CD/LP Review: Harriet Tubman & Georgia Anne Muldrow - Electrical Field of Love

Harriet Tubman & Georgia Anne Muldrow

Electrical Field of Love

(Pi Recordings) pirecordings.com/albums/electrical-field-of-love/

It's hard to feel the floor on Electrical Field of Love. Which is to say that beats, voices, bass lines and guitar leads float in and out of one another as the album moves forward. On first blush, it can be hard figure out how these sonic elements fit together, if at all. But much like a walk through a dark room, clarity offers shape as time passes, that mysterious floor gradually becomes more visible, with a welcoming path that has curiosities on the way.

Harriet Tubman in this case is the trio of Brandon Ross (guitar), Melvin Gibbs (bass) and JT Lewis (drums). Together for over a quarter century, these three lay claim to backgrounds that range from Henry Threadgill's Make a Move to the Rollins Band. Gibbs, who co-founded the Black Rock Coalition and just published a book titled How Black Music Took Over the World, is arguably one of the most visible bassists in forward-thinking music coming out of New York. (Several years ago, I saw him at Pittsburgh's Andy Warhol Museum with Arto Lindsay, and more recently in solo set at Winter Jazz Fest.)

Georgia Anne Muldrow has released numerous albums under her own name and, for her more jazz-oriented work, under the name Jyoti. She has collaborated with artists that include J. Dilla and Robert Glasper and saxophonist Darius Jones interpreted Muldrow's "Figure No. 2" on Demoon Alchemy (a lone operation). On Electrical Field of Love, Muldrow occupies an interesting space, working like an additional instrument with the Tubman trio, without ever attempting to imitate what an instrumentalist might play in a free setting. Lyrics often appear, adding to the intrigue. 

Gibbs moreso than Lewis often acts as the connective tissue here. The drummer flexes a bit in "Don't Stand A Chance, After the Boom," trying out a thrash beat before returning to a slow dub groove. Muldrow's wailing adds to the intensity. "Assata" builds around Gibbs' double-stops, with Ross eventually adding expanded jazz harmonies. The guitarist cuts his own path throughout the album, and when he shreds during a track like "When You Rise," his overdriven sound still floats on an equal level with his bandmates, never attempting to overpower them or Muldrow.

"Hands" closes with Muldrow singing over Gibbs's smooth plucked chords. "Are your hands like potters/ is your heart throbbing for your life/ Do you get caught up just because you're in the next electrical field of love?" After posing the questions, her husky moan vanishes in a cloud of tremolo, with the inquiry lingering on until next time.

Many of the tracks cut off suddenly or feel like a fragment of a bigger passage. Producer Scotty Hard, apparently a protege of Teo Macero, utilized the lessons of his guru in constructing the album with the band. It gives each track room to come to life without giving it time to meander. If college radio DJs still creates sets with a sense of adventure, this album (12 tracks in 38 tight minutes) should satiate them. 

What Are You Doing for Record Store Day?

Tomorrow, April 18 is the 18th Annual Record Store Day, considering the spring events and not counting the events that come on Black Friday later in the year. In the past I've both groused and geeked out about this day. This time around, I'll leave it to readers to decide where the thing really lies. I mean, my son, who's a year older than RSD, finally got into buying music in all formats over the last year, after we bestowed my late mother's stereo on him. Suddenly he was interested in starting a pile of vinyl of his own, with a taste that spans styles and generations. So if there are old albums being reissued that are hard for him to find, my guess is that some of these new remastered versions could be a good thing for others of his generation. 

I checked out info on two John Coltrane releases that are going to be available tomorrow. The Tiberi Tapes offers a preview of a complete set of live recordings that will be released in the fall. Sounds cool but the record contains a mere two tracks, one 13 minutes long and the other 11 minutes. Somehow the idea of plunking down $30 (just a guess) for 24 minutes of music doesn't do it for me. Better to wait for the whole set.

France 1965 features all the music Trane's quartet played at Antibes and Salle Pleyel, spread over four platters. A rare performance of A Love Supreme takes up half of it, though it has already been released on the first deluxe CD reissue of the original album. The remainder of the album includes another rarely performed piece: what would become the seven-horn opus "Ascension," though here it's done with Trane as the lone horn and was known at the time as "Blue Valse."

All of this appeared on a two-disc set on Gambit Records, John Coltrane 4tet Live in France July 27/28 1965, though in looking at that disc, I have a feeling it might be a bootleg. Buying legit is better but I don't feel ready to chuck the disc for another box.

But on to the good stuff....

Cecil Taylor Unit

Fragments 

(Elemental)

One thing you can count on for RSD is that musical excavator Zev Feldman will have a handful of new releases by some legendary artists, replete with deluxe packaging that includes photos, liner notes and interviews with people close to the music. Fragments is a magnum opus here. It features pianist Cecil Taylor's Unit in 1969 that briefly featured Sam Rivers (tenor and soprano saxophones, flute) along with Unit regulars Jimmy Lyons (alto saxophone) and Andrew Cyrille (drums). 

A few days later they would play Fondation Maegth, a lengthy performance which has been spread over three records (and three CDs, which again, aren't legit as I found out a few years after purchasing them). The two performances on this set come from the 8th Annual Paris Jazz Festival, which put the Unit on a George Wein-organized concert with Miles Davis and the Duke Ellington Orchestra.

If the billing sounds like worlds colliding, it's nothing compared to the music. The band performed afternoon and evening sets. In the afternoon, they played for a mind-boggling 90 minutes. The evening set trimmed it down to 49 minutes. Lyons and Rivers (reportedly using sheet music) complement each other. While Lyons often avoid wailing in favor of complex, contoured lines that took Charlie Parker's ideas into a new world, Rivers seems to push him towards some wild shrieks throughout the performances. In fact, there are moments toward the end of the afternoon set (spread over two discs on CD edition) that recall some unhinged Frank Wright sessions.

But there are also moments of complexity and delicate work. Taylor takes numerous lengthy solos between the horn workouts, and his technique is staggering in both velocity and clarity. The way Cyrille finds ways to respond to the pianist (both of them play constantly) is beautiful as well. When Rivers grabs his flute, he alternates blowing and emitting loud groans and wails. With the composition titled "Fragments of a Dedication to Duke Ellington," one can only wonder what the honoree thought of it. 

Joe Henderson

Consonance

(Resonance)

Mr. Feldman has also gotten a direct line to recordings made at the landmark Jazz Showcase in Chicago, courtesy of the family of the club's late owner Joe Segal. Consonance features one set of them, with tenor saxophonist Joe Henderson stretching out at length in a quartet with pianist Joanne Brackeen, bassist Steve Rodby and drummer Danny Spencer. 

The sound quality is strong here, putting you in the front row to experience 23-minutes of "Mr. P.C." followed by no less than 26 minutes of the saxophonist's "Inner Urge." And that's just half of the first disc. It's hard not to think of the Coltrane quartet, especially with Brackeen's way of thundering behind Henderson, and her frequent habit of dropping out after a few choruses, which inspires the saxophonist to take harmonic liberties with the music. 

Resonance is also releasing another Jazz Showcase performance with Stardust and Starlight, a 1979 Mal Waldron set that features Sonny Stitt as a guest on two tracks. (There's a combination that should be heard.) Anyone who can't get enough of Bill Evans performances should be stoked to find At the BBC, which features the pianist in a trio with bassist Chuck Israels and drummer Larry Bunker. The late pianist Michel Petrucciani is also the subject of an Elemental release with Kuumbwa, a two-disc set from the 1987 festival of that name, backed by Dave Holland (bass) and Eliot Zigmund (drums). 

Right before writing this post, I was digging into Ahmad Jamal's At the Jazz Showcase - Live in Chicago, from 1976. Opener "Ahmad's Thene" alone is spellbinding for the way the late pianist could maintain momentum with gentle grooves and then suddenly switch to a nearly orchestral flow. In "Wave" his hands do some gymnastics up the entire length of the keyboard too, as if to prove there was a wild side beneath the reserve for which he may be known. Throughout it all, bassist John Heard and drummer Frank Gant are there with him. 

(Personal aside that I can't resist mentioning: When my son did a show of Pittsburgh natives on his college radio station, Ahmad Jamal was the first person he played, in a set that jumped genres, going all the way to Mac Miller.)

Whether you decide to camp out in line at your favorite record shop or stay home, these new releases should be discovered, in all their glory. Not just online either. Feldman and his crew went to a lot of trouble compiling the engaging interviews that shed light on these performances. The least you could do it grab them. 

 

Rempis, Corsano & Adasiewicz Hit The Bop Stop

A road trip to Cleveland's Bop Stop was in order this past Wednesday, when (left to right above) vibraphonist Jason Adasiewicz, saxophonist Dave Rempis and drummer Chris Corsano set up shop for two amazing sets of free improvisation. I had seen Rempis there a few years ago at the same venue with the group Ballister, and Corsano frequently comes to Pittsburgh with his various projects. Yet the only time I saw Adasiewicz in these parts was 2011, when Starlicker (with Rob Mazurek and John Herndon) played at the Andy Warhol Museum. He dropped out of music a few years later, working as a carpenter.  Luckily he resurfaced when Corbett V. Dempsey released two albums by him in 2023. As something of a fanboy for the vibes man, I was ecstatic, albeit eventually bummed that I missed seeing him at the Bop Stop last year. 

The evening was the group's seventh show during a nine-day tour and they immediately locked in with one another, knowing how to lift the bandstand. Rempis began the set on tenor, blowing with a fury and heavy vibrato that almost overpowered the vibes. But Adasiewicz is still a heavy hitter and he put his whole body into his playing throughout the night. "God help those mallets," was scrawled in my notes from the first part of the set. 

Corsano never let his momentum waver whether he was flying over his trap kit or incorporating accessories into his playing. When the dynamics dipped down during the first set, he dexterously placed some bowls on his drum heads to get some sustained sound. He also used a paper hand fan, in a effort to bend the sound of the heads a bit, as he later explained to me.

The first set lasted close to an hour, giving Rempis a chance to switch to soprano and later baritone saxes as things surged forward. On the big horn, he began producing a flury of brutal overtones that eventually began to lock into a wave of sound that felt more like a spiritual. When Adasiewicz joined him for pedal point wave over Corsano's rolling work, it felt to my ears akin to the spirit of the final moment of A Love Supreme without recurring line that offered thanks to any higher power. That was left to the audience, who whooped enthusiastically and waited patiently for the second half.

People who look down on free music but think it lacks nuances, but there was plenty of that in the second half of the night. 

Rempis had picked up his alto during the first set, but put it down in favor of the baritone. The second set began with him on alto, at one point blowing in little peeps and murmurs. Adasiewicz, who began by clanging his instrument with the opposite end of his mallets, showed some admirable restraint when his bandmates took off in a brief duet, looking at them thoughtfully but not playing. Corsano seemed to take inspiration from the vibraphonist's visceral performance because the whole drum kit was trembling at one point while his dug into it. Even when he used brushes later on, the sounds he made felt like thunderclaps.

Rempis switched back to tenor saxophone and his blowing evoked the throaty tone of pre-bop players, creating something rich and full-bodied. Things built to a climax when Adasiewicz placed a plastic stick across the sharps/flats on his instrument and repeatedly created a sustained cluster of notes with his left hang, while his right built some concluding statements. When that device fell between the metal bars of the vibes, he pounded them with his fists to keep the sound flowing. 

Musicians who are skilled at free, open playing always astounds me with the way they know when they've reached a conclusion and know that it's time to stop. Watching this can be compared to a rollercoaster ride coming to a stop, creating another rush. Rempis, Corsano and Adasiewicz did something like that last week. As much as I wasn't looking forward to the two-plus hour drive back home, I had the energy for it after their set. 

CD Reviews: Tomeka Reid Quartet - dance! skip! hop! / Adam O'Farrill - Elephant

Tomeka Reid Quartet

dance! skip! hop!

(Out of Your Head) outofyourheadrecords.bandcamp.com/album/dance-skip-hop

The title track to Tomeka Reid's dance! skip! hop! comes off as one of those "worth the price of admission" tracks. With Tomas Fujiwara laying down a steady 4/4 beat with brushes, cellist Reid (plucking not bowing here), guitarist Mary Halvorson and bassist Jason Roebke dig into the spritely melody, with all three occupying an full, intriguing frequency range not heard all that often in this music. In keeping with Reid's album title - affixed to it when she realized how all the music inspired her to dance - the bounce of it recalls early Chico Hamilton work with cellist Fred Katz. With Halvorson's solo beginning like an electric harpsichord and the track's ending which pulls apart, finally going into a 9/8 vamp, it ultimately feels very of-the-moment. (Hearing this live was a highlight of the 2026 Winter Jazz Fest.) 

Of course the rest of the album yields many exciting moments as well. "a(ways) for CC and CeCe" (the title an acknowledgement of both a Chicago music supporter and to Reid's great aunt) begins freely, with Fujiwara sounding like he's playing drum heads with his hands, before it goes into a swing tempo. Reid produces some heavy strums that seem to channel either flamenco or a lick from "Ahmad's Blues." Halvorson goes for the former idea, with string bends that give it a surreal quality. Later in "Oo Long!" the guitarist's fuzz offers quite a contrast with the bass and cello behind her which might not exactly be acoustic but are definitely cleaner than the gitbox.

For "Under the Aurora Sky" Reid's bow creates an arresting cello ballad, with guitar offering counterpoint in the second chorus. "Silver Spring Fig Tree" gets free in the middle, until Roebke and Reid lock into single note ostinato. As Halvorson adds dissonant harmony. the cello feels extremely soulful solo with loud, crisp plucks.

The opening track might be the gateway, but everything that follows is equally strong for diverse reasons. 

Adam O'Farrill

Elephant

(Our Of Your Head) adamofarrill.bandcamp.com/album/elephant

Once in a while a musician pops up on a stage and evokes a reaction that places them several spaces ahead of their equally talented peers. They elicit a reaction similar to "Woah - this cat's going places." (At least that's what I often think.)

I felt that way back in 2018 upon seeing Adam O'Farrill live with Stephen Crump (who is about to come back to town with a different group) and hearing the album El Maquech by the trumpeter's band Stranger Days. There was imagination and fire working together in equal parts. Since then, O'Farrill has released more of his own albums and has worked in numerous bands including Mary Halvorson's About Ghosts project and with pianist Hiromi, whose intense music requires a serious set of chops. Elephant marks the first time O'Farrill has acted as the lone horn, in front of a trio of upcoming but equally skilled players. (Though bassist Walter Stinson was also a part of Stranger Days too.) 

"Curves and Convolutions" launches the set with pianist Yvonne Rogers playing a steady arpeggio, with Stinson adding the skipping counterpoint. O'Farrill, with wah mute, initially floats on top of this rigid setting before the mood loosens up and expands. By the end, the quartet's music has made a big transformation, a feeling that repeats throughout the album.

The three-part "Sea Triptych" follows, each section virtually flowing into the next, giving it the feel of a bigger piece. Dreamy visions of water travel are accentuated by ghost trumpets floating and melting in the background. In "Iris Murdoch," the third section, Stinson holds down an ostinato that has him moving all over the neck, while O'Farrill and Rogers play the edgy melody and Holzman manages to find some funk to glue it together.

O'Farrill's love of soundtracks factors into the music as well. The album concludes with Ryuichi Sakamoto's gentle "Bibo No Aozora," which features the trumpeter sounding lush, as he plays the part originally arranged for strings. Stinson comes up with another flowing solo, boosted by the comping of Rogers, who gets her own sharp solo in as the album closes. "The Return" takes its name from Twin Peaks: The Return; at nearly 12 minutes in length, it feels as much like an epic as the earlier "Sea Triptych" going through a vast array of moods, in a evocative manner akin to soundtrack work.

Throughout the album, O'Farrill clearly has undisputed chops on his horn, but some of the most arresting moments come when he plays some long tones like the muted parts beneath the piano in "Herkimer Diamond." That piece, and the brief "Eleanor's Dance" include strong backbeats which might make them more accessible but never skim on the power of the piece. 

Like O'Farrill, the Out Of Your Head imprint has also grown by leaps and bounds in terms of number of releases in their catalog and their knack for being on the vanguard of exciting improvised music. 

Caroline Davis' Return to Pittsburgh

Once again, the productive drive in the early months of the year fizzled out shortly before spring. But perhaps April showers will bring some writing on this blog. 

Lately, plans have been underway for the second annual Monongahela Pop Festival, which will happen on October 2 & 3 here in Pittsburgh, at the Government Center. I'm not able to confirm the bill either night but, as long as travel costs allow, it should be good. Check back. Incidentally, there is now an Igor Records (my label) Instagram page that will keep track of such things. It can be found at igorrecordspgh. Pink Gin Marimbas, in which I play drums, will be playing the first night of the Millvale Music Festival on Friday, May 15. We're at Cousins Lounge at 6 pm, which means you might be able to catch us before the borough gets mobbed with people.

Along with Easter busyness, there have a been a few shows happening around here. Back on March 28, saxophonist Caroline Davis came to town, a day after the release of her new album, Fallows (Ropeadope). She played a solo show at Stage MK, the home/performance space of Mark Micchelli and Mai Khôi, arrmed with her alto and some electronics.

Davis is a productive musician and a diverse one at that. While her albums Anthems and Portals Vols. 1 & 2, reveal his thoughtful writing in a more structured jazz framework, she has also released albums like Alula, that bring in the electronics and get a little freer. Accept When was a collaboration with guitarist/vocalist Wendy Eisenberg, where the adventurous streaks and more song-oriented tendencies of both performers came together.

Fallows is a wild ride, in the best sense, a rather personal one too it seems, and her set at MK incorporated that. Early on, a dreamy version of Geri Allen's "Barbara Ann" filled the room with sound. "Cloudburst" (an original, not the Jon Hendricks classic) incorporated a looped spoken sample of the late pianist Connie Crothers, which slowly became clearer as the piece continued. She used the same technique in "She Know She Is Water," [sic] using a sample of Vietnamese monk and peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh.  

Throughout the set, her alto produced some pops and slaps that became percussive backdrops for the music. Sometimes, watching her turn knobs on her organelle, to finetune the sounds, felt like a distraction so it was better to just listen.    

To begin the night, host Micchelli (who was celebrating a birthday), played prepared grand piano in a trio with Patrick Breiner (tenor saxophone, bass clarinet) and Antonio Croes (electric piano, harmonium, melodica) in a project called Two of Anything. Breiner projected several short phrases of music on the wall, but admitted beforehand that they might not use any of them during the set. Regardless of what was used, they delivered an exciting three-way improv, which included Micchelli taking drum sticks to the piano strings and dumping balls into the frame for visual and sonic effects.A good time was definitely had by all.  

Preview: Album Release by AurallaurA

AurallaurA is the nom de music adopted by vocalist Laura Chu Wiens, who is about to release her second album, The Critique of Capital: An Engagine Revue. The Pittsburgh artist penned nine of the album's 13 tracks, with a style that combines upbeat jazz cabaret with a singer-songwriter's depth, in many cases delivering uplifting messages that reflect and react to the current state of the world. 

One of the album's more telling moments comes with a song that has been heard umpteen times in various settings. In fact, it's easy to think the world doesn't need another version of Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg's "Over the Rainbbow" - until this version starts. When AurallaurA skips the octave leap of the first two notes, something is up. She's reharmonized the chord changes, not quite into a minor key, but something equally as foreboding. The arrangement changes the whole focus of the song, from whistful and light to something more urgent. In her hands, the final line of the song isn't rhetorical. She wants an answer. 

Throughout the album, this feeling of low-burning intensity mixes with the upbeat delivery of originals like "The Other Shoe Is Going to Drove," with Jeff Leonhardt's searing electric guitar lead adding to the groovy riff. "Remember Better" features harp, upright bass and bass clarinet for a more subdued setting, playing up the empowering lyrics and an intriguing shift in melody for the chorus. 

The bright "Oh No Honey" - another bright modern take on cabaret style tunes ,which also seems like a dose of encouragement in the face of oppression -  has been released with a video featuring 412 Step, a local LGBTQ line dance group cutting the rug while Aurallaura belts it out into an old square box microphone. It can be seen here. 

AurallaurA, who frequently overdubs a set of harmonies to lift the song, brings a signature style to the album, which also includes readings of the traditional folk/gospel song "Wayfaring Stranger" and the Taiwanese folk song "Gao Shan Qing." She exudes the cheery confidence of a stage performer, but her voice also sounds like it has a bit of vibrato that might come more from modesty or shyness. Rather than detract from the songs, it adds to the power, as if to say this critique might be hard to express but it's necessary, so listen close. 

Aurallaura plays an album release show Thursday, March 26 at City of Asylum at 7 pm. Click here for free in-person or livestream tickets. The Critique of Capital: An Engagine Revue will be available on vinyl and CD. 

CD Review: Brandon Seabrook - Hellbent Daydream

Brandon Seabrook
Hellbent Daydream
(Pyroclastic) brandonseabrook.bandcamp.com/album/hellbent-daydream

The opening seconds of Brandon Seabrook's newest album - in the track "Name Dropping is the Lowest Form of Conversation (Waltz)" - feature a tranquil celeste that, to folks of a certain age, might recall the opening shot of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, where music director Johnny Coata play that instrument while a camera panned across a toy village right before he switched to piano and the show's namesake made his entrance. Here, those twinkly notes last just long enough to create a mood that quickly turns mysterious when Seabrook begins playing some arpeggiated chords. The scene is dreamlike, not blissful but not nightmarish either. It's could be a soundtrack for low level anxiety dream. Or maybe that's what Seabrook had in mind with the title Hellbent Daydream.

Moments occur throughout the album when the instrumentation plays tricks on the ears. There's no contra-bass clarinet on the album, but a reedy screech occurs during "Namedropping" which must be from coming bassist Henry Fraser. Violinist Erica Dicker's pizzicato playing complements Seabrook's banjo to the extent that they sometimes blend into one sound. Elias Stemseder, the fourth member of the band, is responsible for a good deal off  the settings with piano and keyboards.

For what seems on paper like a group with certain sonic limitations, the quartet changes shape constantly throughout the album. "Bespattered Bygones" sounds rather Appalachian folk initially, Seabrook having switched to banjo. But Stemseder's keys come off like a synthetic calliope, dragging things back to the Big City. During the title track, Seabrook reprises the riff from the "Namedropping" but this time, he pairs it with an augmented chord, eventually overdubbing a sea of guitars that create a wash of sound.

A Zorn-like brand of quick cuts occurrs during "I'm a Nightmare and You Know It" and "Existential Banger Infinite Ceiling," with so much happening, from fast flashes of trebly guitar plunks to droning, almost chamber piece drones. "The Arkansas Tattler" might be the least zany of the titles but it plays on the folk classic "The Arkansas Traveler" (a recurring melody heard in Warner Brothers cartoons), giving Dicker and Stemseder a jaunty melody before Fraser unpacks a solid, flowing solo. It's notable that the microphone placement captures the visceral sound of Fraser in a room, plucking the strings, with a background sound that almost comes off like a ghostly bit of brushes on a snare. As he proceeds, his solo becomes engulfed in the swell of keyboards and strings, again fusing electric and acoustic sounds together to create something bigger than both. Ultimately, it feels dreamy too, in the best way. 

CD Review: Angelika Niescier - Chicago Tapes

Angelika Niescier

Chicago Tapes

(Intakt) angelikaniescierintakt.bandcamp.com/album/chicago-tapes

European alto saxophonist (Poland-born, German resident) Angelika Niescier has often traveled to the US, collaborating the likes of cellist Tomeka Reid, and a trio with bassist Christopher Tordini and drummer Tyshawn Sorey, to name few. The connection with Reid has also lead to a collaboration with drummer Mike Reed, who serves as the other constant in the two groups that make up this disc.

The first quartet on the set adds an alto foil in Dave Rempis, along with vibraphonist Jason Adasiewicz. The remainder features flutist Nicole Mitchell and bassist Luke Stewart (the one non-Chicago resident, but a worthy addition to the fold). The album switches between groups as it proceeds, maintaining a consistant esprit de corps, while changing up sonically, with some members sitting out as things move.

Niescier and Rempis, each in their own speaker, play in a complementary style, both able to run through a range of brightly toned wails, frantic lines or overtones. In "Great Horned Owl," they interact not so much like nocturnal creatures as a nest of bees, while Adasiewicz plays a slow, resonating melody beneath them. "Rejoice, Disrupt, Resist" features a long-tone theme with both horns moving together before going off, with Niescier delivering a series of lines that alternative sharp clarity and rugged execution. In "Fluxed," Rempis follows her franitc solo with a more restraint, though he eventually adds some incisive overtones. Throughout Adasiewicz's voicings fill up harmonic and foundational space to make sure things never get spare. 

With both quartets, some of the shorter tracks could be pure improvisations or built on basic structures. While "Ext. 17" and "Poranek" feel like quick snapshots of sponataneous work, "SAMO (bsqt)," with Mitchell and Stewart, goes through several movements where both qualities come into play. Double stops form the basis of Stewart's taut solo, with some striking alto and flute lines eventually commenting on top. After a more structured interlude, Mitchell playes a melody to complement Niescier's sharp, icy solo, with a climax coming from some punchy drum breaks courtesy of Reed. "Bouncing the Ledge" also features this quartet getting wild with excellent results. 

Between the different sonic elements of the two different lineups and their desire to never let one mood settle down, The Chicago Tapes maintains focus to the end, which, in the final moments, feels like a natural pause rather than a finale. 

Saluting Tim Thomas and Babe the Blue Ox

I'm the kind of person that often finds a deep connection to an album or band. Sometimes it feels like I'm being overly enthusiastic, taking things too deeply. Or it could be that a song just takes me right back to where I was when I first gave it a deep listen, returning me to the mindframe of that time.

Last week, I saw online that Tim Thomas (above), the guitarist of Brooklyn-based Babe the Blue Ox (and another band or two) had passed away. Of course, the death of any musician in my age bracket is sad to hear. (I'm in my late 50s. At this writing, I have not seen the cause of Tim's death.) But in the days that followed the news, I began to remember how much he and his band meant to me in the '90s, when I first heard them and watched as they made the leap from indie Homestead Records to major label RCA. This was a bit of a stretch, but I felt a kinship with them. In the last two years of Bone of Contention, I was the lone dude in a trio with two women (though I played bass, not guitar). Mystery Date, my next band, had the same gender lineup at first, and we even got to open for Babe at one of their shows at the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern (where these pictures were taken).

After all that time, I almost for awhile, they were my band for awhile. Or I was their fanboy.

One of the things I dug about the band was their ability to go from raucous, noisy grooves straight into relatively gentle pop hooks. That dichotomy made itself clear immediately on their debut [BOX]. "Home" starts with a Minutemen-inspired mix of slippery bass pops (from Rose Thomson, above) and chicken scratch guitar before going into a more legato (but still funky) chorus, where Thomson and Thomas harmonize sweetly.

For every skronky moment, obtuse lyric and mumbled vocal, the group counterbalanced it with a pop sensibility that hinted that beneath the wild exterior were some vulnerable folks just trying to be understood. Thomson could go wild, yelling about shedding a skin or being an elephant who never forgets, but second full-length Color Me Babe ended with a sweet, self-deprecating vocal and bass song, quite the dichotomy with what preceded it ("There's a Hole In the Crotch of my Workpants"). 

"Tattoo," aside from being one of the best indie songs of that era, might have put all of Babe's attributes on the table at once. (The song was so strong, they recorded it twice, once on EP Je m'Appelle Babe and on their second RCA platter The Way We Were; detect a title pattern here?). Thanks to an article on the band, I know the riff of the song consisted of three bars of 7/4, followed by one of 5/4. Hanna Fox (pictured below) was skilled at drumming in a manner that implied a backbeat even if she was filling in the space otherwise, and this wobbly pattern grooved with ease. The slinky, somewhat dissonant guitar lick was not out of place in the burgeoning math rock scene that was sprouting up at that time, but Babe was more about the rock than the math.

One of the times I saw them live, Thomas introduced "Tattoos" by saying something to the effect of the song being about getting older and regretting decisions (like getting tattoos, presumably). Lyrically, he kept it vague, perhaps borrowing another page from Mike Watt, with lyrics delivered almost in a whisper, consisting largely of "red light/ stop light/ red light" before bursting into a chorus where he and Thomson blended in a manner that was right on the edge of a scream - "I'm not anything/ I'm not anything like you." 

Writing about it seems to shortchange the power of the band's delivery. (At this point, it might be best to listen to it here.) Not only does the chorus act as the release after the tension of the verse, it delivers that sentiment we all once felt while struggling to be your own person ("I'm not like you!"), coupled it with self-doubt ("I'm not anything"). Maybe it's just a lyric that fit, but the way it hits makes it so much more.

That's part of what endeared Babe the Blue Ox to me so much. They could put out a distorted rock bit called "Fuck the Song" and follow it with a near-ballad like "Breathe" (which I swear has a chorus copped from a line in the Warner Brothers cartoon Dough Ray Me-ow, another endearing element.) Then there's their brilliant version of Billy Squier's "Everybody Wants You," with a brand new set of lyrics that read like the best Exquisite Corpse game come to life. That's here. 

The band played at the BBT twice (with an earlier show at Pitt, which I missed). I got there early at the first one, in hopes of doing an interview for my zine Discourse, hoping to talk to Thomson specifically, having been impressed by the bass playing on Color Me Babe. This was right before their RCA debut People was about to be released and we had a great chat, with her bandmates joining in towards the end. Everyone was really down to earth, and when I stepped away from the table, they commandeered my micro-recorder for some goofball moments. 

Upon their next visit, Mystery Date got to open for them. For a band that had been on a major label for a while, they were still the same down-to-earth, friendly folks that had been before. This story has been told (by me) several times, but bears repeating: "Underground," a song by our guitarist Bridget, was one of my favorites in our set and one that I always felt could have been a pop hit. After we finished it, I heard Tim Thomas bellow from the bar, "THAT SONG RULLLLLES!" It felt really good to know that someone else felt the same way about it as me, especially a guy in a touring national band.

Another band of mine, the Fearnots, once covered a Babe song, "Gymkhana," another number with a strange storyline that is only clear when introduced by Thomas (it's about buying a shirt and not liking the way it fits). Our guitarist Hille could yell like Rose or Hanna and I barked like Tim, getting so wrapped up in the song that took a lot out of me.    

It seemed like the band went as far as an imaginative indie band could go, and decided to call it there. It felt like a sign. Mystery Date had a similar fate, though nothing near the track record that Babe had. But upon looking them up online a few years ago, it looked they were at it again, playing once in a while, when and where they wanted, still doing their own thing. Again, those three were setting the new standards. Actually, they were four now, as Eddie Gormley joined the band as a drummer too.

Thinking back on those fruitful days, I realized a number of Babe-isms factored into my songwriting, not that anyone but me can notice them. The idea of a harmonized chorus after a verse full of noises; adding a mumbled lyric over a dirty riff; contrasting sweet and sour - it's all from them. After seeing Tim and Rose do some sort of dirty boogie with their guitar and bass crashing into one another and making some great Beefheartian metal-on-metal noise, I convinced Bridget to bang her guitar into mine once in a while during a set too. 

All of it came floating back to me after pulling out some of their CDs. Thanks, Tim. Thanks and love to Hanna and Rose and the Thomas family too. 

 

CD Reviews - Phillip Golub/Lesley Mok - Dream Brigade & Camilla Nebbia/Marilyn Crispell/Lesley Mok - A Reflection Distorts Over Water

The idea for pairing these two albums came from seeing them listed together in another publication. While someone else wrote that piece, I still wanted to hear and write about both albums.

Phillip Golub/Lesley Mok

Dream Brigade

(Infrequent Seams) dreambrigade.bandcamp.com/album/dream-brigade

At a concert of free improvisation, it's possible to see the musical connections between players, e.g. when one hits upon an idea and the other performers respond and react to it. Observing this in real time can have electric results for those who pay close attention to such details. There have been many instances when musicians smile or even laugh a little in surprise after a performance, as impressed as the audience at what just transpired in their hands.

Listening to a recording, that immediacy might not come across the same way. It requires listeners to give a little more. Dream Brigade, a set of duos by pianist Phillip Golub and drummer Lesley Mok, is marked by several places where the absence of sound, or the sparse quaility of the music, actually serves as a way to generate a closer listen. "Invisible Ink" starts off like a piano nocturne, with Golub alone, playing bits of notes that hang in the air and decay. It feels like a solo piece but eventually cymbals begin stirring in the background, followed later by brushing sounds. Mok never disrupts or reshapes Golub's work, instead adding complements.

In the two "Low Passage" pieces, Mok sounds deliberately low in volume or in the mix. Cymbals bowed by sticks in part one and a distant floor tom roll in part two lend intrigue. Even when Golub digs into a two-note vamp in part two (in a rhythm that almost recalls Suicide's "Rocket USA"), Mok cuts loose with cymbal splashes and rolls around the kit, avoiding any temptation to blast. When they do play louder, in the rollicking "Tunnel Throat," Mok locks in with Golub, who scales the whole length of his instrument. 

Along with six improvisations, Dream Brigade includes two standards. "Darn That Dream" doesn't make itself clear until Golub teases the theme out later in the track. Prior to that, his hesistant chords recall how Thelonious Monk used starkness in a solo performance. George Shearing's "Conception" maintains a little more of its bop grounding, though the pianist's inspired lines forego any rhythmic tethers and Mok makes the whole thing dance.

Camila Nebbia, Marilyn Crispell & Lesley Mok

A Reflection Distorts Over Water

(Relative Pitch) relativepitchrecords.bandcamp.com/album/a-reflection-distorts-over-water

Mok joins tenor saxophonist Camila Nebbia and pianist Marilyn Crispell for a set of largely improvised pieces, some based on Nebbia's scores plus one original work. The drummer actually contributed their piece "Longing" to the session, which blurs the line between composition and improvisation with over 60 seconds of ringing cymbals before Crispell plays the gentle melody. 

Nebbia doesn't appear on that track, at least not blantantly, but leaves an impressimve mark on the rest of the session, drawing on a varied range of techniques. A throaty rasp factors into "Transitoriness" to create a mix of short thoughts with more extended ones. "Streamside" concludes the album with a gentle spray of multiphonics over brushes and light piano chords.

The 10-minute title track launches the album in a slow and cautious manner. Once Mok unleashes and fiery press roll, things take off, with Crispell jabbing chords beneath the tenor saxophone. The drummer and pianist really lock in together throughout the album, offering a good reminder of how the pianist still manages to blend post-Cecil Taylor fire music with a distinct melodic quality. As strong as the entire set sounds, "A Room is Being Erased" gives the best example of an unhinged three-way conversation about where this music can go. 

I probably end a lot of reviews by pondering if a group of this stature ever gets the chance to perform live, tour or even reconvene in the studio at some later date. But it's not my fault that a session of such wide ranging ideas and playing leaves the listener wanting more.

CD Review: John O'Gallagher- Ancestral

John O'Gallagher

Ancestral

(Whirlwind) whirlwindrecordings.com or johnogallagher-whirlwind.bandcamp.com/album/ancestral

Of all the riveting moments that take place on Ancestral, the most impressive ones come from the interactions between drummers Andrew Cyrille and Billy Hart. Not to discredit leader John O'Gallagher, whose alto saxophone acts as a guiding force of melody and heavy fire, most notably in "Altar of the Ancestors." The same praise is earned by the forth member of the group, guitarist Ben Monder, who deftly combines roles as a foundation of the music, playing bass lines, with moments as the second harmonic voice in O'Gallagher's compositions or in the group improvisations.

At the same time, the way Cyrille and Hart - both imaginative players, to put it mildly - interactive with one another, sharing the percussive space, really makes the music electrifying. (Presumably Andrew Cyrille is in the left channel and Billy Hart occupies the right channel.) In the flowing opener "Awakening," Hart plays sparingly with mallets. The alto and guitar play the melody as one, though Monder occasionally slips in some chords to bump it up. Cyrille doesn't come in prominenently for about two minutes, and he emerges with brushes in hand, which adds more color to the rubato feel of the song.

A track like "Tug" reveals the almost telepathic connection both drummers. Hart begins tapping the tempo on the rims, moving to the toms, responding to Cyrille's snare crack with a crack of his own. All of this while Monder keeps the steady groove going. Throughout the eight tracks, one drummer seems to know the right time to play the full kit, while his partner might stick to the snare. When they both come to a full boil during Monder's rapid solo in "Profess" things sound more complementary than busy.

O'Gallagher's PhD work on the music of John Coltrane has inspired his own writing, which often feels free but never completely forgoes struacture (one of this conclusions in his deep analysis of late-period Coltrane). "Altar of the Ancestors" takes a hint from the Trane-Elvin duet "Vigil," with the saxophonist spontaneously creating torrents of lines, accompanied only by the drummers. Conversely "Under the Wire" has a playful, Monk-like theme. 

After having his own quality time with Cyrille and Hart, O'Gallagher extends the courtesy to Monder for "Contact" which climaxes with a wave of chords that, in the guitarist's frequent fashion, sounds massive without getting too loud. The album ends with "Postscript," a group improvisation that, ironically, was the first recording of the session. Guitar and saxophone both create some heavy lines as the drummers alternate snare and tom work.

Despite the relative spareness due to a lack of  a bass anchor, the album has several spots where things never get minimal, moving instead in a direction that recalls the fire of Sonny Sharrock's Ask the Angels. Or to put it another way, these guys rock.

A Report on Jazz Congress 2026

As I type, it's been two weeks since I atteneded Jazz Congress, the annual gathering at Jazz at Lincoln Center of musicians (both established and aspiring), industry folks (elaboration to come), media types and whoever else can make it. On January 7th and 8th, a series of panel discussions took place, all geared towards expanding the audience for jazz, as the organization's website states. With people all huddling around the lobby of J@LC, there are opportunities for networking, as well as playing what I like to refer to as the game of Who's Here? 

I hadn't attended the Congress since 2020, just a few months before the pandemic hit. That year proved to be a worthwhile trip (especially since it occurred the same week at Winter Jazz Fest). JazzTimes was still alive in print form and I ended up coming across a story idea, pitching it to my editor and getting the greenlight while I was there. (I even had time later in the week to start on the story, which provided a current look at the ESP-Disk' label. That story seems to be missing from the JT website but it was later published in the Jazz Journalist's Association's compendium Jazz Omnibus: 21st Century Photos and Writings). 

With lingering pandemic issues and a few years where there was no JazzTimes or any other writing opportunities for me, there didn't seem much reason to attend the event. But with a former guru - if I may call him that -  receiving an award, and the desire to try and get back into the jazz fray appealed to me, it seemed like a good time to return. 

It certainly felt like an important time to be discussing ways to reach the jazz audience. Back home in Pittsburgh, the word has just gone down that the once-daily newspaper the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette plans to cease publication completely in May (at this point, print copies are only available two days a week; the rest is all online). Pittsburgh City Paper, an alt-weekly that just happens to have the same parent company as the P-G, was also going under. Which means the ways in which jazz fans can find out about local events and concerts in town has gotten even more limited. Maybe that means people like me need to step up to the plate more. Though a big part of that means that folks need to know I'm out here.

The act (or perphaps the art) of getting the word out to people was tackled in several panel talks on the second day. One panel was titled Jazz and Spotify: How Streaming is Shaping Jazz for Listeners and Artists Alike. The panelists included Liz Pelly who just wrote a book about Spotify. As much as I wanted to attend that one, it ran at the same time as The Future of Public Radio, which was moderated by no less than Scott Hanley, the General Manager of WZUM- The Pittsburgh Jazz Channel (he's on the far right, below). 

Along with Hanley, the panel (pictured above) included, left to right Bill Johnson (WRTI-FM, Philadelphia), Marta McLellan Ross (NPR), Ken Poston (KSDS-FM, San Diego) and Steve Williams (WBGO-FM, New Jersey). 

Another blow to the industry came a few days earlier when the Corporation for Public Broadcasting announced that it was voting to dissolve. Hanley, who was a fountain of important info throughout, took the opportunity to quote Lyndon B. Johnson, who was president was the CPB was established. "It will get part of its support from our Government. But it will be carefully guarded from Government or from party control. It will be free, and it will be independent-and it will belong to all of our people."

Hopeful words that have been dashed by the blatant disregard for media and reporting in general these days. But in the room that day, the panelists remained committed to their work and continuity seemed like a forgone conclusion. When the question was raised why radio stations still matter, Williams replied, "Because we have constitutents to serve."  Johnson, whose station broadcasts both classical and jazz music, added, "We're stewards for the university [Temple] and we have a responsibility for what's ideal. It's a relationship we're managing."

Later that afternoon, a friend joked that a panel titled The Changing Media Landscape was going to be bleak. But if anything, the crew of writers and publicists on the panel - moderated by Larry Blumenfeld - also seemed more optimistic, if not simply just determined to plow forward. Publicist Lydia Liebman (third from left above) compared efforts to promote artists as similar "to the Wild West," where so much product is on the marketplace. NPR Music's Executive Producer Suraya Mohamed (next to Blumenfeld) agreed. Michael J. Moore (far right), a New York Times contributor, said his "career has always been about [spotlighting] people you should know," something he does both in print and online. 

As things wrapped up, Blumenfeld probably summed things up best by opining, "There is still a potent jazz ecosystem, but not the same connective tissue."

The previous day's opening discussions were a little more easy going, at least the ones I saw. Juke Box Jury always seemed like something that would not appeal to a free skronk lovin' guy like me. But it was the first panel of the day and a good adventure to kick it off. 

The format of the event features a batch of new music excerpts being played for a "jury" of radio folks, in this case, left to right above, Michael Valentine (WDNA), Sheryl K. Symister-Masterson (Jazz/Fluxus), Leo Sidran (The Third Story), Rachel Smith (WKCR) and moderator Jae Sinnett (WHRV). After 30 to 60 seconds of music, everyone is asked for their take on the music.

The nine selections included a vocalist setting up a rather dramatic post-romance scenario (Sylvia Brooks), a tenor saxophone leading a drummer who sounded inspired by Elvin Jones (Rick Roe), a tribute to pianist Oscar Peterson (Scott Routenberg Trio) and some greasy B3 organ/guitar work (Dave Stryker). 

As someone who usually needs at least two full listens to a track before knowing if I like it, I agreed with Valentine, who commented, "I'd like to see how long [the track] would be," after hearing a snatch of a tune by saxophonist Noah Preminger. The whole radio station approach -  where some programmers insist that you don't play a track that starts with a bass solo - is not something that I agree with. Sinnett commented, "We need to play accessible music these days, when we need funding." True in a way, but jazz listeners like a challenge too.

Further, 30 seconds isn't enough to really enough to make a decision to these ears. After initially balking at Brooks' overly dramatic story, I found myself wanting to know where the song went next. The initial jarring dissonance of Meg Okura's Pan Asian Jazz Ensemble got more intriguing as it continued. 

Later that day, Lee Mergner received the Bruce Lundvall Visionary Award, an honor he took with a bit of a shrug because, as one of the founders of Jazz Congress and an organizer of the event, he was the one to place the order for the trophy itself. Nevertheless, as the former editor of JazzTimes and organizer of Jazz Connect (the event the pre-dated Jazz Congress), Mergner has done a lot for the music and the people in it. Thankfully his wife convinced him to take it. 

Christian McBride introduced Merger, stealing some of the honoree's material, and adding that he had "a celestial message" from the late jazz critic Stanley Crouch from the great beyond who had a message about where the trophy could be shoved. Mergner, without missing a beat, adding that if Crouch came back, he could fire him again. On a more serious note, Mergner brushed off the idea that he "singlehandedly" kept events like Jazz Congress alive, saying that he, like musicians, collaborates with a host of people. In closing he added, "My life is all in my work - and it hasn't felt like work."

The year's keynote address came from actor Wendell Pierce, a strong jazz advocate who, among other roles played trombonist Antoine Batiste of the HBO series Treme. "Culture is not a luxury, it's a necessity," he said, pointing out something that seems to have been lost at places like the Kennedy Center in recent weeks.

"This nation does not need more volume, it needs more listening," he said, adding later, "Keep playing as if connection is possible, because it is!"

Meet Schuyler Iona Press

Last week I made my annual trek to New York City for the Winter Jazz Fest and, for the first since the pandemic, the Jazz Congress conference. My report on the festival can be found here. Please check that out. But this post is dedicated to a show I caught when I went off the WJF grid for about an hour. 

Schuyler Iona Press came to my attention several months ago when I stumbled across her videos on Instagram. Here was a young woman staring directly into the camera while playing the piano (sometimes guitar or ukulele) and singing funny songs. Not funny as in "the title of the song is the punchline, which gets less funny each time" nor so-so jokes that are sung in a loud voice, which is supposed to be what makes them funny. Schuyler has a knack for snappy couplets, in a way that reminds me a bit of one of my favorite tunesmiths, Franklin Bruno.

New posts appear on her IG account almost daily. They're brief but they come across like completed projects rather than rough musical drafts. She sings about childhood crushes on unlikely actors, how she dealt with fear in the middle of a haunted house and what happened when she worked in a juice bar in Los Angeles. There's also the song about how her Thanksgivings during many of her teen years were spent traveling to an Irish dancing competition, which never achieved the results she hoped for. If her music and her crisp delivery paint a picture of someone who should be on a theater stage, it's not surprising. She's working on a musical about the bond between Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe. 

When I found out Press was playing while I was in town, I didn't want to miss it. 

Last Friday, she played on a four-act bill in Brooklyn at a place called pinkFROG Cafe, during the first night of Winter Jazz Fest. Her show was not part of the festival but in New York, there's always something else going on top of the multitude of acts playing each night. Why not go rogue for a short while? The kid had me intrigued.

Catching her set meant hightailing out of the jazz first show of the evening, jumping on a subway and hoping to arrive on time. (Someone told me residents find such rushing around to be crazy. To me, it's par for the course, even if it stokes my anxieties in the process.) If Press started at 7:40, as promised, it could make it without missing too much of the festival. (Apologies to the other acts at pinkFROG, who I missed.) 

 

Onstage, Press evoked my memory of seeing singer/songwriter Danielle Howle for the first time. (It was in New York also, during a CMJ Music Marathon in the mid-'90s.) Howle, whose twang immediately betrays her South Carolina upbringing, is a far cry from native New Yorker Ms. Press, but they both have a welcoming stage presence, with the ability to develop immediate rapport with an audience through song introductions, as well as the songs themselves. Before singing "Ode to the Performative Male," a song inspired by an ex-boyfriend, Press told the story of how her mother pinpointed the song's character as soon as she heard it. It took her a few years to come clean because, as she quipped, no one wants to admit that their mom was right.

As good as she is with the light-hearted songs, Press (again like Howle) can also pen a serious one that can stop you in your tracks. "Welcome to the End" was a timely song that compared the world to a decrepit diner where, among other things "The jukebox won't stop playing 'American Pie.'" There were even better metaphors but I couldn't write fast enough and pay attention at the same time. In the wake of the events that went down a few days earlier, her words proved to be right on the money. Hopefully she'll release this one sometime soon. Two songs released four years ago can be heard on Bandcamp, with two more on Spotify (one of the latter, "Let's Have a Picnic," was part of her set last week).

Every night there's probably someone playing a show in Brooklyn that should be heard by a larger mass of people. If the right people hear Schuyler Iona Press, big things could happen.

 

Final Thoughts on Shows of December 2025

I was hoping to close out 2025 with one more post, looking back on the year a little and talking about a couple shows that happened earlier in the month. But, of course, fate and time had other plans yesterday. So here we are today. 

Happy New Year! Anyone reading this take that Polar Bear Plunge this morning in the beautiful Mon River? 

One of my resolutions for this year is to stay focused on projects at hand, and not to get distracted by little things. As 2025 moved on, I, like many people, got infuriated by the sweeping cuts our clueless leaders made to programs they didn't like and didn't adhere to their kowtowing standards.

But I also often got locked into reading social media comments from people who rehashed tired lines about the current administration doing a good job and "well, you know/but what about...." comments about previous administrations. It's only been recently that I have started to wonder if many of these are bots or the result of AI. I'd like to think real people can't be that naive. ("Naive" being a generous description here.) 

So as 2026 begins, I am going to try to avoid my time responding to manufactured rage and more time trying to find and celebrate the good. As my late mother would say, "We'll see."

Having said that, let's go back a few weeks to a show that Kente Art Alliance presented at the New Hazlett Theater. 

The Dwayne Dolphin All-Stars was something of a hometown celebration/homecoming for half the band. Dolphin himself has been a fixture on the local jazz scene for several decades, leading several of his own groups and playing with Roger Humphries in RH Factor. (Both of those gentlemen once dropped in for an interview at WPTS when I did a morning jazz show in the early '90s). Drummer Jeff "Tain" Watts grew up here before moving on to become a significant leader and sideman (with both Branford and Wynton Marsalis). Orrin Evans was originally slated to be the group's pianist but the spot was taken by David Kikoski, a dynamic player himself. Trombonist Fred Wesley was the extra guest that night. 

The night started with just the rhythm section. After a laidback blues, things shifted into a rubato piece that eventually segued into what I'm pretty sure was the classic "Alone Together."  Tain excelled at this flowing opening, creating excitement as Kikoski dug in for two-handed ripples. An animated guy, it seemed like throughout the evening, he could have slipped off of his piano bench. 

When Dolphin introduced Fred Wesley, he said he had been playing with the trombonist in the New JBs for 35 years, more than half his life. Dressed in a gray suit and silver shoes, Wesley didn't quite look like a guy who might have once played in a group known as the Horny Horns, with Funkadelic. But looks can be deceiving. His first tune with the band was a sweet rendition of "Like Someone In Love" which had authority and lyrical depth.

Later in the set, he dug into "All the Things You Are." At the end of the night, for those who wanted to hear him get funky, he and the band kicked it up with a groovy version of the JB's "Pass the Peas." 

I don't normally like being asked to sing along but I couldn't say no during "Snooky," a Dolphin original about a character he knew from his young days in the Hill District. Over a sharp vamp, the bassist had us singing:

"I remember Snooky

Snooky wasn't smart

Snooky kept his bottles in a cart"

Reggie Watkins (trombone), Ian Gordon, JD Chaisson (trumpets), Paul Thompson (bass)

On the day after Christmas, Opek played what is starting to become their annual show/gatherting at Kingfly Spirits. The ensemble has been around for about 25 years, started by saxophonist Ben Opie to dig into the repetoire of Sun Ra. Over the years, he has added the works of other composers to their book - Charles Mingus, Thelonious Monk, Anthony Braxton.... This show also included a reading of Led Zeppelin's "Since I've Been Loving You," which really lends itself to a big band setting; Pittsburgh's Billy Strayhorn and Akira Ifukube, the latter who wrote a piece that was sung in Godzilla vs. Mothra. 

Ben Opie (alto), Chris Parker, John Purse (guitars), Lou Stellute (tenor)

I had an upfront seat,which was a great place to get shots of the horns, but I didn't get a shot of Kelsey Wooley Jumper, who sang a couple songs with the band, the first vocalist to ever sit in with the band. She also added some tap dancing to the sweet version of "We'll Meet Again" towards the end of the set. Last year, Opie sang this song, and the feeling was a little bittersweet, and the thought of a future Opek show not being a guarantee. When Jumper sang it, it felt like a promise and an acknowledgement that we need to do this again.

Apologies to drummer Dave Throckmorton and baritone saxophonist Rick Matts for not appearing in the pictures. They were definitely felt that night.