forays ranging from high-frequency tinkling, to metronomic pulsing. Added are flutter-tongued, altissimo and vamping exchanges between Mahall and Amsterdam-based reedist Tobias Delius. Scattered among the tunes are four Mahall-composed miniatures which lighten the mood and extend the color palate. “Dreimal Durch” for instance, conflates an uneven pulse, spidery piano arpeggios and unison horn trills.

The bass clarinetist’s reed bites, spetrofluctuation and tongue slaps help define Takase compositions such as “Todays Ulysses” which also showcases her metronomic patterning and contrasting dynamics. Here, Mahall scooping concentric notes from his horn’s bottom causes Delius to unleash responsive honks and slurs.

In contrast to these exercises in group interaction, bassist Jan Roder – whose solid rhythm is the rock on which Monk’s Casino rests – goes it alone on Double Bass Jazzwerkstatt 037, unveiling multiple strategies as his modulated plucks alternate with metronomic inventions plus abrasive bow scratches. “Naŭ” captures slaps, pulls and thumps. “Ses” deals with staccato, strident and subterranean double-stopping – one texture resembles pooch barks, another is airily melodic. Then there’s “Kvar”, which uses crumpled paper placed among the strings to create rattling noises that upticks to sul ponticello creaks. The piece concludes with adagio note clusters executed with guitar-like facility.

Each musician excels as a stylist on his own. Toronto can experience them together as Monk’s Casino at the Church of the Reeder as [art of the TD Canada Trust Jazz Festival on June 26.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 14 #9

June 1, 2009

Jan Roder

Double Bass
Jazzwerkstatt JW 037

Aki Takase & The Good Boys

Live at Willisau Jazz Festival

Jazz Werkstatt JW 049

Alexander Von Schlippenbach

Friulian Sketches

psi 08.07

TOOT

Two

Another Timbre At14

Extended Play: Alexander Von Schlippenbach and his band mates

By Ken Waxman

One European jazz pacesetter since the late 1960s, German pianist Alexander Von Schlippenbach’s groups showcase different aspects of his broad interests. Together for over 35 years, his trio with saxophonist Evan Parker and drummer Paul Lovens features improvisers attuned to each other’s thinking. Predating that, The Globe Unity Orchestra herds outstanding Continental soloists into cooperative big band arrangements. His Monk’s Casino quintet – filled out by German players about 25 years younger than Schlippenbach, 71 – offers a unique take on Thelonious Monk’s oeuvre. Its members also score on individual projects, like these CDs.

Able to display the quirky kernel of Monk’s moods elsewhere, on

Friulian Sketches psi 08.07, Von Schlippenbach personalizes jazz chamber music, seconded by Amerian cellist Tristan Honsinger and Italian clarinetist Daniele D’Agaro, The 20 inventions are airy and pleasant, and never do the bel canto flourishes trump innate creativity. For example on “Capriccio” skewed Monkian tropes give way to broken-octave chording and strummed cadenzas from the pianist – both formalist and funky. In contrast the cellist’s tremolo squeaks open up into multi-string exhibitionism, while D’Agaro’s reed quivers with lyrical currents.

Moderato throughout, tunes are frequently jolted by the clarinetist’s high-pitched glissandi or liquid portamento. Take “Antifonia” where D’Agaro’s tones are matched by the pianist’s organic patterning plus a stop-time interlude from Honsinger. Altering their instruments’ tessitura as they play, the three keep the restrained sounds from becoming simplistic by including rhythmic plunks from cello strings and key fanning from the piano.

Simplicity doesn’t enter the equation on TOOT’s Two Another Timbre At14. Here the Bebop chops trumpeter Axel Dörner exhibits in Monk’s Casino are transmogrified into disembodied brass sound pulses, the better to meld with the quivering wave forms and undercurrents from Thomas Lehn’s synthesizer and the cries, retches and mumbles which make up the unconventional oralization of British vocalist Phil Minton.

Minton’s style of anti-singing, which encompasses duck quacks, yodeling, basso growls and strangled yelps, reduces vocal expression to its most basic. So does the trumpeter, whose expression mostly consists of flat-line air forced through the horn’s body tube, reductionist breaths and circumscribed grace notes. Abstract on their own, Lehn’s sound envelopes hold the improvisations together with pulsating signals and electric-piano-like sprinkles.

Evolving chromatically or contrapuntally, Toot’s soundworld is pointillist, but not cynosure. Despite Minton’s strident throat extensions, his gibberish sprouting is put into context when mated with the others’ outpourings. Purring timbres and ring modulator-like whooshes from the synthesizer create a connective undercurrent, while Dörner’s excursions into muted grace notes confirm the in-the-moment status of the improvisations.

Even more instantaneous is Aki and The Good Boys’ Live at Willisau Jazz Festival Jazz Werkstatt JW 049. One “good boy” prominent on this CD by Aki Takase – the Japanese-born, Berlin-based pianist – is bass clarinetist Rudi Mahall, who shares the front line in Monk’s Casino with Dörner. Serendipitously enough, Takase is Von Schlippenbach’s wife. Looser than the other CDs’ programs, Live cannily subvert American jazz and German folksongs. Takase’s compositions are harmonically and melodically sophisticated. They also have sufficient space for her keyboard forays ranging from high-frequency tinkling, to metronomic pulsing. Added are flutter-tongued, altissimo and vamping exchanges between Mahall and Amsterdam-based reedist Tobias Delius. Scattered among the tunes are four Mahall-composed miniatures which lighten the mood and extend the color palate. “Dreimal Durch” for instance, conflates an uneven pulse, spidery piano arpeggios and unison horn trills.

The bass clarinetist’s reed bites, spetrofluctuation and tongue slaps help define Takase compositions such as “Todays Ulysses” which also showcases her metronomic patterning and contrasting dynamics. Here, Mahall scooping concentric notes from his horn’s bottom causes Delius to unleash responsive honks and slurs.

In contrast to these exercises in group interaction, bassist Jan Roder – whose solid rhythm is the rock on which Monk’s Casino rests – goes it alone on Double Bass Jazzwerkstatt 037, unveiling multiple strategies as his modulated plucks alternate with metronomic inventions plus abrasive bow scratches. “Naŭ” captures slaps, pulls and thumps. “Ses” deals with staccato, strident and subterranean double-stopping – one texture resembles pooch barks, another is airily melodic. Then there’s “Kvar”, which uses crumpled paper placed among the strings to create rattling noises that upticks to sul ponticello creaks. The piece concludes with adagio note clusters executed with guitar-like facility.

Each musician excels as a stylist on his own. Toronto can experience them together as Monk’s Casino at the Church of the Reeder as [art of the TD Canada Trust Jazz Festival on June 26.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 14 #9

June 1, 2009

TOOT

Two
Another Timbre At14

Jan Roder

Double Bass

Jazzwerkstatt JW 037

Aki Takase & The Good Boys

Live at Willisau Jazz Festival

Jazz Werkstatt JW 049

Alexander Von Schlippenbach

Friulian Sketches

psi 08.07

Extended Play: Alexander Von Schlippenbach and his band mates

By Ken Waxman

One European jazz pacesetter since the late 1960s, German pianist Alexander Von Schlippenbach’s groups showcase different aspects of his broad interests. Together for over 35 years, his trio with saxophonist Evan Parker and drummer Paul Lovens features improvisers attuned to each other’s thinking. Predating that, The Globe Unity Orchestra herds outstanding Continental soloists into cooperative big band arrangements. His Monk’s Casino quintet – filled out by German players about 25 years younger than Schlippenbach, 71 – offers a unique take on Thelonious Monk’s oeuvre. Its members also score on individual projects, like these CDs.

Able to display the quirky kernel of Monk’s moods elsewhere, on

Friulian Sketches psi 08.07, Von Schlippenbach personalizes jazz chamber music, seconded by Amerian cellist Tristan Honsinger and Italian clarinetist Daniele D’Agaro, The 20 inventions are airy and pleasant, and never do the bel canto flourishes trump innate creativity. For example on “Capriccio” skewed Monkian tropes give way to broken-octave chording and strummed cadenzas from the pianist – both formalist and funky. In contrast the cellist’s tremolo squeaks open up into multi-string exhibitionism, while D’Agaro’s reed quivers with lyrical currents.

Moderato throughout, tunes are frequently jolted by the clarinetist’s high-pitched glissandi or liquid portamento. Take “Antifonia” where D’Agaro’s tones are matched by the pianist’s organic patterning plus a stop-time interlude from Honsinger. Altering their instruments’ tessitura as they play, the three keep the restrained sounds from becoming simplistic by including rhythmic plunks from cello strings and key fanning from the piano.

Simplicity doesn’t enter the equation on TOOT’s Two Another Timbre At14. Here the Bebop chops trumpeter Axel Dörner exhibits in Monk’s Casino are transmogrified into disembodied brass sound pulses, the better to meld with the quivering wave forms and undercurrents from Thomas Lehn’s synthesizer and the cries, retches and mumbles which make up the unconventional oralization of British vocalist Phil Minton.

Minton’s style of anti-singing, which encompasses duck quacks, yodeling, basso growls and strangled yelps, reduces vocal expression to its most basic. So does the trumpeter, whose expression mostly consists of flat-line air forced through the horn’s body tube, reductionist breaths and circumscribed grace notes. Abstract on their own, Lehn’s sound envelopes hold the improvisations together with pulsating signals and electric-piano-like sprinkles.

Evolving chromatically or contrapuntally, Toot’s soundworld is pointillist, but not cynosure. Despite Minton’s strident throat extensions, his gibberish sprouting is put into context when mated with the others’ outpourings. Purring timbres and ring modulator-like whooshes from the synthesizer create a connective undercurrent, while Dörner’s excursions into muted grace notes confirm the in-the-moment status of the improvisations.

Even more instantaneous is Aki and The Good Boys’ Live at Willisau Jazz Festival Jazz Werkstatt JW 049. One “good boy” prominent on this CD by Aki Takase – the Japanese-born, Berlin-based pianist – is bass clarinetist Rudi Mahall, who shares the front line in Monk’s Casino with Dörner. Serendipitously enough, Takase is Von Schlippenbach’s wife. Looser than the other CDs’ programs, Live cannily subvert American jazz and German folksongs. Takase’s compositions are harmonically and melodically sophisticated. They also have sufficient space for her keyboard forays ranging from high-frequency tinkling, to metronomic pulsing. Added are flutter-tongued, altissimo and vamping exchanges between Mahall and Amsterdam-based reedist Tobias Delius. Scattered among the tunes are four Mahall-composed miniatures which lighten the mood and extend the color palate. “Dreimal Durch” for instance, conflates an uneven pulse, spidery piano arpeggios and unison horn trills.

The bass clarinetist’s reed bites, spetrofluctuation and tongue slaps help define Takase compositions such as “Todays Ulysses” which also showcases her metronomic patterning and contrasting dynamics. Here, Mahall scooping concentric notes from his horn’s bottom causes Delius to unleash responsive honks and slurs.

In contrast to these exercises in group interaction, bassist Jan Roder – whose solid rhythm is the rock on which Monk’s Casino rests – goes it alone on Double Bass Jazzwerkstatt 037, unveiling multiple strategies as his modulated plucks alternate with metronomic inventions plus abrasive bow scratches. “Naŭ” captures slaps, pulls and thumps. “Ses” deals with staccato, strident and subterranean double-stopping – one texture resembles pooch barks, another is airily melodic. Then there’s “Kvar”, which uses crumpled paper placed among the strings to create rattling noises that upticks to sul ponticello creaks. The piece concludes with adagio note clusters executed with guitar-like facility.

Each musician excels as a stylist on his own. Toronto can experience them together as Monk’s Casino at the Church of the Reeder as [art of the TD Canada Trust Jazz Festival on June 26.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 14 #9

June 1, 2009

ICP ORCHESTRA

Aan & Uit
ICP 042

Up to their old tricks, the 10 members of the Dutch ICP Orchestra prove once again that having a good time and swinging doesn’t mean that you have to give up artistic integrity. Similarly this 70-minute collection of compositions, mostly by pianist/leader Misha Mengelberg, twists enough POMO strands that the band’s position as an evolving workshop -- like Mingus’ bands, for instance -- remains constant.

This time out, you notice that American cellist Tristan Honsinger -- an on-and-off ICP member for years -- and trombonist Wolter Wierbos have moved into centre position in the band, sharing the most space with originals Mengelberg and drummer Han Bennink. Yet the longest -- almost nine minute tune -- is written by and a showcase for trumpeter Thomas Heberer.

Adapting pre-modern as well as post-modern touches, the trumpeter’s “Let’s climb a hill” provides one glimpse into the ICP’s MO. Taken double time, the theme is a finger-snapping quasi-Swing Era riff. The tune finds Bennink sand dancing on the traps like a reborn Jo Jones -- that is when he isn’t producing a rickety-tick vamp as if he was a member of Jelly Roll Morton’s Red Hot Peppers. Mengelberg sticks to the leitmotif with heavy on the left-hand piano, while Wierbos’ plunger slurs are straight from the Tricky Sam Nanton bag. All this, of course, doesn’t prevent Honsinger interjecting harsh ponticello lines every so often. Meanwhile the composer and chief soloist soars with perfect timbre over the others, hitting some high-pitched vibrated notes that suggest Cat Anderson as well as Roy Eldridge. As the piece decelerates it climaxes with piano arpeggios and a reed vamp.

“The sparrows start waving their pyjamas [sic]”, the final number of Mengelberg’s six-part Picnic suite is another foot patter. Here the horns riff like the Savoy Sultans, the pianist is in a supple-fingered Teddy Wilson mode, one trilling clarinetist makes like Barney Bigard and Ab Baars or Toby Delius are in a burly, sideslipping Ben Webster role when one or the other solos on tenor saxophone. Yet the trombonist’s double-tonguing and the spiaccato glissandi from the strings don’t exactly mesh with the concept -- nor should they.

Additionally, there’s no sizzle cymbal or cowbell in earshot even on Hoagy Carmichael’s “Barbaric”, which smoothly works itself into a Count Basie-Benny Goodman combo groove. Yet while Carmichael may have appreciated the Joe Venuti-like solo from violinist Mary Oliver, he would have been flummoxed by the hard bop tenor saxophone line and rubtao trumpet solos in the middle of his song. Maybe he would have been tipped off that this wasn’t an altogether reverent reading when the trombonist’s solo seems a little too exaggeratedly “hot”.

Elsewhere, AAN & UIT features the strings and clarinets uniting for some chamber style tones on “Tijd voor de Quadrille” -- although that tune’s purity dissolves with a staccato trombone run and a finale more appropriate for a barn dance hoedown. Then there’s “Play some badminton” -- also part of the Picnic suite -- which mixes jolly, polka-like trombone blats, lighter-toned clarinet chirps, arpeggio string trio movements that seems to have migrated from a recital hall, and caustic, interpolated Monkisms from the pianist.

Mengelberg’s version of Monk’s piano clipping, octave jumps and forearm clusters are part of the sarcastic humor he introduces to these tunes. On “De Sprong, O Romantiek der Hazen”, for instance, he interrupts an essay in impressionistic piano chording for some screeching vocalizing -- has Bennink’s wildness finally got to him after all these years? Furthermore, roistering horn interjections complete with hocketing honks and a brassy counterline from Heberer interrupt -- likely on purpose -- the upbeat bounce the pianist brings to “A beautiful day”.

Incorrigible as always, Bennink’s off-centre, sometimes clip-clopping, and often too loud drumming is a feature of nearly every track. Laterally you can most easily note the rearrangement of priorities with the Honsinger composed “Ever Never”. At points it appears to be a record of feeding time at the barnyard with yelps, growls, baas, moos and yodels from the strings, horns, busy bass drums and cymbals. In contrast, it’s the pianist who seems restrained. He plays a straight thematic note grouping reaching high onto the keys for some slithering cadenzas. Following that, he appears to be marking time as the blaring horns and drums play circus-like music.

Have the inmates finally taken over the asylum, or is it all planned? You can find out by listening to this CD.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Aan & Uit 2. De Sprong, O Romantiek der Hazen Picnic Suite:

3. A beautiful day 4. Let’s go to the river 5. And have a Picnic 6. Play some badminton 7. Let’s go home before 8. The sparrows start waving their pyjamas 9. Tijd voor de Quadrille 10. Barbaric 11. Back to Lippiza 12. Va-et-vient 13. Ever Never 14. Waar bleef je? 15. Tuinhek 16. Opa 17. Let’s climb a hill 18. Aan & Uit

Personnel: Thomas Heberer (trumpet); Wolter Wierbos (trombone); Michael Moore (alto saxophone and clarinet); Tobias Delius, Ab Baars (tenor saxophones and clarinets); Misha Mengelberg (piano and vocals); Mary Oliver (violin and viola); Tristan Honsinger (cello); Ernst Glerum (bass); Han Bennink (drums)

December 6, 2004

CECIL TAYLOR

Incarnation
FMP CD 123

Sailing past his 75th birthday in March, pianist Cecil Taylor seems to have no trouble maintaining the creativity that has served him well since his first recording date almost a half-century ago.

How does the emphatic improviser manage to keep creative many years past when most musicians -- even Louis Armstrong, his only challenger for transformation of 20th century music -- fall into repetition and often self-parody? Very simply Taylor is always concerned with making it new. This can involved new compositions, new improvisations, new settings, or new combinations of musicians.

Take this CD recorded in Berlin in 1999, when the pianist was a mere stripling of 70. Not only are there three new instant compositions on show, but the backing trio is made up of three instrumentalists who had never played with Taylor as a unit. Designated as special guest, immutable Andrew Cyrille was the percussionist in the Cecil Taylor Unit from 1964 to 1975 and brings the same offhanded power here as he did then. Expatriate American cellist Tristan Honsinger, a linchpin of Amsterdam’s ICP Orchestra, has played and recorded with Taylor before, most notably in a 1988 trio session with British saxist Evan Parker. His staccato timing, shattering feints and spiccato lines wrap soloist and accompanist functions together into an atonal package.

Wildcard here is Surinamian-Dutch guitarist Franky Douglas, recording -- but not playing -- with the pianist for the first time. Someone whose strings are as apt to reverberate with tones that reflect power-rock as Free Jazz outer space cadences, his remarkable six-string effects add another hue to Taylor’s palate. It’s worth noting in passing that the pianist’s recorded bands have never before included a guitarist.

Playing for more than 77 minutes, the Taylor four strut their stuff without a bit of filler. However, there are points when the rolling rage of the pianist’s 10-fingered contrasting dynamics -- and sound poetry cries -- provide a certain atonal familiarity to the tracks. Yet the unexpected still lurks in nearly every bar line.

With Douglas providing distorted rhythmic echoes and uncommon, Ur-electric vibrating licks -- is this the Latin blues à la Curaçao? -- Cyrille moves from steamrolling, on-the-beat percussiveness to gentler tympani pitches. Meanwhile the cellist double and triple stops distinct lines -- one minute following Tayor with legato sweeps that could find a home in a hip concert hall, the next minute playing off the rhythmic throb of the other two with worrying ponticello multiphonics that might amaze open-minded serialists.

When he gathers full steam, Taylor seems to slough off his septuagenarian ranking to exhibit once again the flailing force for which his high intensity playing has long been noted. But as benefits a man who has been at it so long -- and a senior citizen to boot --there are disciplined passages of intense, lyrical beauty as well here.

As amazing as it seems to repeatedly have to write it, there’s very little inconsistency in Cecil Taylor sessions, and this CD is no exception to their overall high standing. With a new set of helpmates he’s turned out yet another premium disc.

With accelerating technique and imagination seemingly intensifying as he ages, just imagine how the recorded results of CDs done in his 75th year will sound.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Focus 2. Carnation 3. Cartouche

Personnel: Cecil Taylor (piano, voice); Franky Douglas (guitar, voice); Tristan Honsinger (cello); Andrew Cyrille (drums, tympani)

May 10, 2004

CECIL TAYLOR ENSEMBLE

The Light of Corona
FMP CD 120

Keeping your attention fixated on the centre ring on this three-ring circus performance by a Cecil Taylor nonet is only a little more difficult than usual.

That’s because while the piano-as-ferocious-lion taming act of pianist Taylor is as riveting as always, distractions abound. There are acrobatic leaps and bounds on show from the horn section and a definite clown act arising from one member of the rhythm section.

The overriding impression you’re left with following this 1986 performance from Berlin however, is how Taylor’s seeming omnipotent power can bend any group of musicians to his will. Also, as with nearly every Taylor production over the past 40 years, the organization and output of the music on the CD are more singular than what you’d find in any other airing by a nine-piece band.

Divided between one massive -- 52½-minute -- track, unsurprisingly entitled “One”, and a nearly 23-minute encore called “Two”, each tune is organized differently. The second adds various other sounds to a full bore Taylor solo performance; while the first is more of an integrated orchestral showcase, like many of the pianist’s ensemble outings of the past few years.

Monkeyshines in the person of cellist Tristan Honsinger are the distinguishing --and disruptive -- element in both these tracks. For the expatriate American cellist -- who first recorded in trio format with the pianist in 1988 -- clowns around enough instrumentally and vocally to make it appear that he’s second billed on the circus poster. For once Taylor’s distinctive vocal forays and unique keyboard runs come up against japes from someone who can create as quickly as the pianist can and spit out dadaistic vocalizations equally as bizarre as anything from Taylor’s mouth.

That’s another caution: stay away from this CD if you despise the pianist’s vocal exhortations. Not only do they appear infrequently throughout both tracks, but it also takes a good nine minutes of throat clutching, strangled mumbles from Taylor before the distinctive instrumental exposition kicks in.

This is where Honsinger distinguishes himself. Off-and-on sparkplug of Holland’s ICP Orchestras, he knows how to get noticed in a large group and in this one he plays Abbott to Taylor’s Costello -- or is Barnum to his Bailey? His innate verbal theatrics allows him to act in his own psychodrama. Here he spews out unconnected words and phrases that entwine Taylor’s vocal pyrotechnics, at the same time as his cello’s swipes, pulls and double stopping makes their presence felt in the spaces left by the pianist’s full-frontal attack.

Acclaimed master of the solo piano recital since at least the early 1970s, Taylor uses arpeggio runs, key clipping and pressured overtone timbres exactly where he feels they’re needed. He shades different quadrants of the keyboard -- extended with pedal pressure -- at different times, but in no predictable order. Furthermore, on “One”, Honsinger’s arco cello glissandos and triple stops shadow him so closely it’s as if they’re Siamese twins in a midway sideshow display.

Not that the other musicians are idle either. Drummer Jackson Krall, who with bassist Dominic Duval was beginning his stint as the rhythm team in Taylor’s trio emphasizes ratacuses, roughs and rolls when needed, while the bassist becomes a circus strongman, pushing out sonorous four-string propulsion most of the time.

Together and alone, the five hornmen knit together an expansive big top full of exaggerated split tones and particular extended techniques. Somehow it also appears as if the three saxes are able to replicate bassoon and oboe tones as they slide sounds into the mix. Finnish soprano saxophonist Harri Sjöström, who would later become a fulltime members of Taylor’s quartet for a while, may be responsible for this fitting double-reed impersonation; or it may be alto and soprano saxophone man Chris Jonas, later in The Brooklyn Sax Quartet.

There’s no mistaking the serpentine filigree of tenor saxophone’s Elliott Levin, flute work. However, since Levin, who recorded with erstwhile Taylor associate Denis Charles is also a published poet, maybe part of the Bedlam glossolalia here comes from his vocal chords as well. Harsh sharpshooter blasts as well as the odd plunger shake characterize the contributions of trombonist Jeff Hoyer, who has also recorded with avant violinist Leroy Jenkins; while trumpeter Chris Matthay supplies a few bugle call-like showtime fanfares and occasionally a grace note.

Despite the apparent cacophony, every player appears to have his designated part down, and if you listen carefully, you’ll hear each negotiating a particular way through the thicket of mostly cello-bass onslaught. At the end, sharp, short flute squeals extend the melded polyphonic horn parts.

Before that happens Taylor has ranged all over the piano, sometimes investing his octave jumps, arpeggio emphasis and repetitive distinctive patterns with minute snatches of pseudo-stride and a contemporary music overlay.

“Two” -- the encore? -- begins with Taylor exploring the nooks and crannies of the back frame, escarpment, key bed, lyre and soundboard of his instrument, moving from delicate finger pressure to hard blacksmith’s smacks during its first five minutes. Abstrusely, Duval enters on the offbeat and then the horns create counterlines, reverberating off the piano man’s characteristic style. Staccato, Taylor may be pitch- sliding some of the time, but there’s also a blues underpinning that if slowed down and isolated could actually be hard bop. While all this is going on, Honsinger plays legato, and Krall’s cymbals splash. Finally, as the cellist’s output threatens to turn Continentally folksy, the other musicians turn vigorously passionate. Curses, cries and yells ring out from throats, underlined by the occasional drum roll, bass thump and flute whistle. Honsinger sounding out Dadistic syllables serves as the coda.

Welcome to the world of Cecil Taylor.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. One 2. Two

Personnel: Cecil Taylor (piano); Chris Matthay (trumpet); Jeff Hoyer (trombone); Chris Jonas (soprano and alto saxophones); Harri Sjöström (soprano saxophone); Elliott Levin (tenor saxophone, flute); Tristan Honsinger (cello); Dominic Duval (bass); Jackson Krall (drums)

August 4, 2003

ICP ORCHESTRA

Oh, My Dog
ICP 040

MYUMI PROJECT BIG BAND
Rooted: Origins of Now
Southport/Asian Improv S-SSD 0092

Performing with a mid-sized band of improvisers is widespread because it provides freedom both for the composer(s) and the players. Nine plus instruments often provide enough variations to illustrate a writer’s vision; and with fewer than 12 bandmates, musicians can contribute much more than if they’re mere section placeholders.

Small big bands can also be used to express radically different concepts as these skilled CDs demonstrate. Together for almost 30 years, the Dutch ICP Orchestra has featured many different soloists over time, but with laissez faire direction coming from pianist/composer Misha Mengelberg, there’s a consistency there. Tatsu Aoki’s Myumi Project, on the other hand, is mostly a recording ensemble, put together to give flesh to the bassist/composer’s musical portraits of Asian American improvisers in particular and Asians in North America in general.

One of the reasons the ICP has lasted so long is Mengelberg’s anarchistic view of music and refusal to assert himself as leader except by example, a strategy Duke Ellington operated with as well. Then again you wonder if Duke would have had as his closest associates and longest lasting member of the band someone like drummer Han Bennink, who often plays too loudly and seems to relish upsetting regular routines.

OH MY DOG is unique, however because it’s one rare instance where Bennink is forced into a secondary role. That’s because among the many exceptional soloists who now make up the ICP is cellist Tristan Honsinger. A longtime expatriate American who has cycled through the band before, not only is the cellist responsible for the linked compositions that make up the back half of the CD, but between his wild string forays -- arco and pizzicato -- and vocalizations, he makes the usually conspicuous drummer become just another one of his straightmen -- and woman.

Beginning with “Oh my Deer!” and compressing five tracks into a sort of mini-suite, the cellist has the band referencing many countries, styles and musical history. The first tune, for instance starts off with some laughing Classic Jazz trombone smears courtesy of Wolter Wierbos, with the sprightly melody advanced by Honsinger and violinist Mary Oliver sounding as if it’s being played by The New Orleans Ragtime Orchestra. It’s probably versatile Ab Baars who produces the Johnny Dodds-style clarinet lines here, while Bennink reveals his inner Baby Dodds as a two-beat specialist.

A romp between Wierbos and trumpeter Thomas Heberer runs the tune right into the next that features the cellist slicing sounds out of his strings, Satchmo-high brassy notes from the trumpeter and discordant wails from the horn section. Reconstituting the ensemble as a marching band on “Out back/Chickadee”, Honsinger interrupts the musicians’ with a chorus of whistling and growls. This, in turn introduces “Sparking”, that seems unable to make up its mind whether it’s a cha cha or a mazurka. Oliver bends enough notes to send them bouncing all over the place, while Bennink indulges himself in rim shots and the trumpeter appears to presage a bullfight.

All this attains its head in the title tune where the scraped strings play one melody bisected by that pseudo marching band ensemble puffing out “La Marseilles” or perhaps its cousin, “Ghosts”. Following nonsense curses -- in Italian? -- in Dutch? -- someone replicates the sound of a dog barking as Honsinger tells the story of walking through the woods, unsure of what animal he sees. Is it “oh my deer” or “oh my dog”?

That a performance like this fits right into the CD program without an eyebrow being raised shows just what Mengelberg has created with the ICP. Various band members take on different persona during the rest of the CD, with the most impressive exhibitions of polyphonic pandemonium appearing on two group instant compositions: “Travel Agent and the nearly 15½-minute climax,” Happy dreams”.

On the former, it almost appears as if the band is warming up, until Ernst Glerum’s bowed bass and fiddle intimations from Oliver lead the pianist to express himself in full Cecil Taylor keyboard-punishing mode. Vocal cries and slurred whoops from Baars’s tenor can’t disguise the romantic theme, which flirts with modified waltz time. As always, Bennink is banging away as if he’s a little boy trying to get past a locked door, Heberer slurps out some sweet Harry James-like tones and Michael Moore provides a fruity, Earl Bostic style alto solo.

“Happy dreams”, on the other hand, is all plucks, purrs, growls, trills, whines and toots. The strings play staccatissimo, the trombone and saxophones pump out bent notes and switch in and out of movie matinee-style accompaniment, Mengelberg turns to low intensity playing, creating overtones so supine that even the dampers buzz. Duetting with Bennink, who shakes gong and bell tones from his kit, the pianist counters with cascading single notes and a final Chopinesque cadenza.

If OH, MY DOG is disorderly, then ROOTED is just the opposite, depending as it does on one man’s -- Tatsu Aoki’s -- compositional conception. Japanese-born, but a resident of Chicago for nearly half his life, Aoki has established longtime playing situations with such Association for the Advancement of Creative Music as drummer Famadou Don Moye, tenor saxophonist Fred Anderson and baritone saxophonist Mwata Bowden, the last of whom is featured on this disc.

More catholic than ICP projects, this and other Asianimprov projects mix Oriental and Afro-American roots sounds with new ones created when these cultures melt into one another in North America.

Throughout, Aoki uses, and with three others plays, traditional taiko drums, using its ritualistic sound as a continuum. As early as “Part One: Now”, though the sound is interrupted by floating trumpet lines from the late Ameen Muhammad, best known for his association with Ernest Dawkins’ bands, and rhythmic swing from saxophonists Taku Akiyama and Toru Hironaka. Bowden’s Aboriginal digeridoo soon adds a sound distinct from all others, eventually adding to the undercurrent as drums turn to jazz time and the sax and trumpet combine for boppish swing.

Elsewhere, as on “Part Three: 1.5 Generation”, a generic Asian pantatonic scale played by taku or rei bells, gives way to unvarying bass work from Hiroshi Eguchi that reconstitutes the tune as a funky foot tapper. Muhammad gracefully bends notes, Bowden honks out some gritty asides and drummer Mia Park lays on the rock-like rhythm. As the saxman and hornman continue to trade slurred, irregular tones, the unvarying taiko-led percussion beat begins to resemble that of Native American music, and violinist Jonathan Chen adds some electric manipulation.

By the same logic, while Chen’s violin intro on “Part Two; Origin” is based on traditional Chinese music, the result sounds almost Eastern European. The following, highly rhythmic bass solo has the delicacy of a kayagum, but the strength of Oscar Pettiford’s lines. Saxophone expositions chase each other though the piece over a walking bass line, followed by another digeridoo interlude. Wadaiko or Japanese percussion allusions arise from the massed drummers as one bassist -- Aoki likely -- produces bottleneck guitar like pulses. Finally the whole thing ends on an elongated digeridoo tone.

By the time “Part Four: ... of Now, As Well” arrives, you’re so used to the musical disconnect, that when Yoko Noge, who is a Chicago-based blues vocalist, sings the traditional “Jongara Buchi” in Japanese backed by additional violin, cello and taiko accompaniment, it doesn’t sound strange at all. Soon the irregular beat turns to steady jazz time and the horn section begins passing a riff around. Muhammad has a fine, brassy solo as the consolidated percussion put you in mind of primitive washboard bands at times and sophisticated mega-kit rockers at others. Before the tune ended with accelerated percussion rhythm, a disco whistle has been blown, a baritone line has snaked through the proceedings and there’s been a slap-bass break and suggestions of arco filigree.

Small big bands, big ideas: Aoki and Mengelberg easily show what can be done with the right musical ideas -- and right sidepeople -- on these CDs.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Dog: 1. Write down exactly 2. A close encounter with Charles's Country Band 3. Precise dimensions and weight 4. A la Russe 5. Travel agent 6. Ham on air 7. Hand and checked luggage 8. Oh my Deer! 9. Wild turkey 10. Out back/Chickadee 11. Sparkling 12. Oh my dog! 13. Happy dreams

Personnel: Dog: Thomas Heberer (trumpet); Wolter Wierbos (trombone); Ab Baars (clarinet, tenor saxophone); Michael Moore (clarinet, alto saxophone); Mary Oliver (violin and viola); Tristan Honsinger (cello); Misha Mengelberg (piano); Ernst Glerum (bass); Han Bennink (drums)

Track Listing: Rooted: 1. Part One: Now 2. Part Two: Origin+ 3. Part Three: 1.5 Generation 4. Part Four: ... of Now, As Well* 5. Origin: Chamber Version+

Personnel: Rooted: Ameen Muhammad (trumpet, percussion); Taku Akiyama (alto saxophone); Toru Hironaka (tenor saxophone); Mwata Bowden (baritone saxophone, digeridoo); Jonathan Chen (violin, electronics); Tomoko Hayashida (cello*); Satoru Iga (bass*); Hiroshi Eguchi (bass); Tatsu Aoki (bass+, taiko); Ryan Toguri, Hide Yoshihashi and Jason Matsumoto (taiko drums); Mia Park (drums); Yoko Noge (vocal)

June 30, 2003

MICHAEL MOORE

Air Street
between the lines btl 023/EFA 10193-2

Creating impressive chamber jazz is a fiendishly difficult challenge. Play too gently and the sounds begin to resemble background music; play too aggressively and the raison d’être- is gone. Luckily saxophonist and clarinettist Michael Moore has avoided both those pitfalls on this CD.

Of course it helps that his trio is completed by two inventive types, who never allow the parameters of a given form to mute their exuberance. American-born, long-time Dutch resident cellist Tristan Honsinger has been exhibiting his anarchistic tendencies since the 1960s and can even upset established mischief-makers like the members of Misha Mengelberg’s ICP Orchestra, with whom he frequently plays. Younger Dutch keyboardist Cor Fuhler isn’t content to be a fine improvising pianist. He also moonlights with electronic equipment as an eccentric DJ/turntablist and expresses himself on unique home-made inventions, like the keyolin, a two-string violin on a frame, which he plays on this set.

California born, long-time Amsterdam resident Moore is more grounded, but his reach exceeds that of most conventional chamber players -- jazz and classical. Bands he participates in, including the ICP Ork, the since disbanded Clusone 3 and his own Available Jelly, are as likely to play a song by Bob Dylan as Duke Ellington and pay homage to African as well as European and American music.

In a way, with AIR STREET, Moore and the others are extending the advances of clarinettist Jimmy Giuffre -- another Westerner who transplanted himself east -- and whose reeds-piano-bass trio despite its brief life in the 1960s has been highly influential, especially in Europe. Giuffre, though, didn’t partner with the likes of Honsinger and Fuhler. One of the fascinations of the almost 66 minutes of this disc is how Moore, who wrote all but two of the tunes, manages to reign in the other two musicians’ exuberance for the sake of the entire project.

As early as the first track as Moore expels a legit clarinet tone and Fuhler busies himself with semi-classical, romantic piano musings, Honsinger starts audibly mumbling to himself as he plays. Soon he’s grunting and banging on the cello’s face and literally laughing: “ha ha ha ha”. Moore counters with some kazoo-like sounds and aviary honks, and Fuhler goes full bore on both Hammond organ keyboards. By the end the reedist and cellist are buzzing around like angry wasps as Fuhler produces accentuated bottom chords.

Despite using a Hammond, the keyboardist is more 16th century choirmaster Giovanni Palestrina then jazzman Johnny “Hammond” Smith, as he demonstrates on “Still Beating”. Using a swelling, near ecclesiastical drone, he gives the steady arco cello sweeps and clarinet trills a platform upon which to improvise. At times it appears as if the three are uniting to play “Rock A Bye, Baby” until Fuhler varies the drone with what sounds for all the world like a ringing telephone.

A whistling sax mouthpiece enlivens the title track, mixed with ghost-like atonal shrieks from the cello and some koto-like thumb picking from the pianist. Here, as the cellist’s mock fury continues unabated and Moore resorts to tongue slaps to get attention,

Fuhler bangs on the instrument’s sides and begins exploring the piano innards. He mutes the strings and presses down on the sustain pedals so that the muffled notes echo for a protracted period. Alternately, as on “Nobody’s Blues”, when Moore and (surprisingly) Honsinger stick to the regular ranges of their instruments, Fuhler yanks out his keyolin to double stop and create the sound of a string section.

It’s probably the pianist’s home invention that produces the flute-like string parts on “De Ford”, Moore’s tribute to harmonica whiz De Ford Bailey. Then, appropriately enough, as the strings mesh, the reedman detaches the mouthpiece from his clarinet and begins whistling through it, producing a spirit-like harmonica sound. Outside of the billy-goat whinnies the black stick produces a few times elsewhere, it’s probably the oddest inflection he gets from his instrument and shows just how dissonantly he could play, if he wasn’t the voice -- or sound -- of moderation on this disc.

All of these strands are tied together in Honsinger’s “Ladida”. A compendium of sounds and effects, it starts with a dark, reed-biting bleat from the clarinet, that subsides into glissando trills, while the cellist plucks at his instrument like a bass guitar and the pianist sounds as if he’s tuning his instrument. Soon through, the three are jointly sounding out a gigue-like pastoral melody so realistically that Honsinger conjures up the image of a cartoon violinist in the midst of playing a concerto, all rapt expression and flying curls and coat tails. The theme then downpedals into waltz time, which is just as quickly deconstructed. By the coda Moore is alternately dipping into his chalumeau register or honking like a bar-walking baritone saxist; the cellist creating legit arpeggios upon arpeggios; and Fuhler somehow Scruggs picking on his keyolin.

Looking for chameleon chamber music? You’ve come to the right place.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Train Chords/Spiky-Haired Boy/Mule Standing in Field 2. Participants 3. Air Street 4. Nobody’s Blues 5. Laddida 6. Basket 7. Still Beating 8. Related to Harry 9. De Ford 10. Eyes Fixed 11. Freies Geleit

Personnel: Michael Moore (clarinet, bass clarinet, alto saxophone, bird calls); Cor Fuhler (piano, keyolin, Hammond organ); Tristan Honsinger (cello)

November 4, 2002

STEVE BERESFORD/TRISTAN HONSINGER

Imitation of Life/Double Indemnity Atavistic Unheard Music
UMS/ALP 224

STEVE BERESFORD/PAT THOMAS/VERYAN WESTON
3 Pianos
EMANEM 4064

Versatile from the get go, since moving to London in 1974,

multi-instrumentalist Steve Beresford has probably been involved in more undertakings than any other British improviser.

Although he’s a full-fledged member of the jazz/improv community with appearances at guitarist Derek Bailey’s Company week and recording sessions with the likes of saxophonist Evan Parker and drummer Han Bennink -- among many others -- on his resumé, he hasn’t limited himself to that. Over the years he has also been a member of punk and reggae bands, created middle-of- the-road pop music, and fully scored music for film, TV, dance groups and corporations. Additionally, he has taught audio production, piano and improvisation at different times and places, as well as produced CDs for other free improvisers.

These discs, recorded more than 20 years apart cinematically expose the three faces of Steve. Reissued and expanded from two LPs released on Y, the London-based punk label in 1980 and 1981, the Atavistic CD features the pianist in duet with skewed American expatriate cellist Tristan Honsinger on most tracks. The others reprise the second LP, adding Japanese trumpeter Toshinori Kondo and British multi-instrumentalist David Troop. Since the venue lacked a piano, Beresford instead plays what he calls bags of other instruments, including an euphonium, a flugelhorn, a siren, a metal violin, a Winfield organ, a toy electric guitar and a bass guitar.

In 2001, however, Beresford is one of three improvisers recorded on three grand pianos in a London studio. His confreres here are his near contemporary Veryan Weston and slightly younger Pat Thomas. Although all 264 keys are often put into action, the chances of anyone confusing the disc for a Ferrante and Teicher or a Roger Williams session writ large are remote indeed.

Playing in the early 1980s with the formerly all-female punkettes The Slits, the pianist’s association resulted in these diverting improv sessions appearing on a punk label. Like nearly all attempts to mix free improv with any sort of rock music from prog to punk, the response was underwhelming. Honsinger, Beresford et. al may have been noisy and entertaining, but they ignored any conventional beat and sloganeering lyrics. The punks may have wanted “Anarchy In The U.K.” all right, but only as part of the existing music business, distributed by major labels and with proper accounting. For example, Rough Trade, the oh-so-hip initial distributor of Y records was so outraged that the disc could be made so quickly that the owners suggested the LPs sell for lees than normal price. So much for DIY and standing up to the establishment.

Of course that didn’t stop the four improvisers from having a good time producing a session of disorganized anarchy in the Boys Just Wanna Have Fun ethos of the time. Had the punks a sense of humor, they would have recognized that Honsinger’s antics easily put their imitation teenage rebellion in its place.

Wondering around Europe following an earlier stint in Montreal, having decided that American military concepts weren’t for him, the cellist had already begun his one-again-off-again association with Holland’s anarchistic ICP orchestra that continues to this day. In London, no matter who else is playing, he seems to be going very much his own way. And if that disrupts the proceedings, so much the better.

On the first number, for instance, he appears to be playing “Comin’ Through The Rye” at one point, sawing away on a polka at another, plucking out strange patterns and burlesquing “My Darling Clementine” elsewhere. He whistles, baas like a sheep, quacks like a duck and moos like a cow -- or is that Kondo’s trumpet? -- and even appears to be tap dancing. Then suddenly he begins shouting “I didn’t do it. Don’t take it out on me.” Later on, after a sudden silence has been succeeded by Troop playing a bass guitar line that sounds like the beginning of The Animals’ “We Gotta Get Outta This Place” the tune is expanded by trumpet obbligatos before Honsinger begins singing in French. Soon afterwards he’s yelling: “Lend me a dollar” to no one in particular.

Here and elsewhere Troop seems to be trying to keep things together by vamping on a flute line or strumming conventional (in this setting) electric guitar. Kondo adds some growls, gargles and stratospheric blasts, not to mention the odd percussive scratches and rattles. Meanwhile Beresford tosses around his literal bag of tricks, creating a retching reverb from his euphonium, metallic tinkles from what sounds like a toy xylophone or toy piano, not to mention some Hawaiian-style shudders from his toy guitar. Tying up the simian shouts and scratched cacophony into a package that ends with what appears to be an elongated solo on the spoons and a few squeaks from what sound like plush toys, the four easily prove how punks were too musically conventional to accept free improv.

In duo Honsinger and Beresford are almost as out-of-control, but at least the later has a bigger, many-keyed, metaphoric stick with which to beat off the cellist’s lunacy. Not that the motor mouthed, nervous foot-tapper is tranquilized. On “Pre-echo”, for instance Honsinger begins sawing away madly while talking about going to the barber and a friend making a salad. Beresford’s response is flugelhorn blasts and a few smashes of the piano lid. Canine howls escape from the flugel on “Stolen Time”, the better to counter Honsinger humming along with his cello like Slam Stewart after a protracted session of ECT.

Still, as the cellist effortlessly showcases arco and pizzicato legerdemain in all registers, as the pianist barrels ahead in a style that shirts from frenzied to free in a nanosecond, you can easily hear the method behind the collective madness.

Moving from the positively ridiculous to the sublime, Beresford gets to match wits and finger tips with two other BritImprov keyboard specialists. The game plan involves nine trios, three of which individually involve rules set by each of the players, a duet with Beresford and each of the other pianists, plus a Weston-Thomas duet.

After a hesitant start the three use clipped tones to carve out separate places for themselves on the keyboard and elsewhere. Not one is averse to diving into the instrument’s innards, excavating warbling trills, harp glissandos and steel guitar strums. Key are dampened and deadened as small balls, paper and other foreign objects are introduced. At times no one seems to be sounding the keys, other times, with a stop-and-start motion, phrases and phrasing are tossed back and forth as the performances slow down and then speed up again.

Sporadically with 30 fingers in use the outcome gets very busy and dense as all appear to hitting the same notes a half-step or so apart. Noticing this, they immediately switch gears and begin creating three variations of the melody or three variations on three melodies or three medleys out of the variations. Chords, notes and motifs seem to move by faster than the speed of sound, though at intervals what could be snatches of familiar tunes appear. As you can hear, this involves a lot more than three guys harmonizing on “Heart And Soul” or “Honky Tonk Train”.

With embellishments varying from rococo to rapid and from fastidious to freedom sounds, it’s hard to imagine a better showcase to show how experienced freeform improvisers can cooperate, yet maintain a distinct representation of their talents.

Exposing three of Beresford’s pianist personalities on these discs confirms that one can be a master of many as well as a jack -- or Steve -- of all trades.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Imitation: 1. Out-take F 2. Out-take B 3. Imitation of life Side One* 4. Say hello to the cello 5. Pre-echo 6. Stolen Time 7. Imitation of life Side Two*

Personnel: Imitation: Toshinori Kondo* (trumpet, voice, mutes, rattles, small instruments); Steve Beresford (euphonium, flugelhorn, siren, metal violin, Winfield

organ, toy electric guitar, bass guitar, automatic instruments, small instruments); David Toop* (electric guitar, bass guitar, flute, alto flute, wooden flutes, small instruments); Tristan Honsinger (cello, voice, whistling, violin)

Track Listing: 3 Pianos: 1. ACOrn 2. ATLas 3. HOGarth 4. FLAxman 5. FREmantle 6. VIGilant 7. RIPpleway 8. ELGar 9. WEStern 10. BERmondsey 11. THOrnton heath 12. SPEedwell

Personnel: 3 Pianos: Steve Beresford, Pat Thomas, Veryan Weston (pianos)

February 1, 2002

MISHA MENGELBERG

Solo
Buzz ZZ 76012

ICP ORCHESTRA
Jubilee Varia
hatology 528

Comparisons are odious, but if anyone could be characterized as the Thelonious Monk of Europe it would be Dutch pianist/composer Misha Mengelberg. Headman of the little recorded Instant Composers Pool Orchestra, he's also the theoretician behind the creative musical irony which underlines much of what we know as post modern Dutch --and by extension -- European jazz.

Suddenly, though, we have two ways to appreciate Mengelberg's art, discs that could be the 1990s versions of MONK'S MUSIC and THELONIOUS HIMSELF. In fact, on the orchestra CD, you could even say that the pianist has his own Art Blakey in long-time drummer-collaborator Han Bennink and, to stretch the point even further, his own John Coltrane in saxophonist/clarinetist An Baars.

But comparisons can only go so far. Mengelberg can merely be compared to Monk because like Thelonious he never imitates anyone else. A 65 year old European, he's steeped in the classical tradition that naturally inhabit his creations, the same way gospel songs and stride piano are sewn into Monk's musical fabric.

This is more obvious on SOLO, where a certain half-serious Continental formalism creeps into some of the performances, where it gets mixed with an early Tin Pan Alley sensibility. "Koekoek", for instance, is much closer to a 18th century jig than a 1920s slow drag and "Wok Afhaal" almost sounds like a piano lesson gone mad, with Mengelberg leaping from the very highest to the very lowest keys of the instrument. "Knebus", on the other hand -- although much more outrightly harmonious -- resembles Monk's takes on early 20th century pop songs.

Is the intentional literal heavy-handedness on "Salz" intended as a salute to Monk? Maybe. In particular sections there the pianist almost sounds as if he's physically bending the keyboard to follow his ideas. Still, it resembles Thelonious' conception a lot more than "Bill Evans En Dàn" sounds like Bill Evans. And what about "Boezimann"? Although it look as if it's named for Mengelberg's one time trio partner, saxophonist Peter Brötzmann, the improvisations here move back and forth from blues to pseudo show tune music, not exactly the German saxophonist's forté.

Possibly it's best not to try to understand Mengelberg too quickly, but instead listen to the album repeatedly to probe its nuances.

The situation get a little more complicated on JUBILEE VARIA, since Mengelberg is not only a soloist and composer, but also the ringmaster of a circus tent full of distinctive -- and pretty anarchistic -- personalities. Consider the trumpet asides and consistent string undertones that sound like a buzzing refrigerator which underline the most tender passages on "A Bit Nervous Jealous? Me?" or cellist Reijseger suddenly deciding his instrument is a guitar and starting to pluck it that way on "Next Subject". Later on the same tune Wierbos injects a few horse whinnies into his solo before concluding with some velvety phrases. Moreover are those snatches of a Kurt Weill opera coming from the strings on the same tune, or is it a Dutch version of a hoe-down? Here at last Baars gets to let loose on a bombastic Trane-ride, but the explosions are on the traditional clarinet, not the modern jazz-associated saxophone.

Plus there's always Bennink with whom to contend. Rhythm may be his business, but that doesn't mean that there has to be any particular pattern other than his own talents to what he plays. Some might even claim that he goes out of his way to confuse the frontline with odd emphasis and unexpected snare drum attacks. Thus, since the soloists themselves are told to only use Mengelberg's tunes as guides for their own desires -- this is the instant composers pool after all -- something like "Rollo I" may end up barely resembling the Teutonic tango melody that Heberer is trying to play at the beginning.

The composer himself is guilty of sonic subterfuge as well. Note the crafty, out-of-left-field accents he tosses into "Rollo I" and how he feints, fades and frolics when facing Bennink alone on "Jubilee Varia 1".

Like Monk's music in general, anything put on disc by Mengelberg and the ICP Orchestra is a rare commodity that should be treasured. Discover that yourself.

-- Ken Waxman

Solo: Track Listing: 1. Boodschappenlijst IV 2. Koekoek Richard Wagner Gewidmet: 3. Reef 4. Knebus 5. Salz 6. Ik Heb Een Turquoise Muts 7. Wok Afhaal 8. Bill Evans En Dàn 9. Boezimann

Personnel: Misha Mengelberg (piano)

Jubilee: Track Listing: Jubilee Varia Suite: 1. 2. 3. Jealousy Suite: 4. A Bit Nervous Jealous? Me? 5. Next Subject 6. Rollo I

Personnel: Thomas Herberer (trumpet); Wolter Wierbos (trombone); Ab Baars (clarinet, tenor saxophone); Michael Moore (clarinet, alto saxophone); Ernst Reijseger, Tristan Honsinger (cello); Misha Mengelberg (piano); Ernst Glerum (bass); Han Bennink (drums)

September 20, 2000