Rhapsody's 2011 Jazz Critics' Poll

Individual Ballot
From Ken Waxman

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

2) Ken Waxman

Jazz Word (www.jazzword.com )

3) Your choices for 2011's ten best new releases (albums released between Thanksgiving 2010 and Thanksgiving 2011, give or take), listed in descending order one-through-ten.

1. World Saxophone Quartet Yes We Can Jazzwerkstatt JW 098

2. Gerald Cleaver Uncle June Be It As I See It Fresh Sound New Talent FSNT-375

3. Hubbub Whobub Matchless MRCD 80

4. John Butcher & Gino Robair Apophenia Rastascan BRD 065

5. Daunik Lazro/Benjamin Duboc/Didier Lasserre Pourtant Les Cimes des Arbres Dark Tree DT 01

6. Marc Ducret Tower Vol. 2 Ayler Records AYLCD 119

7. Mural Live at the Rothko Chapel Rothko Chapel Publications No #

8. Connie Crothers/Bill Payne The Stone Set/Conversations New Artists NA 1044 CD

9. Schlippenbach Trio Bauhaus Dessau Intakt CD 183

10. Jamaaladeen Tacuma/Ornette Coleman For the Love of Ornette JazzWerkstatt JW 090

4) Your top-three reissues, again listed in descending order

1) FMP In Rückblick In Retrospect 1969-2010 FMP CD 137 - FMP CD 148

2) Steve Lacy School Days Emanem 5016

3) Sun Ra College Tour Vol. 1 The Complete Nothing Is… ESP Disk4060

5) Your choice for the year's best vocal album

There is none – 99% of so-called vocal jazz is no more than often superior pop music, if that.

6) Your choice for the year's best debut CD

Jaruzelski’s Dream-debut Jazz Gawronski Clean Feed CF 211CD

7) Your choice for the year’s best Latin jazz CD

Agustí Fernández & Joan Saura Vents psi 11.01

N.B.: Why is there a Latin-Jazz category if there isn’t a category for other hyphenated jazz music such as Klezmer-Jazz, Pop-Jazz, Classical-Jazz etc.? An exceptional so-called Latin-Jazz CD should be a good Jazz CD overall. Therefore I have chosen the best 2011 improvised CD played by two Latins – that is residents of Spain.

January 20, 2012

Festival Report:

Météo Music Festival August 23 to August 27 2011
By Ken Waxman

Météo means weather in French, and one notable aspect of this year’s Météo Music Festival which takes place in Mulhouse, France, was the weather. It’s a testament to the high quality of the creative music there that audiences throughout the five days were without exception quiet and attentive despite temperatures in non air-conditioned concert spaces that hovered around the high 90sF. More dramatically, one afternoon a sudden freak thunderstorm created an unexpected crescendo to a hushed, spatial performance, by the Greek-Welsh Cranc trio of cellist Nikos Veliotis, harpist Rhodri Davies and violinist Angharad Davies, when winds violently blew ajar the immense wooden front door of Friche DMC, a former thread factory, causing glass to shatter and fall nosily.

Luckily other Météo highlights were strictly of the musical variety, some taking place in first-time festival venues. Two mammoth churches hosted improvised pipe organ concerts; a library presented brief children’s concerts; the city’s Belle Époque theatre showcased formal concerts by vocal-oriented trios; a soon-to-be demolished parking garage showcased a reunion of two British free music pioneers; and major documentaries about Germany’s tenor saxophonist Peter Brötzmann and France’s baritone saxophonist Daunik Lazro were screened at the Cinéma Le Palace.

Lazro performed in person one noon hour in the 12th Century Chapelle Saint-Jean. Here his unique reed projections which move from juddering altissimo cries to percussive tongue slaps and dark, echoing renal growls met the shrilling reed quivers and vocal retches, pants and cackles of French clarinetist/vocalist Isabelle Duthoit for a magnificent display of in-the-moment conceptualism. Besides this chapel, the other regular Météo site was the Noumatrouff. This funky space is mostly for rock shows, a role it seemed to revert to one night when Dutch punk-jazzers The Ex unrolled an enthusiastic set, featuring a vamping horn section. With chairs removed that one time to create a dance floor, enthusiastic fans swayed or pogoed, with the vibe contrasting markedly with the cerebral solemnity of other pure improv shows.

That’s seriousness, not humourlessness though. French bassist Joëlle Léandre for instance, in a premier meeting with cellist Vincent Courtois at the Noumatrouff, added episodes of near-vaudeville to the duo’s profound and classically-tinged improvising. While his timbres often resulted from stentorian plucks, strumming the instrument horizontally strumming like a blues guitarist, or creating spiccato pulses by rubbing two bows on the strings, Léandre’s inimitable improvising encompassed more the string sleight-of-hands. Sometimes miming as she loudly popped the strings or vocalizing both basso and bel canto as she played, Léandre rubbed her bow all over the bass, kicked it the odd time, kissed it in supplication, eventually lowering the bass and herself downwards as she played, ending the set with both she and the instrument lying on the stage.

If Léandre’s performance was the most theatrical, she wasn’t the only bassist to make an impact. Rappelling and leaping jack-in-the-box-like over his strings to prod florid double stops or striking them resolutely with a stick, Briton Barry Guy consolidated the approaches a trio with Catalan pianist Agusti Fernandez and Spanish drummer Ramon Lopez evolved during its set at the Noumatrouff. Splattering rhythms from his cymbals, bongo and conga plus shaking wooden rattles, the drummer wasn’t overly assertive, but went his own way. So did the pianist, whose internal string plucks showed up as often as elbow and forearm keyboard rhythms or in a turnaround, romantic glissandi. The three were sequentially chamber music players performing a sonata, sound explorers or a hot jazz band trading fours

Muscularly buzzing rhythms, plucking above and below the bridge, British bassist John Edwards joined drummer Steve Noble and guitarist Alex Ward as N.E.W., an improv version of a rock power trio during Météo’s concluding concert. As Noble slapped mallets full force on his snares or broke-up the beat by vibrating Chinese cymbals and a gong on drum tops, Ward ripped out staccato slide-guitar flanges. What jazz-rock could have been if it hadn’t degenerated into 1970s formula, N.E.W. earned two tumultuous encores. Just as powerful in execution was French bassist David Chiesa’s methodical plucks in a chamber-music-like situation with violinist Mathieu Werchowski at Chapelle Saint-Jean. Chiesa not only plucked thickly to back the fliddler’s spacious spiccato angling, but displayed cunning pumps and stops himself.

Low-string double duty was the role of Sydney-resident-turned Berliner, Clayton Thomas, who elsewhere assayed a children’s concert. During different night at Noumatrouff, his pressured bow and object string-sawing and chunky plucks not only anchored the sound pictures invoked by the Berlin Sound Connective of alto saxophonist Thomas Ankersmit, turntablist Ignaz Schick and percussionist Burkhard Beins plus off-stage mixing by France’s Jérôme Noetinger; but also made tremolo pops as the solid centre of The Ames Room, an obdurate free-jazz ensemble with bass-drum pounding fellow Aussie, Will Guthrie and Parisian Jean-Luc Guionnet. Guionnet’s tension-laden alto saxophone multiphonics only vaguely related to the sputtering but distant timbre washes he showcased at an afternoon church pipe-organ performance.

Unlike Guionnet’s blaring reed expression, Ankersmit’s irregular vibratos were eclipsed by Beins’ Styrofoam rubs and cymbal thrusts and Schick platter scraping and radio-static mixes. Other saxophonists were more upfront. Like Lazro, except using a soprano, French saxophonist Michel Doneda distilled an ever-shifting collection of flat-line air, gruff vibratos, flattement and piercing multiphonics into a timbral foil to Japanese-American Tatsuya Nakatani’s peerless percussion moves that involved rattles, cymbal slams, gong reverberation, soft mallet smacks and using his lips and mouth on drum tops to produce ratcheting timbres.

Another rewarding sax exposition came from Paris altoist Christine Abdelnour in an afternoon duo with Berlin pianist Magda Mayas, following a sweaty climb of four sets of stairs leading to the top floor of the abandoned Garage Sax. As spatially oriented as Cranc’s concert, but warmer (musically) in execution, the two slapped and clattered a series of minimalist timbres into an undulating whole. As Abdelnour alternated between sounding juddering squeaks, trouser-leg-muted textures, horizontally blown, mouthpiece suckles and undulating split tones, Mayas industriously applied a mallet to the piano strings, snaked a fish line through them stopped keyboard vibrations manually and used friction for distinctive scrapped note clusters.

Mayas was proving her take on the sort of inventive prepared and standard piano lines John Tilbury pioneered. His performance with pioneering table-top guitarist Keith Rowe, following the Mayas-Abdelnour’s set was another instance of the prototypical sonic textures Rowe and Tilbury have weaved and together for more than four decades. With the pianist’s distinct leitmotif of knife-edge patterns, key stopping and tremolo chording melded with the guitarist’s measured, flat-key plucks, constant electronic drone and bursts of radio-tuned voices and static, Tilbury and Rowe made it appear that outside bird songs and church bell-tolling were an expected part of their mesmerizing, strategy. When the open-ended sounds faded away, everyone was convinced that the duo had rendered a matchless performance, although no one could detail just how it had been done.

Something similar could be said about the Météo Music Festival. Year after year artistic prescience and organizational smarts combine for a smooth-running and musically sophisticated sound feast with evolves seamlessly.

--For New York City Jazz Record October 2011

October 10, 2011

Joe Morris/Agustí Fernández

Ambrosia
Riti CD11

Agustí Fernández & Joan Saura

Vents

psi 11.01

Evans/Fernández/Gustafsson

Kopros Lithos

Multikulti Project MP 1013

Augustí Fernández/Barry Guy/Ramón López

Morning Glory

Maya Records MCD 1001

By Ken Waxman

Over the past 15 years Catalan pianist Augustí Fernández has become the most celebrated pianist – if not complete improviser – from his part of the world. In many ways he’s the successor to pianist Tete Montoliu (1933-1997). But while Montoliu was a bopper, Fernández doesn’t limit himself to one style, as this quatrtet of memorable discs makes evident.

A frequent associate of experimental improvisers from Parker (William) to Parker (Evan), the pianist also has a neo-traditional side, reflected by Morning Glory. Recorded in Spain and New York, this two-CD set is a spiky take on the jazz piano trio, with Fernández’s partners British bassist Barry Guy and Spanish percussionist Ramón López. More atonal is Kopros Lithos, whose experimental textures arrive courtesy of the pianist, American trumpeter Peter Evans and the baritone saxophone and alto fluteophone of Swede Mats Gustafsson. As founders of the Improvisadors de Barcelona Orchestra, Fernández has often worked with live electronics and sampler player Joan Saura. Vents is a rare duo session from the two.

Created in studio over an eight month period, Vents’ tracks are so much a part of the electro-acoustic world that it’s difficult to remember that Fernández is playing acoustic piano. Then again the keyboardist is a master of the timbres that can be bowed, plucked and strummed from internal strings, usually prepared with vibrating objects, and his expressions mate perfectly with the austere flanges and oscillations shrilled, reverberated or crunched by Saura’s electric implements. Throughout the performances onomatopoeically reflect both meaning of vent: an expression of pent-up emotion and an opening for the escape of gas to release pressure.

Although reductionist and disconnected, most of the tracks are remarkable in the way that Fernández’s tough keyboard pressure and popping internal strings add a needed humanity to Saura’s radiator-like hisses, motor-driven grinding and crackling sound patches. This is easily demonstrated on a track such as “Llevant”, with its shifting tonal centres.

On the other hand, Ambrosia is not your parents’ guitar-piano duo. It put a post-modern cast on the proceedings as Fernández matches wits with guitarist Joe Morris. Morris, who now often works as a bassist, at times manages to translate the low timbre of the four-string to his six-string. That means that echoes of double bass accompaniment is present while the guitarist showcases spiky, single-string action. On a tune such as “Ambrosia 1”, the two languidly complement one another even while distending the theme. Morris’ frails speed up to the point that they’re eventually bouncing from strings below the bridge and on the neck, while Fernández concentrated in swirling and contrasting dynamics à la Cecil Taylor.

Even though legato passages and harmonies are at a minimum, some of the tracks on this magisterial six-part suite don’t turn away from unintentional delicacy. “Ambrosia 3”, for instance, is built on gentle single-note clicking from the pianist, amplified by palm-pumps which create vibes-like tones from the guitarist. However, if some tracks come across as a discordant aural version of greyhound racing with Fernández chord-spraying as quickly as Morris string snaps, the two are able to intermingle such tactics as soundboard echoes from the pianist and slurred fingering from the guitarist to promote sophisticated parallel improvising.

Morning Glory is also wedded to acoustic expression. The CD’s 19 tracks, especially those recorded live at Jazz Standard, could be an updating of Bill Evans’ celebrated Village Vanguard sets. With his perfectly formed notes, Fernández makes his composition “David M” a piano showcase with deep ruminations in the instrument’s middle register. A swinging, near lullaby, it’s also notable for Guy’s slippery modulations that are unabashedly tonic. Barely there, with understated bounces on this track, López further exhibits his sensitive touch throughout. He confirms it on a tune such as “Don Miquel”, where his nervy tom-tom pulse and cymbal scrapes unite with the pianist’s methodical keyboard strumming to gorgeously frame Guy’s solo. Almost so-called classical in execution, the bassist manages to create two different sounds with his bow, before exciting with hand-pinched lines.

There’s a faint Latin tinge to “Don Miquel”, carried over from Fernández’s “Aurora” on the other CD. An Iberian take on Hispanic rhythms, the tremolo patterns reveal many notes in rapid succession, yet the line stretches enough to keep the impressionistic theme chromatic. Guy’s retort features scrapped and stropped strings, while the percussion undertow is mostly rim shots and what sounds like the hand-crushing of crisp paper.

Other pieces expose more abrasive back-and-forth group impov, often at lightning-quick speeds. At points Fernández’s choruses echo from the piano’s lower quadrant or he jabs at the keys while Guy bows. A perfect example of this strategy occurs on “Pepetuum Mobile” as the pianist’s chording evolves in double counterpoint with either Guy’s dobro-like twangs or bow taps against his instrument’s wood. As in most other instances, the drummer’s accompaniment is understated.

There’s no percussion on Kopros Lithos, but that doesn’t stop it from being the most stentorian of the three sets. Between Evans’ flighty squeals and wide-bore grace notes plus Gustafsson’s verbal shouts, tongue slaps and growls from his baritone sax, there’s enough discordance to go around. On a track such as “You displaced me by your singing”, Fernández adds to the general din by continuously rubbing and plucking his piano strings as well as clattering various objects placed upon them. At the same time it’s his methodical key-stopping which guides the trumpeter’s tongue fluttering and the saxophonist’s metal-scrapping honks to a more melodic interface.

Perhaps those connective timbres from the keyboard also define the message behind another track title: “My fingers were glue”. Certainly Fernández’s pressure firmly shapes the parallel improvising from the horns. Here Evans buzzes and whinnies as if a metal sheet is pressed against his horn’s bell, while Gustafsson contributes high velocity snorts and brays.

Fernández’s pianistic control while improvising in a non-conventional manner is a tribute to his skill. It’s also another indication why any and all of these discs are satisfying listens.

Tracks: Tramuntana; Gregal; Garbí; Migjorn; Xaloc; Mestral; Ponent; Llevant

Personnel: Agustí Fernández: piano; Joan Saura: sampling keyboard and live electronics

Tracks: You displaced me by your singing; My ears were ringing!; My fingers were glue; As each note rang true

Personnel: Peter Evans: trumpet; Mats Gustafsson: baritone saxophone and alto fluteophone; Agustí Fernández: piano

Tracks: CD1: Morning Glory: La niña de la calle Ibiza; Morning Glory; Unfinished Letter; Zahorí; An Anonymous Soul; Perpetuum Mobile; Benito (Jordi Benito in absentia); The Magical Chorus; Glade; Mourning; A Sudden Appearance; Belvedere; CD2: Live in New York: Don Miquel; Odyssey; Can Ram; David M; Aurora; No ni Nó; Rounds

Personnel: Agustí Fernández: piano; Barry Guy: bass; Ramón López: drums and percussion

Tracks: Ambrosia 1; Ambrosia 2; Ambrosia3; Ambrosia 4; Ambrosia 5; Ambrosia 6

Personnel: Augusti Fernandez: piano; Joe Morris: guitar

--For New York City Jazz Record July 2011

July 7, 2011

Agustí Fernández & Joan Saura

Vents
psi 11.01

Evans/Fernández/Gustafsson

Kopros Lithos

Multikulti Project MP 1013

Augustí Fernández/Barry Guy/Ramón López

Morning Glory

Maya Records MCD 1001

Joe Morris/Agustí Fernández

Ambrosia

Riti CD11

By Ken Waxman

Over the past 15 years Catalan pianist Augustí Fernández has become the most celebrated pianist – if not complete improviser – from his part of the world. In many ways he’s the successor to pianist Tete Montoliu (1933-1997). But while Montoliu was a bopper, Fernández doesn’t limit himself to one style, as this quatrtet of memorable discs makes evident.

A frequent associate of experimental improvisers from Parker (William) to Parker (Evan), the pianist also has a neo-traditional side, reflected by Morning Glory. Recorded in Spain and New York, this two-CD set is a spiky take on the jazz piano trio, with Fernández’s partners British bassist Barry Guy and Spanish percussionist Ramón López. More atonal is Kopros Lithos, whose experimental textures arrive courtesy of the pianist, American trumpeter Peter Evans and the baritone saxophone and alto fluteophone of Swede Mats Gustafsson. As founders of the Improvisadors de Barcelona Orchestra, Fernández has often worked with live electronics and sampler player Joan Saura. Vents is a rare duo session from the two.

Created in studio over an eight month period, Vents’ tracks are so much a part of the electro-acoustic world that it’s difficult to remember that Fernández is playing acoustic piano. Then again the keyboardist is a master of the timbres that can be bowed, plucked and strummed from internal strings, usually prepared with vibrating objects, and his expressions mate perfectly with the austere flanges and oscillations shrilled, reverberated or crunched by Saura’s electric implements. Throughout the performances onomatopoeically reflect both meaning of vent: an expression of pent-up emotion and an opening for the escape of gas to release pressure.

Although reductionist and disconnected, most of the tracks are remarkable in the way that Fernández’s tough keyboard pressure and popping internal strings add a needed humanity to Saura’s radiator-like hisses, motor-driven grinding and crackling sound patches. This is easily demonstrated on a track such as “Llevant”, with its shifting tonal centres.

On the other hand, Ambrosia is not your parents’ guitar-piano duo. It put a post-modern cast on the proceedings as Fernández matches wits with guitarist Joe Morris. Morris, who now often works as a bassist, at times manages to translate the low timbre of the four-string to his six-string. That means that echoes of double bass accompaniment is present while the guitarist showcases spiky, single-string action. On a tune such as “Ambrosia 1”, the two languidly complement one another even while distending the theme. Morris’ frails speed up to the point that they’re eventually bouncing from strings below the bridge and on the neck, while Fernández concentrated in swirling and contrasting dynamics à la Cecil Taylor.

Even though legato passages and harmonies are at a minimum, some of the tracks on this magisterial six-part suite don’t turn away from unintentional delicacy. “Ambrosia 3”, for instance, is built on gentle single-note clicking from the pianist, amplified by palm-pumps which create vibes-like tones from the guitarist. However, if some tracks come across as a discordant aural version of greyhound racing with Fernández chord-spraying as quickly as Morris string snaps, the two are able to intermingle such tactics as soundboard echoes from the pianist and slurred fingering from the guitarist to promote sophisticated parallel improvising.

Morning Glory is also wedded to acoustic expression. The CD’s 19 tracks, especially those recorded live at Jazz Standard, could be an updating of Bill Evans’ celebrated Village Vanguard sets. With his perfectly formed notes, Fernández makes his composition “David M” a piano showcase with deep ruminations in the instrument’s middle register. A swinging, near lullaby, it’s also notable for Guy’s slippery modulations that are unabashedly tonic. Barely there, with understated bounces on this track, López further exhibits his sensitive touch throughout. He confirms it on a tune such as “Don Miquel”, where his nervy tom-tom pulse and cymbal scrapes unite with the pianist’s methodical keyboard strumming to gorgeously frame Guy’s solo. Almost so-called classical in execution, the bassist manages to create two different sounds with his bow, before exciting with hand-pinched lines.

There’s a faint Latin tinge to “Don Miquel”, carried over from Fernández’s “Aurora” on the other CD. An Iberian take on Hispanic rhythms, the tremolo patterns reveal many notes in rapid succession, yet the line stretches enough to keep the impressionistic theme chromatic. Guy’s retort features scrapped and stropped strings, while the percussion undertow is mostly rim shots and what sounds like the hand-crushing of crisp paper.

Other pieces expose more abrasive back-and-forth group impov, often at lightning-quick speeds. At points Fernández’s choruses echo from the piano’s lower quadrant or he jabs at the keys while Guy bows. A perfect example of this strategy occurs on “Pepetuum Mobile” as the pianist’s chording evolves in double counterpoint with either Guy’s dobro-like twangs or bow taps against his instrument’s wood. As in most other instances, the drummer’s accompaniment is understated.

There’s no percussion on Kopros Lithos, but that doesn’t stop it from being the most stentorian of the three sets. Between Evans’ flighty squeals and wide-bore grace notes plus Gustafsson’s verbal shouts, tongue slaps and growls from his baritone sax, there’s enough discordance to go around. On a track such as “You displaced me by your singing”, Fernández adds to the general din by continuously rubbing and plucking his piano strings as well as clattering various objects placed upon them. At the same time it’s his methodical key-stopping which guides the trumpeter’s tongue fluttering and the saxophonist’s metal-scrapping honks to a more melodic interface.

Perhaps those connective timbres from the keyboard also define the message behind another track title: “My fingers were glue”. Certainly Fernández’s pressure firmly shapes the parallel improvising from the horns. Here Evans buzzes and whinnies as if a metal sheet is pressed against his horn’s bell, while Gustafsson contributes high velocity snorts and brays.

Fernández’s pianistic control while improvising in a non-conventional manner is a tribute to his skill. It’s also another indication why any and all of these discs are satisfying listens.

Tracks: Tramuntana; Gregal; Garbí; Migjorn; Xaloc; Mestral; Ponent; Llevant

Personnel: Agustí Fernández: piano; Joan Saura: sampling keyboard and live electronics

Tracks: You displaced me by your singing; My ears were ringing!; My fingers were glue; As each note rang true

Personnel: Peter Evans: trumpet; Mats Gustafsson: baritone saxophone and alto fluteophone; Agustí Fernández: piano

Tracks: CD1: Morning Glory: La niña de la calle Ibiza; Morning Glory; Unfinished Letter; Zahorí; An Anonymous Soul; Perpetuum Mobile; Benito (Jordi Benito in absentia); The Magical Chorus; Glade; Mourning; A Sudden Appearance; Belvedere; CD2: Live in New York: Don Miquel; Odyssey; Can Ram; David M; Aurora; No ni Nó; Rounds

Personnel: Agustí Fernández: piano; Barry Guy: bass; Ramón López: drums and percussion

Tracks: Ambrosia 1; Ambrosia 2; Ambrosia3; Ambrosia 4; Ambrosia 5; Ambrosia 6

Personnel: Augusti Fernandez: piano; Joe Morris: guitar

--For New York City Jazz Record July 2011

July 7, 2011

Evans/Fernández/Gustafsson

Kopros Lithos
Multikulti Project MP 1013

Augustí Fernández/Barry Guy/Ramón López

Morning Glory

Maya Records MCD 1001

Joe Morris/Agustí Fernández

Ambrosia

Riti CD11

Agustí Fernández & Joan Saura

Vents

psi 11.01

By Ken Waxman

Over the past 15 years Catalan pianist Augustí Fernández has become the most celebrated pianist – if not complete improviser – from his part of the world. In many ways he’s the successor to pianist Tete Montoliu (1933-1997). But while Montoliu was a bopper, Fernández doesn’t limit himself to one style, as this quatrtet of memorable discs makes evident.

A frequent associate of experimental improvisers from Parker (William) to Parker (Evan), the pianist also has a neo-traditional side, reflected by Morning Glory. Recorded in Spain and New York, this two-CD set is a spiky take on the jazz piano trio, with Fernández’s partners British bassist Barry Guy and Spanish percussionist Ramón López. More atonal is Kopros Lithos, whose experimental textures arrive courtesy of the pianist, American trumpeter Peter Evans and the baritone saxophone and alto fluteophone of Swede Mats Gustafsson. As founders of the Improvisadors de Barcelona Orchestra, Fernández has often worked with live electronics and sampler player Joan Saura. Vents is a rare duo session from the two.

Created in studio over an eight month period, Vents’ tracks are so much a part of the electro-acoustic world that it’s difficult to remember that Fernández is playing acoustic piano. Then again the keyboardist is a master of the timbres that can be bowed, plucked and strummed from internal strings, usually prepared with vibrating objects, and his expressions mate perfectly with the austere flanges and oscillations shrilled, reverberated or crunched by Saura’s electric implements. Throughout the performances onomatopoeically reflect both meaning of vent: an expression of pent-up emotion and an opening for the escape of gas to release pressure.

Although reductionist and disconnected, most of the tracks are remarkable in the way that Fernández’s tough keyboard pressure and popping internal strings add a needed humanity to Saura’s radiator-like hisses, motor-driven grinding and crackling sound patches. This is easily demonstrated on a track such as “Llevant”, with its shifting tonal centres.

On the other hand, Ambrosia is not your parents’ guitar-piano duo. It put a post-modern cast on the proceedings as Fernández matches wits with guitarist Joe Morris. Morris, who now often works as a bassist, at times manages to translate the low timbre of the four-string to his six-string. That means that echoes of double bass accompaniment is present while the guitarist showcases spiky, single-string action. On a tune such as “Ambrosia 1”, the two languidly complement one another even while distending the theme. Morris’ frails speed up to the point that they’re eventually bouncing from strings below the bridge and on the neck, while Fernández concentrated in swirling and contrasting dynamics à la Cecil Taylor.

Even though legato passages and harmonies are at a minimum, some of the tracks on this magisterial six-part suite don’t turn away from unintentional delicacy. “Ambrosia 3”, for instance, is built on gentle single-note clicking from the pianist, amplified by palm-pumps which create vibes-like tones from the guitarist. However, if some tracks come across as a discordant aural version of greyhound racing with Fernández chord-spraying as quickly as Morris string snaps, the two are able to intermingle such tactics as soundboard echoes from the pianist and slurred fingering from the guitarist to promote sophisticated parallel improvising.

Morning Glory is also wedded to acoustic expression. The CD’s 19 tracks, especially those recorded live at Jazz Standard, could be an updating of Bill Evans’ celebrated Village Vanguard sets. With his perfectly formed notes, Fernández makes his composition “David M” a piano showcase with deep ruminations in the instrument’s middle register. A swinging, near lullaby, it’s also notable for Guy’s slippery modulations that are unabashedly tonic. Barely there, with understated bounces on this track, López further exhibits his sensitive touch throughout. He confirms it on a tune such as “Don Miquel”, where his nervy tom-tom pulse and cymbal scrapes unite with the pianist’s methodical keyboard strumming to gorgeously frame Guy’s solo. Almost so-called classical in execution, the bassist manages to create two different sounds with his bow, before exciting with hand-pinched lines.

There’s a faint Latin tinge to “Don Miquel”, carried over from Fernández’s “Aurora” on the other CD. An Iberian take on Hispanic rhythms, the tremolo patterns reveal many notes in rapid succession, yet the line stretches enough to keep the impressionistic theme chromatic. Guy’s retort features scrapped and stropped strings, while the percussion undertow is mostly rim shots and what sounds like the hand-crushing of crisp paper.

Other pieces expose more abrasive back-and-forth group impov, often at lightning-quick speeds. At points Fernández’s choruses echo from the piano’s lower quadrant or he jabs at the keys while Guy bows. A perfect example of this strategy occurs on “Pepetuum Mobile” as the pianist’s chording evolves in double counterpoint with either Guy’s dobro-like twangs or bow taps against his instrument’s wood. As in most other instances, the drummer’s accompaniment is understated.

There’s no percussion on Kopros Lithos, but that doesn’t stop it from being the most stentorian of the three sets. Between Evans’ flighty squeals and wide-bore grace notes plus Gustafsson’s verbal shouts, tongue slaps and growls from his baritone sax, there’s enough discordance to go around. On a track such as “You displaced me by your singing”, Fernández adds to the general din by continuously rubbing and plucking his piano strings as well as clattering various objects placed upon them. At the same time it’s his methodical key-stopping which guides the trumpeter’s tongue fluttering and the saxophonist’s metal-scrapping honks to a more melodic interface.

Perhaps those connective timbres from the keyboard also define the message behind another track title: “My fingers were glue”. Certainly Fernández’s pressure firmly shapes the parallel improvising from the horns. Here Evans buzzes and whinnies as if a metal sheet is pressed against his horn’s bell, while Gustafsson contributes high velocity snorts and brays.

Fernández’s pianistic control while improvising in a non-conventional manner is a tribute to his skill. It’s also another indication why any and all of these discs are satisfying listens.

Tracks: Tramuntana; Gregal; Garbí; Migjorn; Xaloc; Mestral; Ponent; Llevant

Personnel: Agustí Fernández: piano; Joan Saura: sampling keyboard and live electronics

Tracks: You displaced me by your singing; My ears were ringing!; My fingers were glue; As each note rang true

Personnel: Peter Evans: trumpet; Mats Gustafsson: baritone saxophone and alto fluteophone; Agustí Fernández: piano

Tracks: CD1: Morning Glory: La niña de la calle Ibiza; Morning Glory; Unfinished Letter; Zahorí; An Anonymous Soul; Perpetuum Mobile; Benito (Jordi Benito in absentia); The Magical Chorus; Glade; Mourning; A Sudden Appearance; Belvedere; CD2: Live in New York: Don Miquel; Odyssey; Can Ram; David M; Aurora; No ni Nó; Rounds

Personnel: Agustí Fernández: piano; Barry Guy: bass; Ramón López: drums and percussion

Tracks: Ambrosia 1; Ambrosia 2; Ambrosia3; Ambrosia 4; Ambrosia 5; Ambrosia 6

Personnel: Augusti Fernandez: piano; Joe Morris: guitar

--For New York City Jazz Record July 2011

July 7, 2011

Augustí Fernández/Barry Guy/Ramón López

Morning Glory
Maya Records MCD 1001

Agustí Fernández & Joan Saura

Vents

psi 11.01

Evans/Fernández/Gustafsson

Kopros Lithos

Multikulti Project MP 1013

Joe Morris/Agustí Fernández

Ambrosia

Riti CD11

By Ken Waxman

Over the past 15 years Catalan pianist Augustí Fernández has become the most celebrated pianist – if not complete improviser – from his part of the world. In many ways he’s the successor to pianist Tete Montoliu (1933-1997). But while Montoliu was a bopper, Fernández doesn’t limit himself to one style, as this quatrtet of memorable discs makes evident.

A frequent associate of experimental improvisers from Parker (William) to Parker (Evan), the pianist also has a neo-traditional side, reflected by Morning Glory. Recorded in Spain and New York, this two-CD set is a spiky take on the jazz piano trio, with Fernández’s partners British bassist Barry Guy and Spanish percussionist Ramón López. More atonal is Kopros Lithos, whose experimental textures arrive courtesy of the pianist, American trumpeter Peter Evans and the baritone saxophone and alto fluteophone of Swede Mats Gustafsson. As founders of the Improvisadors de Barcelona Orchestra, Fernández has often worked with live electronics and sampler player Joan Saura. Vents is a rare duo session from the two.

Created in studio over an eight month period, Vents’ tracks are so much a part of the electro-acoustic world that it’s difficult to remember that Fernández is playing acoustic piano. Then again the keyboardist is a master of the timbres that can be bowed, plucked and strummed from internal strings, usually prepared with vibrating objects, and his expressions mate perfectly with the austere flanges and oscillations shrilled, reverberated or crunched by Saura’s electric implements. Throughout the performances onomatopoeically reflect both meaning of vent: an expression of pent-up emotion and an opening for the escape of gas to release pressure.

Although reductionist and disconnected, most of the tracks are remarkable in the way that Fernández’s tough keyboard pressure and popping internal strings add a needed humanity to Saura’s radiator-like hisses, motor-driven grinding and crackling sound patches. This is easily demonstrated on a track such as “Llevant”, with its shifting tonal centres.

On the other hand, Ambrosia is not your parents’ guitar-piano duo. It put a post-modern cast on the proceedings as Fernández matches wits with guitarist Joe Morris. Morris, who now often works as a bassist, at times manages to translate the low timbre of the four-string to his six-string. That means that echoes of double bass accompaniment is present while the guitarist showcases spiky, single-string action. On a tune such as “Ambrosia 1”, the two languidly complement one another even while distending the theme. Morris’ frails speed up to the point that they’re eventually bouncing from strings below the bridge and on the neck, while Fernández concentrated in swirling and contrasting dynamics à la Cecil Taylor.

Even though legato passages and harmonies are at a minimum, some of the tracks on this magisterial six-part suite don’t turn away from unintentional delicacy. “Ambrosia 3”, for instance, is built on gentle single-note clicking from the pianist, amplified by palm-pumps which create vibes-like tones from the guitarist. However, if some tracks come across as a discordant aural version of greyhound racing with Fernández chord-spraying as quickly as Morris string snaps, the two are able to intermingle such tactics as soundboard echoes from the pianist and slurred fingering from the guitarist to promote sophisticated parallel improvising.

Morning Glory is also wedded to acoustic expression. The CD’s 19 tracks, especially those recorded live at Jazz Standard, could be an updating of Bill Evans’ celebrated Village Vanguard sets. With his perfectly formed notes, Fernández makes his composition “David M” a piano showcase with deep ruminations in the instrument’s middle register. A swinging, near lullaby, it’s also notable for Guy’s slippery modulations that are unabashedly tonic. Barely there, with understated bounces on this track, López further exhibits his sensitive touch throughout. He confirms it on a tune such as “Don Miquel”, where his nervy tom-tom pulse and cymbal scrapes unite with the pianist’s methodical keyboard strumming to gorgeously frame Guy’s solo. Almost so-called classical in execution, the bassist manages to create two different sounds with his bow, before exciting with hand-pinched lines.

There’s a faint Latin tinge to “Don Miquel”, carried over from Fernández’s “Aurora” on the other CD. An Iberian take on Hispanic rhythms, the tremolo patterns reveal many notes in rapid succession, yet the line stretches enough to keep the impressionistic theme chromatic. Guy’s retort features scrapped and stropped strings, while the percussion undertow is mostly rim shots and what sounds like the hand-crushing of crisp paper.

Other pieces expose more abrasive back-and-forth group impov, often at lightning-quick speeds. At points Fernández’s choruses echo from the piano’s lower quadrant or he jabs at the keys while Guy bows. A perfect example of this strategy occurs on “Pepetuum Mobile” as the pianist’s chording evolves in double counterpoint with either Guy’s dobro-like twangs or bow taps against his instrument’s wood. As in most other instances, the drummer’s accompaniment is understated.

There’s no percussion on Kopros Lithos, but that doesn’t stop it from being the most stentorian of the three sets. Between Evans’ flighty squeals and wide-bore grace notes plus Gustafsson’s verbal shouts, tongue slaps and growls from his baritone sax, there’s enough discordance to go around. On a track such as “You displaced me by your singing”, Fernández adds to the general din by continuously rubbing and plucking his piano strings as well as clattering various objects placed upon them. At the same time it’s his methodical key-stopping which guides the trumpeter’s tongue fluttering and the saxophonist’s metal-scrapping honks to a more melodic interface.

Perhaps those connective timbres from the keyboard also define the message behind another track title: “My fingers were glue”. Certainly Fernández’s pressure firmly shapes the parallel improvising from the horns. Here Evans buzzes and whinnies as if a metal sheet is pressed against his horn’s bell, while Gustafsson contributes high velocity snorts and brays.

Fernández’s pianistic control while improvising in a non-conventional manner is a tribute to his skill. It’s also another indication why any and all of these discs are satisfying listens.

Tracks: Tramuntana; Gregal; Garbí; Migjorn; Xaloc; Mestral; Ponent; Llevant

Personnel: Agustí Fernández: piano; Joan Saura: sampling keyboard and live electronics

Tracks: You displaced me by your singing; My ears were ringing!; My fingers were glue; As each note rang true

Personnel: Peter Evans: trumpet; Mats Gustafsson: baritone saxophone and alto fluteophone; Agustí Fernández: piano

Tracks: CD1: Morning Glory: La niña de la calle Ibiza; Morning Glory; Unfinished Letter; Zahorí; An Anonymous Soul; Perpetuum Mobile; Benito (Jordi Benito in absentia); The Magical Chorus; Glade; Mourning; A Sudden Appearance; Belvedere; CD2: Live in New York: Don Miquel; Odyssey; Can Ram; David M; Aurora; No ni Nó; Rounds

Personnel: Agustí Fernández: piano; Barry Guy: bass; Ramón López: drums and percussion

Tracks: Ambrosia 1; Ambrosia 2; Ambrosia3; Ambrosia 4; Ambrosia 5; Ambrosia 6

Personnel: Augusti Fernandez: piano; Joe Morris: guitar

--For New York City Jazz Record July 2011

July 7, 2011

Augustí Fernández/Barry Guy/Ramón López

Morning Glory
Maya Records MCD 1001

Undivided

The Passion

Multikulti MPI 011

Ozone featuring Miklós Lukács

This is C'est la Vie

BMC Records BMCCD163

Nils Ostendorf/Philip Zoubek/Philippe Lauzier

Subsurface

Schraum Records 11

Something in the Air: Global Combos

By Ken Waxman

Globalization, mass communication and travel have actually created certain situations where the standardization of everything from hamburger patties to drum beats can be experienced no matter where in the world a person is situated. Increased mobility also, for instance, allows like-minded musicians in different locations to exchange thoughts and ideas. Because of this, the 21st Century has seen the instigation of literal global ensembles; musicians who work together regularly but live in different cities, countries or even continents.

This situation is particularly pronounced among improvised musicians, since many players already travel far to find like-minded associates. One top-flight instance of this captured on Morning Glory Maya Records MCD 1001 by the trio of Augustí Fernández Barry Guy Ramón López. Although listening to the sensitive cooperation exhibited on the two CDS which make up this outstanding essay in the trio form would suggest that the three are inseparable, it’s not so. Pianist Fernández lives in Barcelona, bassist Guy in Switzerland and drummer López in Paris. The trio functions among other commitments. Here material is divided among group compositions and those written by the pianist or the bassist. Prime example of López’s sensitive accompaniment occurs on Pepetuum Mobile where his press rolls back the pianist’s kinetic pitter-patter and tremolo chording which evolves in double counterpoint with Guy’s dobro-like twangs or bow taps against his instrument’s wood. Tracks such as A Sudden Appearance confirm the trio’s atonality, encompassing Fernández’s outlined single notes, the bassist’s screeching sul ponticello sprawls and López’s rat-tat-tats. Other pieces such as The Magical Chorus and most of the second CD, recorded live in a New York club reflect the standard piano trio, with splashes of pianistic color perfectly matched with vibrating cymbals, bowed strings or staccato plucks that presage cascading keyboard runs. A tune such as Fernández’s “Aurora”, suggests an Iberian take on Hispanic rhythms, with the tremolo patterns revealing many keyboard notes in rapid succession, yet with the line stretched enough to keep the impressionistic narrative chromatic. Guy’s contrapuntal retort features scrapped and stropped strings while the percussion undertow is mostly rim shots and the timbres involved with crushing crisp paper.

A similarly impressive global quartet is made up of Polish woodwind player Waclaw Zimpel, Ukrainian bassist Mark Tokar, German drummer Klaus Kugel and American expatriate in France, pianist Bobby Few. Undivided The Passion Multikulti MPI 011 is literally that, a modern reimaging of Christ’s suffering and death. Lacking vocals or religious motifs, the seven-part suite is not so much overtly spiritual as musically superlative. A veteran of playing in churches, nightclubs and with spiritual jazz avatar Albert Ayler, Few takes naturally to the theme and throughout lets his frenetic chording and dynamic voicing create fantasias of their own, as clustered notes cascade like waterfalls or singular timbres are starkly outlined. Kugel’s steady clanks and cogwheel ratcheting is added to regular cymbal splashes as well as drum drags and ruffs for versatile percussion backup. Tokar’s perfectly balanced string slaps are mostly in the background, except when used to mark theme variations and transitions. Each, whether it’s with two-fisted piano clusters, spiccato runs or door-knocking thumps cleanly intersects with Zimpel, who is equally expressive on clarinet, bass clarinet and tarogato. Appropriately intense, Way of the Cross/Crucifixion/Death finds the reedist involved with pressurized glossolalia, reed bites and emotional split tones as his solo varies from stopped silences to squeakily speaking in tongues. Around him in a broken-octave concord are buzzing bass lines, vibrating drum tops and gospel-inflected processional chords from the pianist.

One important ingredient in Zimpel’s woodwind cornocopia is the unique timbres of the tarogato, Hungarian-invented saxiophone cousin. Although French reedist Christophe Monniott doesn’t play it on This is C’est La Vie, the newest CD by his Paris-Budapest band Ozone BMCCD163, includes sounds from the equally indigenous cimbalom or multi-string hammered board zither, played by Miklós Lukács to those created by fellow Hungarians, keyboardist Emil Spányi and percussionist Joe Quitzke. Ozone’s CD is notable in its mixture of electronics and inclusion of jazz standards such as Poinciana and Sophisticated Lady. With Monniott on low-pitched baritone saxophone then latter is treatyed uniquely as his smeary split tones and squeals brush up against the reverberating arpeggios and string pops from Lukács. In contrast, Poinciana is backed into with keyboard splatters and signal-processed lines as the double-time treatment eventually encompasses Spányi’s multi-fingered syncopated runs and Monniott’s tongue vibrato on alto saxophone, ending with vocoder modulations from the saxman and portamento runs from the piano. More intriguingly, tracks such as the title tune welcome all influences. Here Monniott’s high-pitched, corkscrew-like vibrations operate alongside Lukács’ twanging harp-like arpeggios played andante and staccato, backed by cymbal splashes and superfast piano comping.

Canadians are also involved in trans-border cooperation as demonstrated by Subsurface Schraum Records 11, by the trio of Montreal-based bass clarinetist and alto saxophonist Philippe Lauzier, and two Germans, Berlin trumpeter Nils Ostendorf and Philip Zoubek from Köln on prepared piano. Here instrumentalist’s extended textures create a soundscape of buzzed and granular modulations as if electronics are involved. They aren’t. Instead multiphonics arise from the piano’s stopped and striated strings, the reedist’s flat-line or pressurized vibrato and grace note flourishes from the trumpeter. On a track such as Spectral Radiance, Zoubek’s clipped and clanking chords are mixed with string pops that add wooden tones from then piano’s action, building up to a rough, broken-chord concordance with bubbling and buzzing staccato lines from the horns. In comparison, an interlude like Calm City lives up to its name as the pianist’s barely audible key strummed accompanies Ostendorf’s carefully shaped grace notes, as Lauzier’s extended puffs gradually swell in volume.

Unlike economic or political globalization, musical globalization is more benign. These sessions demonstrate the outstanding results when free-thinking musicians based in different locations are able to regularly create together.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 16 #5

February 7, 2011

Agustí Fernández/Barry Guy

Some Other Place
Maya MCD 0902

Borah Bergman & Giorgio Dini

One More Time

SILTA Records SR801

Dating from a time when intimate night clubs feared the potentially bombastic rhythms of a drum kit, piano-bass duos – often with the additional of a guitar – became the last work in sophisticated jazz. Employed memorably by piano stylists as different as Oscar Peterson, George Shearing, Ahmad Jamal and Bill Evans, a tendency towards fussiness and minimalist panache is avoided if the strength of the pianist and bassist are equally matched.

While both sessions here have much to offer, it’s obvious that Catalan pianist Agustí Fernández and veteran British bassist Barry Guy are more evenly matched than American pianist Borah Bergman and Italian bassist Giorgio Dini. The reason is simple. Fernandez, whose playing partners have encompassed American bassist William Parker and Swedish saxophonist Mats Gustafsson, is a long-time associate of Guy, as part of the bassist’s New Jazz Orchestra, and a quartet with saxophonist Evan Parker. Ambidextrous Bergman, whose cascades of notes flow from either hand, matches Cecil Taylor in pianistic intensity and usually improvises alongside such equally other-directed players as saxophonists Peter Brötzmann and Parker plus drummers Andrew Cyrille and Hamid Drake. Meanwhile Varese-native Dini has worked in many improv contexts with partners ranging from pianist Gianni Lenoci to trumpeter Markus Stockhausen and saxophonist George Haslam. But he can be forgiven for being diffident in this first-time meeting with Bergman’s overbearing pianism.

Initially when confronted by the musical equivalent of a ferocious wildcat that operates by his own logic, the bassist hangs back and seems to be merely following along. Yet by the completion of the seventh track he’s asserted himself enough so that his position is analogous to that of a young fighter going against Muhammad Ali – not only is he still standing, barely bloodied, but he has managed to let loose with a few haymakers of his own.

“Hustle” marks this change is dynamics, as Dini’s woody shuffle bowing and percussive stopping matching Bergman’s kinetic metronomic runs and cascading chordal patterns. While the pianist is using foot pedal power to pressure splintering and hammering from one hand; he’s using the other to pace thematic circular patterns. As the bassist’s steadying bowing turns to col legno stops, Bergman pauses to wind-up wide player-piano like syncopation which is swiftly decorated with melodic, bowed invention from Dini.

As Bergman’s improvisations cascade through references to Stride, Swing, Ragtime, Klezmer, Bop and who-knows-what-else, it’s instructive to note how the bassist woks his chord-muting counterpoint to this string-key miasma. After the CD’s mid-point however, Dini’s pumping, stopping and plucking are able to amplify the keyboardist’s galloping cascades which sometimes appear equal parts melancholy and frenetic. If a part doesn’t appear to fit, like an unschooled early New Orleans player, Bergman merely piles more notes and textures upon it until it does.

“No More Cosmetic”, the CD’s final track illustrates Dini coming into his own. Operating with broken chords, his pulsating, contrapuntal movements provide interjections within Bergman’s lava flow of dynamic rumbles, runs and rebounds that are more hyperactive than the movements of a newly born puppy. With his ambidextrous motions in boldest relief, you can hear one hand advancing the thematic line while the other shreds a parallel texture with broken-octave clinks and clatters. The drawback of this is that some of the bassist’s more rhapsodic passages are nearly buried underneath Bergman’s roller-coaster-like keyboard motions, with the pianist streaking from allegro to staccatissimo and shoehorning references to other tunes into his solo. Climatically the two eventually intersect during a passage of double-pulsed lyricism. The result is a satisfying conclusion. However, with Dini having reached the status of a contender with this session, a rematch between the two would seem to be in order.

Some Other Place’s 10 tracks evolve at a much less frantic pace then One More Time’s. One reason might be that unlike the Bergman-Dini free improvisations, the tracks here are composed by one or both players. Especially interesting are that two of Guy’s three compositions recall his background in so-called early music in their melodiousness and romanticism.

“Blueshift (for M.H.)” – probably celebrating the fine baroque violinist Maya Homburger, Guy’s wife – is filled with European semi-classical allusions. Fernández’ full-flavored emphasis is on chords with measured temperament plus soundboard echoes, ending with a romantic fantasia of note sprinkles and reflections. Meanwhile the bassist’s guitar-like licks expand the theme moderato, then let deliberate strokes and rhythms vibrate underneath the piano chords.

Initially more bristly, with flashing sul ponticello bass lines and stops plus powerful internal piano string strums, the title tune soon dispenses with these strategies to introduce another near-largo line which mutates into a “Moonlight Sonata”-styled intermezzo. But since this is Free Music not Mood Music, the piece is transformed one more time before completion with many-fingered dynamic thrusts from Fernández and swift stopping from Guy.

As a rule, Fernández’ own compositions are more concerned with the staccato and contrapuntal properties of the instruments in broken octave interaction than Guy’s. “The Helix” for instance includes so many whistling timbres from strummed bass strings and vibrated piano strings that the resulting texture takes on near wave-form oscillations. Most others encompass a story telling aspect as well as technical pan-tonality.

On the other hand, the oddly titled “How to Go Into a Room You Are Already In” features resonating allegro plucks from Guy that isolate the reflective meditation from the pianist as he outlines the theme. While Fernández works his way southwards, the bassist first counters with measured pizzicato stops and then high-pitched sul ponticello slices that eventually deepen in tone and intensity. Bravura and mercurial “Barnard’s Loop” aligns slinking crab-like keyboard reaches from Fernández with strident plucks and striated spiccato rubs from Guy. Bouncing along the keyboard and among the internal strings, the pianist makes common cause with Guy’s rasgueado and shuffle bowing.

A satisfying meeting of equals, this CD is yet another notable addition to both men’s discographies.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Some: 1. Annalisa 2. Barnard’s Loop 3. How to Go Into a Room You Are Already In 4. Rosette 5. Blueshift (for M.H.) 6. Boomerang Nebula 7. Crab Nebula 8. Some Other Place 9. Dark Energy 10. The Helix

Personnel: Some: Agustí Fernández (piano) and Barry Guy (bass)

Track Listing: One: 1. One More 2. Autograph Two 3. Hustle 4. Enough for His Keep 5. Equitable 6. A Patter of Footsteps 7. No More Cosmetic

Personnel: One: Borah Bergman (piano) and Giorgio Dini (bass)

September 18, 2010

John Butcher Group

Somethingtobesaid
Weight of Wax WOW 02

Evan Parker Electro-Acoustic Ensemble

The Moment’s Energy

ECM 2066

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- Ken Waxman

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

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

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

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

February 1, 2010

Evan Parker Electro-Acoustic Ensemble

The Moment’s Energy
ECM 2066

John Butcher Group

Somethingtobesaid

Weight of Wax WOW 02

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- Ken Waxman

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

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

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

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

February 1, 2010

Augustí Fernández & Ingar Zach

Germinal
Plasticstrip pspcd708

Augustí Fernández

Un llamp que no s’acaba mai

psi 09.04

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- Ken Waxman

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

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

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

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

September 26, 2009

Augustí Fernández

Un llamp que no s’acaba mai
psi 09.04

Augustí Fernández & Ingar Zach

Germinal

Plasticstrip pspcd708

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- Ken Waxman

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

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

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

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

September 26, 2009

Jazz Brugge

Brugge, Belgium
October 2-October 5, 2008

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- Ken Waxman

-- MusicWorks Issue #103

March 28, 2009

Fernández/Parker/Guy/Lytton

Topos
Maya Records MCD 0701

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

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

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

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

-- Ken Waxman

For CODA

August 15, 2008

Evan Parker Octet

Crossing the River
psi 06.02

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- Ken Waxman

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

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

August 11, 2006

Agustí Fernández & Mats Gustafsson

Critical Mass
psi

Agustí Fernández
Camallera
G3 Records/Sirulita

Agustí Fernández Quartet
Lonely Woman
Taller de Músics/Sirulita

By Ken Waxman
February 27, 2006

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

February 27, 2006

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

EVAN PARKER’S ELECTRO-ACOUSTIC ENSEMBLE

Memory/Vision
ECM 1852

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- Ken Waxman

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

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

December 20, 2004

JOHN BUTCHER/CHRISTOPHER IRMER/AGUSTÍ FERNÁNDEZ

Clearings
ART.CappuccinoNet 008

Trans-European improv, CLEARINGS showcases a meeting of minds among musicians from three different countries with three distinct approaches to free music. Resulting in a substantial program of melding timbres, the CD confirms that only in a liberated musical situation like this could disparate styles meld.

As a matter of fact, if there was ever a complete misnomer, then it’s the title of the second track, “Bumpy Ride”. Here and elsewhere, the distinctive smeary trills of Britain’s John Butcher morph into wiggling irregular vibrations and join the speedy spiccato bowing of Germany’s Christoph Irmer and the dissonant, uneven note clusters of Spain’s Agustí Fernández sans bumps.

Both with classical training, pianist Fernández and violinist Irmer have recorded together before, while Irmer has also played with American bassist Dominic Duval and two of the pianist’s collaborators German bassist Peter Kowald and American flautist Jane Rigler. Fernández’s partners have ranged from American bassist William Parker to British reedist Evan Parker. Butcher who is universally acknowledged as the most important sax explorer since Parker, seems to have played with nearly everyone in improvised music from American drummer Gerry Hemingway to German synthesizer whiz Thomas Lehn.

There are no electronics in use on this session that took place in the same Hamburg studio where the Beatles recorded as Tony Sheridan’s sidemen in 1961, nor do the techniques of pop ever interfere. Instead instant compositions like “Fire Stack” are featured. Here reed key pops, tongue slaps and colored air mix it up with ponticello bowing and the literal scratching of the fiddle’s wood. Meanwhile Fernández forages in the piano innards, eventually encouraging legato glissandos to turn into straightforward harmonics -- which brings forth sibilant duck-like quacks from Butcher.

Although there are times throughout when the two traditional instruments seem headed towards a formal recital stance, extended saxophone technique gets them back into the free music arena.

Among the processes on offer are Fernández slapping and stopping the action of the piano strings, battering the keys with dynamic pressure, sounding the occasional bent note and leaping hopscotch-like over the keyboard. Irmer laterally saws away at his strings so that the tone begins to resemble that of a whining human voice. And he also creates elongated grating string pitches to accompany repeated piano arpeggios or irregularly pitched penny whistle vibrations from Butcher. As well as creating tiny, multi-note bird tweets from his soprano, the reedist at points also smears and snorts tenor sax lines.

“Siege” is a summation of many of these patterns, featuring the three polyphonically sounding out three separate but complementary lines. Measured violin harmonies, rumbling, bass piano lines and atmospheric horn honks combine with a minimum of friction.

Perhaps the summation of the trio’s work comes on the aptly-named, longest track, “Prophecy”. As Butcher’s blaring spetrofluctuation, key pops and extended grainy slurs meet Fernández’s syncopated tremolos and high frequency chording and Irmer’s staccato fiddle lines that build makes the prophecy of a Pan-European music a reality.

At least in that neck of the improv woods, that prophecy seems to have been realized.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Entrance 2 Bumpy Ride 3. Owl of Minerva 4. Mirror images 5. Siege 6. Some time ago 7. Crystal Cube 8. Traps of Silence 9. Haunted Place 10. Fire Stack 11. Prophecy 12. Fizzy Drive 13. Farewell

Personnel: John Butcher (tenor and soprano saxophones); Agustí Fernández (piano); Christoph Irmer (violin)

June 28, 2004

JANE RIGLER & AUGUSTÌ FERNÁNDEZ

Mandorla
Dewdrop Recordings DDR 002

Defined as the union of opposites, Mandorla, the Italian word for “almond”, is used adroitly in this case. An ancient symbol of two circles overlapping one another to form an almond shape, it accurately describes this short -- 46 minute -- and exceptional CD of impressive, improvisations by what should be paradoxical partners.

Flutist Jane Rigler is a woman, an American and an academic with a PhD from the University of California, San Diego in Theoretical and Experimental Studies. With a repertoire that includes complex scores by Brian Ferneyhough, Vinko Globokar, John Cage and Bruno Maderna among others, she has also explored electronics, interactive computer music and improvisation with the likes of violinist Christoph Irmer, inside-pianist Andrea Neuman and percussionist Lê Quan Ninh.

In contrast, pianist Augustí Fernández is a man, a Spaniard -- more accurately a Catalonian -- and at this point the most accomplished Iberian experimental musician. He has worked on the New music side with Irmer and Ninh among others; spread the gospel of free music in his native Barcelona with Trio Local; and recorded with full-tilt improvisers such as Americans, bassist William Parker and percussionist Susie Ibarra, plus British guitarist Derek Bailey.

On these nine pieces, presented exactly in the order in which they were recorded, Rigler and Fernández find common ground in mutual sound curiosity. Besides that, you may suspect that the flutist’s long residency in Spain, playing with different contemporary ensembles, and the pianist’s interaction with American jazzers may provide additional concordance.

Rigler may have the tones available from flute, alto flute, piccolo and voice at her disposal, but Fernández utilizes the innards of his instrument as much as its keyboard for added color. On the final track, for instance, there’s a point where he sounds out a theme on the piano keys as crashing waves of manipulated prepared strings and stops echo from its innards. Using short breaths and strangled cries, Rigler squeezes a whimpering tin whistle-like sound from her piccolo. Finally the tune ends with tones that resemble the scratches of a wire brush on cymbals.

These likely arise from the pianist’s inventions since many of the other tracks find him scraping raccoon-like from within his instrument rather than sounding proper chords. In fact, the whining, accentuated plucks he creates on “Mandorla 1-3” sound as if they’re emanating from a bluesman’s National steel guitar rather than a pianoforte. Rigler’s conception and response is an accompaniment of ocean wave suggestions, flowing in long puffs in different tempi from her horn.

Elsewhere, she vocalizes from within her instrument, producing mouth and lip clicks, quasi-orgasmic breaths, harsh metal shaking shouts and high-pitched, bird-like whistles. A Continental gentlemen cognizant of a woman’s desire, the pianist spends much of his time on many of the tracks digging out low-pitched, reverberating drones to provide the ostinato upon which she can soar, cross blow and flutter tongue. Glissandos and chords can be sounded, but the epitome of a Mandorla is cooperation, not bringing attention to oneself.

A fine duo achievement, the disc shows what two sympathetic but opposite talents can accomplish when they intersect.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Mandorla 1-1 2. Mandorla 1-2 3. Mandorla 1-3 4. Mandorla 1-4 5. Mandorla 1-5 6. Mandorla 1-6 7. Mandorla 1-7 8. Mandorla 1-8 9. Mandorla 1-9

Personnel: Jane Rigler (flute, alto flute, piccolo, voice); Augustí Fernández (piano)

March 3, 2003

TRIO LOCAL

Trio Local +
Dewdrop Recordings DDR 001

The + in the title is intentional. It’s literally a plus sign, for this CD features three of Barcelona, Spain’s most accomplished improvisers collaborating with French, German and British improvisers.

A meeting of minds -- and fingers -- this fine CD shows that Iberian improvisers can undoubtedly hold their own with players with more advanced scenes. However, it should be stressed that Trio Local, which has been together since the mid-1990s is a Catalonian rather than a Spanish group. In the northeast and near the Pyrenees, Catalonia like Quebec in Canada, sees itself as distinct from the rest of Spain. Harsher and more abrasive than their southern counterparts, Catalonians also have a history of intellectualism, organization and progressive politics. It was this area that held out against Francisco Franco’s fascists during the Spanish Civil War and relations between Barcelona and the capital, Madrid, are always a bit distant.

So it’s no surprise that go-for-broke improvisation has taken hold in that city. Best known of the players is pianist Augustì Fernández, who brings a distinct New music ethos to his playing. Within the half-decade he has recorded with such non-local experimenters as Americans, bassist William Parker and drummer Susie Ibarra plus British saxophonist Evan Parker. Sampler player Joan Saura has written music for theatre, television and dance and is also a member of the European Improvisation Orchestra with the likes of British guitarist Tim Hodgkinson. Saxophonist Liba Villavecchia, who studied at Boston’s New England Conservatory, is part of the Improvisers of Barcelona Association which organizes concerts and an annual festival plus keeping together a large orchestra.

On its own, Trio Local can hold its own with any other electroacoustic aggregation, perhaps because eof its unique instrumentation. Saura’s sampler can provide the percussive underpinning when needed or the sound of an organ or a marimba. Other times it suggests an electrical storm of thunder, cloudbursts and gusting winds. Fernández’s strings with preparations can be turned into those of a celeste, a spinet or a player piano, though those massive octave wide piano chords are all his own. Sometimes the pressure on the keys is such that you can almost hear the strings stretching. Villavecchia brings forth high-pitched, flute-like tones from his mouthpiece, a storm centre of irregular vibrato and deeper tenor saxophone tones often bisected with tongue slaps. Combining his bombshell smears and honks with the jolts produced when the pianist and sampler player fire notes like a machine gun emptying its magazine almost implies a Guernica-like battlefield soundtrack.

Just as international sympathizers were involved in the Civil War, so foreign improvisers are on hand here to interact with the Spaniards. Most distinctive is French percussionist Lê Quan Ninh, who has had long association with other Continental electroacoustic explorers. He matches the Iberian meteorological sampler sounds with some barometrical ones of his own, shaking what sounds like thunder sheets on one track and creating a Gallic hailstorm with drumstick scratching cymbals on the other. Response from his southern neighbors involves unvarying clipping piano notes and some key pops and a bit of circular breathing from the saxist.

Reflecting their countries of origin each of the bassist brings something different to the collaborations. Briton John Edwards, who has matched wits with fellow Englishmen like saxophonist Parker and pianist Veryan Weston isn’t cowed on his two improvisations with the three amigos. Rubbing his hands up and down his strings and banging the bridge with his bow he creates a powerful bass thump, then individual note plucks both in arco and pizzicato mode. The Catalans respond respectively with internal piano explorations, split tones and offcentre reed vibrations and trills and mere tinkles from Saura.

French bassist David Chiesa, who has played with inventive Gallic reedmen like Michel Doneda and Jean Luc Guionnet reverberates screeching sounds from his wire strands. Because of this bells and unselected cymbals seem to be highlighted by the piano and sampler, while Villavecchia rolls out screechy chirps and tongue slaps. Later Fernández’s sneaky patterns resolve themselves into a high frequency Pink Panther-like theme, with just pedal pressure to prove he’s playing a real piano.

German bassist Peter Jacquemyn, who is also a sculptor and works with dancers, is known for his tremendous physicality and work with two bows. But no matter what he throws at the trio, they respond the same way -- but in much more cooperative and friendlier fashion -- that the Catalonian volunteers faced German panzer divisions in the 1930s. Sometimes attacking his own instrument’s strings with sharp objects Jacquemyn produces an elongated and very low-pitched arco buzz at times and bodybuilder pizzicato stretches elsewhere, that lead to Smurf-like squeaks from his highest strings. The pianist gives no quarter, at first punching out arpeggio chords then producing flat picking strokes from the instrument’s insides. Smeary trills, dissonant growling rumbles plus key pops, tongue slaps and chirps erupt from the saxophone, with the two Catalonians creating in counterpoint to head off the German’s circular runs. Meanwhile, in the background the sampler fuzzes and fizzes.

Needless to say TRIO LOCAL + crackles with excitement. Should your knowledge of Spanish music begin and end with Julio Inglesias or SKETCHES OF SPAIN investigate this disc. Those more familiar with other Continental free improvisations will discover some dazzling work here as well.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. TL+1* 2. TL+2 3. TL+3^ 4. TL+4 5. TL+5# 6. TL+6# 7. TL+7 8. TL+8~ 9. TL+9 10. TL+10*

Personnel: Liba Villavecchia (alto and tenor saxophones); Augustì Fernández (piano); John Edwards#, Peter Jacquemyn^ or David Chiesa~ (bass); Lê Quan Ninh (percussion)*; Joan Saura (sampler)

January 27, 2003

DEREK BAILEY/AGUSTÌ FERNÁNDEZ

Barcelona
Hopscotch Records HOP 10

Excessive intellectualism is one of the most common properties ascribed to completely improvised music like this. Especially if, as on this duo CD, it involves experienced European virtuosi such as Spanish pianist Augustí Fernández and British guitarist and elder statesman of the genre, Derek Bailey.

But, while the collective biographies of the two encompass experience in contemporary classical music, dance band sounds, studio pop and most definitely jazz, a cozy duo session like this one could be linked to an earlier tradition. Performing together in a Barcelona studio, aren’t Fernández and Bailey expressing themselves in a so-called folkloric way? Bringing experience and mother wit into play as each deals with the other’s techniques and inspirations, they appear to be following early urban blues partnerships such as pianist Georgia Tom and guitarist Tampa Red or pianist Leroy Carr and guitarist Scrapper Blackwell.

Obviously, unlike those 1930s sessions, there are no vocals here, and the selections last much longer than a 78’s three minute running time -- “Casa Leopoldo” alone is 23 minutes plus -- yet the excitement and honest sense of discovery is common. In contrast to today’s neo-cons, in fact, these so-called primitive bluesmen would probably not be shocked by the Europeans’ unorthodox methodology either. They evolved new ways if playing their instruments, just as those involved in EuroImprov have.

On “Senyor Parellada”, for instance, the pianist’s ripe tremolos often suggest that he’s creating 21st Century boogie-woogie, which Jelly Roll Morton said had to have “that Spanish tinge” anyway. Meanwhile, Bailey’s flat picking can be heard as an extension of Swing band sounds. Percussive in his bass string forays, the guitarist uses minimal amplification and tinctures of feedback to attenuate his ideas. Often preferring to stroke the portion of he strings beneath the bridge and on the fretboard than the instrument’s centre, he invites the pianist to match tones, sending Fernández to use the piano’s harp-like internal strings or produce an atonal staccato keyboard gliss.

The 23-plus-minute centrepiece even finds Fernández, whose playing partners have included saxophonist Evan Parker, bassist William Parker and drummer Susie Ibarra, aping player piano tones. At times the keyboard sounds as if it’s a harpsichord or a spinet, while Bailey chugs along with banjo-like flailing. A bit too long, the piece resolves itself as the pianist leans on the pedals to unleash a string symphony of smashes, wheezes and internal rumbling. Elsewhere, though, on “7 Portes”, for instance, constant arpeggios characterize Fernández’s touch as resounding fervor threatens to take over the entire sound space. Bailey’s wavering lines sometime make it appear that he’s wielding a bottleneck guitar, until he produce ear-splitting feedback as his side of the equation.

Then there’s “Esterri”, the fastest and shortest number on the disc. Bailey’s unqualified rhythm guitar strokes and the pianist’s super staccato and super quick patterns amplified with the sustain pedal, almost transform the two into country dance musicians. Powerful enough to impel committed high steppers across a floor, a variation of the music could have been produced by barrelhouse specialists 90 years ago whose steady cadence encouraged bushed sawmill workers to shuffle along all night.

With empiricism, intelligence and technical proficiency, Bailey and Fernández have created a highly functional set of music that in its context is as free, welcoming and understandable as blues piano-guitar duets were in their time. It’s certainly a disc that will be sought after by fans of either of the two men, and interested others.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Senyor Parellada 2. Botafumerio 3. Esterri 4. Casa Leopoldo 5. 7 Portes 6. Medulio

Personnel: Derek Bailey (guitar); Augustí Fernández (piano)

October 7, 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