CD Review: Nordeson Shelton - Incline

Nordeson Shelton
Incline
(Single Speed Music) www.singlespeedmusic.org

Some drums-and-saxophone duos make listeners forget that there isn't a rhythm section or additional lead instruments buttressing the music. (That's a verb not used enough in writing like this.) Through dynamics or sheer brute force, there's usually enough sound taking place so that anything more would be excessive.

Kjell Nordeson (drums) and Aram Shelton (alto saxophone) might not have attempted to go in the opposite direction, but there are several moments in Incline where the stripped-down sound ("minimalism" isn't really fitting) is in plain view. "Slope," the eight-minute closing track, forgoes an end-of-the-album blowout in favor of droning notes and streams of air from the horn and subdued percussives from wood blocks and metal. As he does in other tracks during the album, Shelton ruminates on his alto, playing simple figures which he hangs in the air and casually reshapes and restates. Long notes morph into buzzes or high squeals, while Nordeson imitates a ticking clock to cue the ending. "Slope" actually comes off more like a comedown after "Soles," the penultimate track that also begins gently but takes off after two minutes into a roll of driving percussion and expansive alto lines.

Nordeson's multi-directional approach to his kit has been noticeable up to this point - and compelling in the way it's panned between the two channels. But what isn't clear at first is that he doesn't play the trap kit in the typical free manner of press rolls and thundering toms. There are bass drum explosions but the wood and metal mentioned earlier, along with splash cymbals, shape most of his performance. The whole thing has a jittery sound to it, but it also makes him the focal point or the shaper of these nine tracks, and contributes to the overall bare sound of the performance.

Shelton, who is also a gifted composer and bandleader with his quartet and in the Chicago-based Fast Citizens (where he lived before relocating to California), gets some unique tonal qualities out of his horn too. In "Village" his growl has a metallic sound that evokes a guitarist like Marc Ribot. "Tower" offers a guessing game where it's hard to tell if you're hearing bowed cymbals or quiet saxophone notes and/or the pads of the alto being shut rapidly or gentle sticks or rims.

Nordeson and Shelton also play together in the quartet Cylinder in addition to this setting, which they've kept together since 2008. Nordeson came to San Francisco two years prior after numerous projects in his native Sweden, among them the AALY Trio with Mats Gustafsson. Few of the tracks on Incline last more than five minutes, and perhaps due to that, Shelton doesn't take opportunities to cut loose as much as his accomplice. While the album might not be as consistant as Cylinder's self-titled 2011 disc on Clean Feed, these guys should spark the interest of free improv fans.

Hunting Vinyl on Melwood Avenue

As I mentioned last week, I didn't hit the streets for National Record Store Day. But on this past Saturday, the Pittsburgh Vinyl Convention took place in, of all places, the galleries of Pittsburgh Filmmakers on Melwood Avenue. I hadn't been to a record show like this in a while so it seemed like a good time to get back on that horse.

I felt like even if I didn't buy one thing, it would be cool to look around and see what was there. The event was spread out over three rooms of the gallery and hallway, in a manner that made me realize I never knew how the building was laid out. (Of course, I think it's been renovated since I was last there too.)

It was about 5:30 by the time I got there, which sounds late, but the whole shindig ran from noon until 8, so it was still a fairly prime time. A seller in the first room made me wonder what I was in for, though when I saw a copy of Nina Simone's I Put a Spell on You marked at $80. Come on, brother, what the crap? I didn't look at it, but even if it was brand spanking new, with vinyl that shone like a star, how can you justify pricing something that high? He also had a copy of the live Pharoah Sanders album on Impulse, which I used to see at Jerry's back in the late '80s and never bought because for some reason I got it in my head that it was a double album that was missing a record. It's not. Hmm, maybe this will be my first purchase of the day.

Not for $40. Everything at that table seemed to be priced according to what it went for on eBay. Not the best way to go if you ask me. Maybe the guy expected people to haggle a little and talk him down, but I wasn't in the mood.

One other guy had a copy of Coltrane's Ascension, original mono, priced at $40, which is something I can understand. My inner geek started coming out because I have a copy of the second version of that album and started thinking that maybe I should have Version One as well. (I have both on cassette dub too, but that doesn't really count - even though it gives you a chance to hear the whole thing without a fade out in the middle.) But I was smart - sort of - in that I only brought about $40 and didn't feel right blowing it all at once.

In the end, I picked up The Max Roach 4 Plays Charlie Parker on Mercury, in part because it had two magic words on it: Hank Mobley. I have an ongoing fascination with Mr. Round Sound. It didn't have a price tag, but the seller quoted me $20, which was actually less than I thought so I felt like I couldn't pass it up. The same guy also had a Muhal Richard Abrams album I've seen for years, and when he told me that would be $5, I decided I shouldn't live without it any longer.

With those bought, I ambled around a little more, flipping past all kinds of racks, seeing a stash of jazz albums that were all priced high, some justifiably. My dilemma is that the things that I want are pretty high ticket items, so if I can just spend carelessly, I won't get totally satiated.

On the way out, I decided I needed the sealed $5 David Murray album I saw there, which I haven't listened to yet. Since today is a day off, it might be the day for it.

I wonder if the guy with Ascension sold it, because if he didn't, I'd give $30 for it now.

CD Review: Jessica Lurie Ensemble - Megaphone Heart

Jessica Lurie Ensemble
Megaphone Heart
(Zipa! Music) www.jessicalurie.com

Jessica Lurie's name showed up on my radar in the mid '90s when she played in the Billy Tipton Memorial Saxophone Quartet. Named for a band leader whose true gender was only discovered upon death (she has lived most of her live as a man, which allowed her to lead bands at that time when it was virtually impossible to be a female band leader) the group that honored her played pieces that spanned danceable ethnic styles to freer pieces and tone poems. Lurie, who plays alto, tenor and baritone saxophones as well as flute, continues in a newer version of that group now known simply as the Tiptons Saxophone Quartet, and has performed with everyone from Bill Frisell to Chuck D and the Indigo Girls.

Still, it was surprise to hear vocals taking the focus on the opening songs of Megaphone Heart. Not that she's a slack in the pipes department, but with all those horns listed next to her name in the credits, one might think this is going to be more of a saxophone album.

Lurie has a bit of the singer-songwriter bug in her too, and it keeps the expectations surprised as she makes her way through the album. Brandon Seabrook adds his guitar and banjo to the music, offering necessary roughness when needed or adding some frenetic banjo strums that bridge the gap between traditional Eastern European colors and modern skronk. Keyboardist Erik Deutsch plays electric and acoustic pianos and organ, the latter making a delightfully weird partner with Seabrook in the Balkan-flavored "Boot Heels," where cheesy organ and distorted axe trade licks. Bassist Todd Sickafoose (who also co-produces) and drummer Allison Miller round the group in a tight manner, and cellist Marika Hughes adds extra depth on three tracks.

The opening sequence of the 58-second "Steady Drum" into the full-blown "A Million Pieces All in One" bears a sound that makes the group sound like they could back up Tom Waits on a current tour. Lurie's sings without any rasp, of course, but her mid-range voice has a striking quality here, especially when it's punctuated by the horns. The pensive title track has more ethereal power too, capturing the longing expressed in the lyrics, and the musicians build to an extended, noisy coda that's worth every second.

The whole disc alternates vocal tracks and instrumentals. Some of the former don't quite measure up to the above entries. The bluesy "Maps" and the meditative "Once" are fine songs although they rely a little much on lyrical metaphors often heard in songs dealing with relationships and changes in the landscape. Her inspirations for "Once" -  a flood in Iowa and memories of how Lurie's parents planted corn in their Seattle yard to block out their neighbors - sounds more interesting than the song, which gets marred a little further by some Joni-esque trills toward the end.

Although she plays three saxes, Lurie's alto seems to be her main instrument, taking leads while the others embellish more. Her tone is strong and diverse, crisp and direct in some places, gruff and growling in others. She and Hughes create a strong texture in "Zasto" and the leader gets some good time to stretch out in the jaunty "Bells."

Megaphone Heart comes across as one of those albums that doesn't fit comfortably into one style. It's the kind of album that, for better or worse, some scribes will celebrate because it's "a little bit jazz, a little bit songwriter, a little bit Eastern European," etc. CBS Sunday Morning could have a field day with her. [That's not a criticism either, people. I'm giving you ideas.]

Unlike some albums that dabble in varieties like that - and despite what I said about a couple of the songs - Lurie can pull off all those styles without seeming like a dilettante. So much so that when on the second listen to the album, it made me think how challenging it can be to promote an album like this effectively.

Then I thought if Lurie really bothered herself with issues like that, she might never make this album. Better to encourage her to do her thing and hope the people with open ears will find it.

CD Review: Eyvind Opsvik - Overseas IV

Eivind Opsvik
Overseas IV
(Loyal Label) www.loyallabel.com

Norwegian bassist Eivind Opsvik resides in New York City, playing with a cast of musicians that has included Paul Motian, Skuli Sverrisson and Tony Malaby. He has also released several albums as a co-leader (with Aaron Jennings) and leader, of which this one comes as the fourth in a series that seems loosely tied to history and closely aligned with the goal of blending jazz with progressive rock, classical and ambient musics. Opsvik has referred to this album as "experimental cinematic music," and in that regard, he's hugely successful. The scoring of the music, coupled with haunting melodies that often rely on sustained notes and steady beats, implies that some visual imagery should go with it. It doesn't hurt that the cover photo of the bassist looks like it could have been taken in some historical mansion/museum, but that's a personal bias.

The 1700s and 1800s provided the inspiration for Overseas IV and to that end, keyboardist Jacob Sacks takes us to that era by playing harpsichord just as much as he plays piano and Farfisa organ. The old instrument provides an ingenious contrast throughout the album with Brandon Seabrook's electric guitar, which often gets noisy and scratchy. Together with Kenny Wolleson's tympani, Sacks create something of an opening overture with "They Will Hear the Drums - and They Will Answer." Malaby, Opsvik's frequent leader, lends his tenor saxophone to the proceedings, although much of his work on the album creates textures with simple figures.

By continually shifting the melodic focus of the pieces to unexpected instruments or by delaying what might be a "theme," the album can be a bit disorienting initially, requiring some extra scrutiny to fully discover where it's going and where it's been. "1786" (so named because it predated "great upheavels") begins with a drum and harpsichord duet that morphs into a churning groove that lets Malaby sit on the stovetop and gradually come to a boil, in one of the album's few sax solos. It's an abrasive nine minutes, but the way it unfolds is not. In a brilliant sequencing move, Opsvik follows this track with "Silkweavers' Song" where the harpsichord joins up with bowed bass (sounding like a cello at first) and Wolleson's vibes for the ambience of chamber music.

Like a film with an oblique plotline, Overseas IV can perplex you if your mind wanders. "Robbers and Fairground Folk" sounds like a four-note sax lick over a rock rhythm section, until it becomes clear that the direction comes from Seabrook, whose caterwauling, post-Ribot fretwork solos seem to get stronger with each new session he plays. He also brings energy to the spy surf feel of "Michelle Marie," when the repetitive Farfisa starts to sound too clever.

Opsvik also seems to act as the main voice in a couple tunes, which is easy to miss because his bass sometimes lacks the presence or volume it needs in the mix. He leads the way in the pensive "White Armour," over droning chords. In the closing "Youth Hopeth All Things, Believeth All Things" he gets a chance to stand front and center and take off. The setting is just as significant to the overall sound, though: the rhythm evokes prison chain gangs with what sounds like claps from hands and pieces of wood (presumably the "marching machine" for which Wolleson receives credit) and the rest of the band plays slow, ugly chords, closing the album with a long, keyboard drone, not unlike something from vintage Soft Machine.

Moments occur during this album where the band seems to wander or plod along. But by reserving judgement until a track has played through, you're likely to admire the way Opsvik creates rich soundscapes out of what initially sounds like simple harmonic material. Together with players like saxophonist/composer Jeremy Udden (who has used some of these guys in his bands), Eyvind Opsvik is charting a new course for this music that is more accurately described for the images that it can evoke than for what kind of category it belongs to.

There Was a Lot Happening Over the Last 48 Hours

Playing right now: Neighbours debut single, on Get Hip - RED VINYL!

Neighbours played a single release show last night at Gooski's, and damn was it good. I don't think it was the hooch talking last night. (In fact the drink in my head seemed kind of unnecessary by the time the lads went on.) I've described them as mod pop in the past, and they've even progressed further  so that they're not merely emulating a style. Ross' guitar playing recreates that unsustained, hopped-up Jam sound but he's not afraid to make some good noise during a guitar solo or a chorus. Joe's bass playing is really melodic, uses vibrato well and since he's playing some sort of Precision copy [I think] it had a bit of a dirty sound to it. Andy's the most in-the-pocket drummer I've heard in ages, and of course Michael... well he slayed me ages ago as Mr. White Soul Belter.

The night before, I was late yet again  for a show I really wanted to see. Cornetist Josh Berman and cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm were playing at the Shop with tenor saxophonist/bass clarinetist Christoph Erb. [A quick Google search revealed that the trio is going by the name Bererberg.] I got there for the last 10 minutes of their wild free improv, which sounded great. Each guy really had something going on: Josh with his amazing range and great tone; Fred with his skillful use of effects on his instrument; Christoph switching between horns and doing some fine, percussive slap tonguing.

I bought a CD from Fred of his trio with Jason Roebke and Frank Rosaly, called Other Valentines. I've always enjoyed his work, but last night I listened to it and was really loving it. His tone is really strong and emotional, with maybe a touch of vibrato. In addition to originals, he covers Sun Ra, Pink Floyd ("Arnold Layne"!) and Gil Scott-Heron.

No Record Store Day shenanigans for me yesterday. I was tempted to wake up early, as I usually do, and take a trip across the river to the Attic, since they opened at midnight on Saturday morning/Friday night. Last year, they had a line snaking around the corner before they even opened, which made the narrow aisles impossible to negotiate inside. By 6 a.m., I figured there probably wouldn't be a huge crowd there so that would be an ideal time to go. But I was lucky I got up when I did, considering what a few highballs at the Brillobox did to me the night before.

I'll say it right now: I don't need to buy any new records at the moment.

[Note the qualifier there.]

PS On the walk home from Gooski's, I heard that Benny Golson played at the August Wilson Center. What the hay? Where was the publicity for that? Nobody told me!

Last night (Thursday) and tonight (Friday)

Hmmm, I was worried the day would come when the template for the blog would be revamped. I guess it's here. And it's off-putting.

Last night I got to Garfield Artworks 20 minutes into Chris Corsano's set. I could've left the house earlier and caught it all, but nooooooooooo. Anyhow what I saw was astounding. And I don't use that word loosely. Corsano has an amazing technique and a wealth of ideas. He had two mallets in his right hand, one was hitting the ride cymbal and the other was hitting the floor tom. Then he did what looked like a magic trick - one of the mallets disappeared! And with the greatest of ease, he switched out that mallet for a stick.

Not only that - the guy can circular breathe! He started blowing on some plastic hose thing but I didn't realize he was going without breathing until he picked up some instrument with a sax mouthpiece on it and looked like either an Eastern reed instrument [I won't try to approximate the spelling of it] or some toy horn and pressed it to the head of the floor tom. The final piece also involved some device made of metal keys and a pick-up mike which he alternately held in his mouth and wedged in the high hat, getting some overdriven, metallic groove to the music. After melting my brain with that, he drove it home with an amazing solo all over his kit.

Around seven years ago, Corsano left an impression on me when I saw him with saxophonist Paul Flaherty. Last night reminded me that all the memories I have of his crazy technique are still accurate.

Late last night I got a message that Josh Berman and Fred Lonberg-Holm are playing at the Shop here in town. While I wish I had known sooner - in order to tell more people - I'm glad I know. If you're in Pittsburgh and reading this, check this out!

CD Review: Pete Robbins Transatlantic Quartet - Live In Basel

Pete Robbins Transatlantic Quartet
Live in Basel
(Hate Laugh Music) www.peterobbins.com

In the first track of Live in Basel Pete Robbins' alto has that "dry as a martini" tone. Not that he's a Paul Desmond disciple, but he has that no-nonsense sound that doesn't hide behind any sweet vibrato. He uses an adventurous vocabulary that keeps your surprised. It's not exactly the Steve Coleman-esque mathematical complexity, but he probably appreciates that style as well as a Desmond attack.

Still, he's going somewhere else with his own work.

This album seems to be something of a digression for the New York-based saxophonist, as he typically plays in the freer Unnamed Quartet and siLENT Z, and has hung with the likes of John Zorn, Craig Taborn and Mark Dresser. The Transatlantic Quartet includes guitarist Mikkel Ploug, bassist Simon Jermyn and drummer Kevin Brow, a mix of Europeans living in the U.S. and Americans living abroad.

Not knowing Robbins' back story, this set - recorded at the end of a 2010 tour in Switzerland - comes off a bit like a band wrestling with edgy arrangements and the urge to smooth things out. Ploug's guitar sounds clean with a little bit of bite one moment, then chorus-y and a little too devoted to atmospheric a few tracks later. "Hope Tober" which closes the album, relies a little too much on a simple rhythmic displacement as a hook that plays over an anthemic progression.

However, deeper investigation proves that the shortcomings might just be due to the way the band was recorded (i.e. just a tad too far on the clean side). The quartet has a lot of spark under the surface. "Eliotsong" starts things off with a kick, mainly due to the way Brow adds an extra shuffle to the beat he plays on the snare. Jermyn takes the first solo here, an unusual start which works and sets the scene for Ploug and Robbins. "There There" almost feels like a ballad but the group keeps kicking up a gentle storm, Robbins especially as he throws all kinds of moving lines into his solo. Jermyn's intro sounds especially fluid on this track, tossing off cascades of notes with the ease of a guitar. And when Ploug enters, their instruments blend beautifully.

Live in Basel might front-loaded with stronger material, but the energy never wavers and keeps you coming back. It makes these ears want to hear more of this alto player and wonder why I haven't yet.

Matthew Shipp Storms Pittsburgh

I was happily surprised on Saturday night when I walked into the gallery at the First Unitarian Church and saw the sizable crowd for the Matthew Shipp show. Meaning there was close to 50 people there. That might not sound like much but when you compare it to the crowd for a typical free/avant garde show, which you can often count on one hand, this was a success.

I had been geeked and eagerly awaiting this show since I heard about it a few months ago. (Not to toot my own horn but I feel like I was something of a catalyst because I got Matt in touch with Manny who booked it, since the pianist had lost his phone number.) But seeing a sea of faces - both young and older - in the audience was encouraging. It made me wish I had printed up handbills about this blog to get some sort of a network going.

Honestly I've heard nearly all of Shipp's recent albums but can't connect titles with tunes precisely, so this is going to be something of an overview of the evening. Perhaps, I should just say this:

It was a really, really good show. Trust me.

That's probably not even funny as you're reading it, so.... onward...(to borrow a Mort Sahl-ism).

The trio made their way to the stage and immediately launched into a tune that had a boppish feel to the melody even though the tempo was free and floating. For most of the evening, drummer Whit Dickey was staring down towards his snare drum, without needing to look at his arms or the rest of his kit. A few times he started swaying his head, though, getting caught up in the music. What he played never turned into excessive free clatter, but kept it flowing and taut. Bassist Michael Bisio periodically took a whack at his open strings. He was sometimes hard to hear clearly, so this could have been done out of frustration or plain old punctuation. Hard to tell. There were several times throughout the night where he leaned his bass back at an angle and struck the strings that way. I think he was being miked, so another thought is that he didn't want to overdrive the p.a.

And then there was Mr. Shipp. His arms move at the piano in a way that it looks like they're slipping off the keys, like he's brushing off dust. It's a look that contrasts with the rich sound he produces, that has really come to encompass all manner of styles - Monk-like angularity, the bop phrasing, an almost classical sense of melody (which makes perfect sense because that's what he played before jazz). Briefly, he dug into a piano melody that had a strong vocal quality to it, meaning it sounded like an actual voice.

The trio played two sets, each one about 45 minutes. Both included a few minutes where the free flowing sound got a little noodly, but both times, it didn't last too long and they snapped back into something tight. In the first set, Bisio did an amazing bowed solo, moving all over the instrument, including some great metallic squeaks that came from bowing the tail piece. That set also included snatches of "On Green Dolphin Street" and "Someday My Prince Will Come," though I have to admit, I only thought I heard the former and completely missed the latter. (I don't doubt it though because Shipp has recorded "Prince.")

The second set was even more charged up, with the dense and driving "The New Fact" kicking things off. Dickey took a solo during a later piece that had the approach similar to Rashied Ali, going in multiple directions, with snare rolls and cymbal crashes intersecting with power from the rest of his kit. Shipp's minor, doomy take on "Frere Jacques" was pulled out too, which sounds stronger in person than it has on disc, most likely because it doesn't put as much attention on the source material. There was an adolescent boy in the audience who was clearly grooving during this set - which offers proof that this music is accessible to listeners who keep their minds and ears open.

Shipp's 2009 album Harmonic Disorder ends with a track called "When the Curtain Falls on the Jazz Theatre" which I recall has a pretty heavy series of pounding chords (making it a bold and somewhat satirical statement together with the title). Can't say for sure since my copy of Harmonic is buried in a pile somewhere, but that might have been the final piece the trio played. And they received a standing ovation for the whole performance. I hope to see more of these appreciative clappers at other shows like this. Shoot - I want to see more shows like this!

Diamond Terrfier & Patrick Higgins in town

I had an attack of panic last night because this here laptop was moving really slow and was in limbo between going into sleep mode, with a dark screen, and not really going into sleep mode. So it was stuck. Until I woke up this morning and thought about disconnecting the battery and the AC adaptor. It all started when I looked at Judy Henske's website. I think she messed me up. Never thought that woman would do me wrong. So far, everything works.

Now that that's out of the way, I can talk about the Diamond Terrifier show last night at Garfield Artworks. This is the solo saxophone project of Sam Hillner of the Zs. He was on the bill with solo guitarist Patrick Higgins and a handful of local hip hop MCs. Go figure. That's the way things roll at Garfield Artworks. Not that the acts were really compatible. Plus Sam and Patrick were off grabbing dinner or something before the show, which inspired one of the MCs to talk smack on how they weren't cool because they weren't hanging out, and how they're acting like rock stars. I buried my nose in an issue of The Wire while waiting for the rapping to be done. Not that it was bad. It seemed pretty together, and the guys all had tight control over the samples, and their songs were seguing together smoothly.

Higgins took the stage with a small acoustic guitar and an armful of effects pedals. It was clear from the way he was playing his instrument that he had genuine technique. He wasn't just some noise maker. But he did get some good racket going right away, with some dreamy loops and a lot of delay. I thought I had read that he was playing works by Bach and he did make some comment early on about how he was playing "really old shit." Then all of a sudden I recognized ol' Johann Sebastian's "Bouree." (Which I admit I know of thanks to Jethro Tull.) With all the effects on his guitar, it sounded like the music was being transmitted from a satellite and sent around the earth twice before it was broadcast to my ears. It gave a really new creative spin to some old tunes. Before he was done, he also played "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" with all sorts of loops and warped notes weaving through it. Combined with the fact that he kept his set to about 20 minutes - or maybe less - it was a pretty excellent production.

Then Mr. Diamond Terrifier hit the stage. (If you're wondering about the name, you can check out my piece about him in City Paper right here. Actually, he hit the floor, because he set up his line of effects pedals on the floor in front of the stage, putting a microphone in the bell of his tenor and plugging it into said pedals. He began by turning up one of the boxes, which had a loop of a split-second of sound creating a drone, over which he started blowing long tones. Things gradually built in energy, escalating into a flurry of notes, with harmonies and short lines coming through. The collective sound of his tenor and the added pitches from the boxes gave the set a feeling of both beauty and impending doom.

When he started blowing in the low register of his horn, it sounded like a storm was on the horizon. The loop changed from a calm drone to something that sounded like plinking strings or keyboard sounds. Suddenly it was all high tenor shrieks, and the pitches got bent through the pedals, giving it an other worldly sound. The drone gradually shifted again to more of a guitar sound with bent notes. By now, DT was playing a two-note theme, built on low notes from the horn. He went on to embellish the idea, stopping back to revisit it every so often. It was pretty hypnotic. I tried to follow how long the whole performance, but I lost track of time and just listened. Crazy.

I Should Buy This Album Because....um, it's on sale

Playing right now: John Coltrane - Standard Coltrane

Yesterday was the last day of Paul's CDs. The landmark music store is closing, but Paul's employee Karl Hendricks is carrying the tradition on in the same storefront on Liberty Avenue with Sound Cat Music. In fact, both "stores" have been running concurrently since January. Don't ask how or why, it just did, and it worked.

Paul gradually marked down his inventory further and further until it was down to 60% about a week ago, where it stayed through yesterday. I combed through the racks several times over the past couple months, especially when he went down to 40- and 50%. So yesterday with the shelves looking bare in the jazz section, I felt like grabbing anything that looked of interest to me. I had hoped I might be able to get a recent Miles Davis box set, and when I found out that it was gone, I started to examine the one remaining Miles set - Seven Steps to Heaven. I don't even have that album, and this one also including the live albums from that in-between era. I also picked up the Roscoe Mitchell solo saxophone album. And FMP's Cecil Taylor and Han Bennink duet album.

After awhile I reached saturation point. And reality kicked in - am I really interested in all of this stuff in my huge pile? When will I get time to listen to all of it? By listening to it, as I've said ad nauseum here, that means getting to know the music, becoming familiar with the solos or the hooks or the running order - and the song titles. I want to hear all of it. But hearing things is different, slightly, than owning it, and putting it on the pile of other albums that cause you to feel really baffled and ultimately frustrating when you wake up in the morning and want to play something but can't decide what. And in the case of the Miles set, 60% of $106 is still over $40 - a lot of eggs in one basket.

So I narrowed my pile down to 10 things that I needed. The CD playing now was one of them. Then:
John Coltrane - Dakar
Andrew Hill - Dusk
Roland Kirk - Kirk in Copenhagen
Archie Shepp & Roswell Rudd - Live in New York
Bonzo Dog Band - Gorilla (because my vinyl is severely warped)
Mary Celeste - Our Guernica (Local band I missed out on in the mid-'00s; only $6 originally so I couldn't say no any longer)
Louis Armstrong - Hot Fives and Sevens Vols. 1 and 2.
Bo Diddley - Gold (with the family in mind)

Looking at it now, my choices of non-jazz are pretty arbitrary. Oh well, as I said, there was a point where I reached saturation and couldn't take the digging through the racks any longer. I had initially thought of purchasing a couple box sets and flipping them online, but then common sense reminded me that I'd be pretty pissed if they didn't sell.

Coltrane's done so I have to decide what's next.

CD Review: Steve Lehman Trio - Dialect Flourescent

Steve Lehman Trio

Dialect Flurescent

(Pi Recordings) www.pirecordings.com

When Steve Lehman released Travail, Transformation and Flow in 2009, it knocked my socks off. It was edgy music that had brains and brawn; rigid structures that still managed to sound extremely engaging and welcoming. I've got follow every step this alto player makes, I thought. A year later, he and Rudresh Mahanthappa collaborated on Dual Identity (see my review here: http://shanleyonmusic.blogspot.com/2010/10/cd-review-rudresh-mahanthappa-steve.html). It wasn't quite as mind-blowing as Travail but it was still pretty solid.
Dialect Flourescent places Lehman in the context of a trio with Matt Brewer (bass) and Damion Reid (drums), who also played on Dual Identity. Listening to opener "Allocentric" the first few times, something felt a little unsettling about it. Then it hit me: All three guys are playing the same thing; the same tricky time pattern, the same uneven cluster of notes, even Reid. While the delivery is impressive, this kind of thing sounds a little too tense and makes me feel restless. It's almost like math jazz. Part of my hesitation comes from the fact that Travail was played by an octet, so the focus of the music was regularly shifting between three horns and vibes. Here, it's just a bright, semi-sharp alto and rhythm for virtually the whole album. Everything is front and center from the get-go.
Yet as the album proceeds, things loosen up a little, although Lehman's ability to execute a barrage of notes in a solo is something that ceases. (That's a good thing, by the way. It reminds me in a way of when Anthony Braxton covered Monk's "Skippy" at a tempo that made his alto lead sound like a spray of bullets.) The biggest surprise comes in the next track, a reading of John Coltrane's "Moment's Notice." It isn't recognizable until the trio plays the theme at end of it, and even then it's hard to say if they Brewer had been following the changes of the song or not. The album's alternating pattern of following a Lehman piece with a cover continues and provides an interesting view of the band. After each mathy turn, the trio swings fast and furiously through Duke Pearson ("Jeanine") and Lehman's former teacher Jackie McLean ("Mr. E"). Between those two, he chooses a real out-there cover, "Pure Imagination" from the Willy Wonka soundtrack, which gets a little frenzied. "Alloy" and "Fumba Rebel," the two originals in the second half of the album, aren't as locked into the rigidity of the earlier pieces, as if they took a cue from the bop covers.
There are plenty of moments on Dialect Fluorescent that maintain my fascination with Lehman - his speed and agility, the way he solos in unusual groups of note patterns. It's just that the delivery feels the same in many tracks, like the group wants to devour the music rather than savour it. Still, it makes me want to hear more of him, making me tempted to get his other albums and the rest of the discs by Fieldwork, his collaborative trio with Vijay Iyer and Tyshawn Sorey. Maybe I'll listen to this again too.

CD Review: Vijay Iyer Trio - Accelerando

Vijay Iyer Trio
Accelerando
(ACT) http://www.actmusic.com/

For awhile, Accelerando seemed like it was going to be the most anticipated jazz album of the year. So much so that I thought it wasn't going to be officially released for another few weeks, since I hadn't seen anything written about it around the time of its March 13 drop date. Then I remembered all the pre-release hoopla it got at the beginning of the year. Maybe that's why it hasn't popped up anywhere recently: all the hoopla already happened. Then Esperanza Spaudling's album came out yesterday, and after getting the latest JazzTimes and checking out last weekend's Sunday New York Times, it was clear that was the most anticipated album of the year. You don't see Vijay for sale on the counter at Starbucks.
Suffice to say that Accelerando has everything an Iyer head could hope for. The opening chords of "Bode" establish the eager anticipation that something is about to break here. The rubato rumbling goes on for a mere two minutes and change before it fades out. It was a savvy move on the trio's part to do this rather than fleshing it out. This piece was part of their set last year, but considering how they segued a lot together, it's hard to remember if they just used it as an interlude or a full-fledged tune.
In the press release to the album Iyer states, "There is a whole world history of groove and pulse to draw on, and we do." He references influences from Bud Powell to the Meters and the music of India and Africa. On this album the group is clearly in-the-pocket and grooving, albeit not in the traditional sense.
The idea of strange grooves appears in the title track, a three minute piece originally written for a dance performance. It's built on an unsteady time signature that tricks your ears into thinking the trio is about to accelerate into double-time, but it keeps snapping back into a riff. (The title "Accelerando" almost feels like red herring, or sarcasm.) Chordally, it's a pretty straightforward, playing a similar rhythm over a descending progression, but the trio brings a lot of intensity to it.
A different groove happens in the wide open middle section of Michael Jackson's "Human Nature," originally a solo vehicle for the pianist which here gets stretched out to over nine minutes, the longest track on the album. Instead of vamping to get listeners in a party mood, Iyer, bassist Stephan Crump and drummer Marcus Gilmore toy with the riff. It begins when Crump starts adding comments with a funky 4/4 over the flowing rhythm of the head. Gilmore shifts into something subtle that sounds like it shouldn't conjoin with Crump, but it does. Next thing you know, Iyer has set down the changes and taken it somewhere else, kind of vamping but also soloing. When it reaches a climax, everyone steps back towards the theme, but not before Crump plucks some upper register comments.
"Human Nature" comes in the midst of a set of disparate interpretations, following "The Star of a Story" by the '70s R&B band Heatwave ("Always and Forever," "Boogie Nights"), "Wildflower" by revered-but-still-obscure bop pianist Herbie Nichols, "Mmmhmm" by producer Flying Lotus and "Little Pocket Size Demons" by Henry Threadgill.
Too often the act of combining such non-sequitur pieces comes off seeming self-conscious - an attempt to bring together listeners of different musics in some naive utopian way. Or it's a way to show off the vast expanse of their record and CD collection. It feels like that square peg is getting hammered into the round hole, with the splinters flying everywhere in the process. (If I have to use a cliche, I figure it should embellish the imagery a little.)
With Vijay Iyer, the diversity just feels natural. It's in his blood. It's in his brain. Crump and Gilmore play a big role in that too. So does Steve Coleman, probably, for expanding Iyer and Gilmore's mind with regards to rhythms and whatnot.
So yes - the most anticipated release of the year. I am curious to hear what Esperanza has up her sleeve, but these guys can blow minds and make it seem easy.

CD Reviews: Charles Gayle Trio & Chicago Underground Duo

Northern Spy has become a pretty prolific label in just a few short years. They've specialized in the more intense free improv and noise with bands like the Zs, the Jooklo Duo and Spanish Donkey (the latter featuring guitarist Joe Morris and keyboardist Jamie Saft). But these two releases bring two established and fairly reknown acts to their roster, which ought to bring more curious ears to their homebase to check everyone else out.

Charles Gayle Trio
Streets

Charles Gayle's catalog is pretty extensive, to put it mildly. A random sampling might draw on blistering free improvisations lasting up to 45 or 50 minutes at a pop, or the saxophonist's unique and knowledgeable takes on jazz standards. And then there's Gayle's past history of living homeless, allegedly by choice at least for awhile - which incorporates his devout religious beliefs - and his persona of Streets, a sad-faced clown whom he portrayed onstage in the '90s and whom he resurrects for the cover and title of this latest album.

Streets finds Gayle back on his original tenor horn (he has played alto in the past, not to mention piano and, more recently, upright bass). His tone is gruff, sounding something akin to a bar walking r&b honker. While his music is nowhere near that style, neither does he hit the ground screaming either. "Compassion I" begins with a descending line that feels like a Coltrane-esque theme, and Gayle develops that over Larry Roland's double stops and Michael TA Thompson's snare cracks. This track also shows a surprising sense of economy: Gayle's first solo ends around 2:55 and he turns the spotlight on Thompson. Before the track ends just a couple minutes later, Roland also gets in a solo.

The title track brings in some wide tenor vibrato over a droning bowed bass. At 10 minutes, this gives the trio a chance to stretch out, and even though things sound disjointed in the way they move, they still support each other. More surprises come in "March of April," with its marching drum beat, and "Doxology," another 10-minute piece that has a surprise coda that turns into a ballad courtesy of some more vibrato, this time more romantic than Ayler-esque.

"Tribulations" joyfully smashes the mood set up by "Doxology," heading into some old school Gayle wailing. Here, the trio evokes the image of a domestic fight in a classic film, with dishes being thrown as voices flair. Only in this case, that's a good thing. Long time Gayle supporters should enjoy this whole set. Those new to his work, who don't know where to start with his output, would do well to begin here.

Chicago Underground Duo
Age of Energy

Rob Mazurek and Chad Taylor have been making albums with the Chicago Underground moniker for 15 years, always challenging listeners to rethink the possibilities for what a couple guys (and the occasional extra friends) can create. Anyone who just wants to hear wild cornet and drums blowing is going to have to wait.

Age of Energy finds the duo creating a lot of texture and mood, sometimes very slowly, where things don't always move at a steady pace. "Winds and Sweeping Pines" last nearly 20 minutes and doesn't rush to get the action started. After four minutes of outer space electronics, a bassline finally surfaces, and Taylor gives it a backbeat 60 seconds later. This continues for about another five minutes, without much presence beyond the groove. In the last quarter of the track, things finally feel energized when a faster bass riff sets up Mazurek's cornet, and Taylor joins him.

"It's Alright" feels like a modern version of something like Miles Davis' "He Loved Him Madly" from Get Up With It. A loop of electronics drones in the background while Mazurek sings the title through a wall of tremolo and blows some cornet through the haze. Some wild sounds pass through, like something that sounds like a feedback loop that speeds up and slows down, but it might have been more exciting if Mazurek played something more lines than long tones.

Taylor plays mbira (African finger piano) on "Castle In Your Heart," which sounds a little distorted and overdriven. The effect gives it a lot of presence and makes the duet with the cornet (the sole acoustic tune here) one of the albums best moments. With that, the duo wraps things up with the title track, a wild blend of buzzing synth lines, wild drumming and energetic horn blowing.

Check out these and more at www.northern-spy.com

CD Review: Lambchop - Mr. M

Lambchop

Mr. M

(Merge) www.mergerecords.com

Mr. M opens with the sweet strain of strings, which had me wondering if I was listening to the wrong album. Then Kurt Wagner makes his entrance with the line, "Don't know what the fuck they talk about," which serves to reassure that yes, this is the right place.

The band couldn't have picked a better way to pay homage to their late friend and collaborator Vic Chesnutt than with that line's blend of salty honesty and semi-sweet delivery. The song is titled "If Not I'll Just Die" which comes - probably not coincidentally - from the final line of Burt Bacharach's "This Guy's In Love With You." But this song sounds less like a love song than an overview of the scene of the recording, where Wagner comments on the sound of the strings, offers a desire for some flutes (which never happens) and adds that Grandpa is coughing in the other room. Regardless, it's a great scenario and a good way to open an album.

The rest of Mr. M, Lambchop's 11th album, finds Wagner sketching out more stories, some as immediately engaging as "If Not I'll Just Die" and some not quite as successful. His delivery almost makes him sound like a crooner in the old fashioned style, with the lack of technique coming to the surface occasionally, adding to the authenticity. That plays to the band's claim years ago as being "Nashville's most fucked-up country band." But other times, his vibrato gets to be a little too much. Sometimes it sounds like he's out of breath or doing an Aaron Neville. And he drops syllables periodically, which really gets frustrating in "Kind Of" because the payoff line kind of depends on the adjective.

When the group takes the songs at a Pink Floyd tempo, Mr. M works better in small doses. Half the 12 songs last over five minutes, with two clocking in around seven. Yet, even when they take their time getting to their destination, the band manages to throw in something that keeps you coming back. The long coda of "Gone Tomorrow" brings the slow movement to a crescendo, with what sounds like some guitar noise from the other room seeping into one channel. "The Good Life (Is Wasted)" has an undercurrent of distortion in the arrangement.

All through the album, the strings rarely play with vibrato, and even when they do, the effect is rich and never sappy. Several songs also make good use of angelic, wordless back-up singers, especially in the instrumental "Betty's Overture," which is based on a chord pattern similar to Jobim's "How Insensitive." (Could be another coincidence, but Wagner and his crew seem to be pretty wise to the world of such music.) This cut also has some fuzz bass hiding in the corner, and a great blend of the strings and lower brass.

The album ends with "Never My Love," which is not the Association song of the same name. Instead it acts like a hopeful ending in which Wagner sings about "my stupid love," as a way of being self-deprecating, and insure this love song won't get too maudlin. The approach makes it a more realistic take on the traditional love song, and the back-up vocals, which here sound like a theremin, contribute to the mood.

Mr. M might not be an easy album to get through, but it's pretty engrossing anyway.

Staycation, CD purchases and Davy Jones

My staycation is nearly over. I'm back to work on Tuesday. And I have done squat in terms of blogging. In fact the last entry was written BEFORE the vacation started. Well, part of that had to do with my laptop fizzling out and needed a new hard drive. That was two or three days of driving back and forth to get work done on it and taking the start-up discs there. Tell ya what, though, I feel like I've already gotten my money out of the Geek Squad. I had to get them to help me reinstall a crucial program this morning. It took half a day and they were cool about it.

For those of you in Pittsburgh who don't already know, Paul's CDs has now knocked their going out of business prices down to 40% off. I went in and went crazy today, after having already been in there once earlier in the week. Today's booty includes an FMP Cecil Taylor big group (with Charles Gayle), the ECM trio Fly, Thelonious Monk w/John Coltrane (all I have is a crappy dub from 20+ years ago), Archie Shepp, a live Pernice Brothers CD and I think one other thing. I did get the wife a Scott Walker disc too.

I suppose this is the place where I should opine about the passing of Davy Jones, Monkees booster that I am. To be honest Davy was never my favorite Monkee. In fact he might have been my least favorite, the highest honor going to Mr. Nesmith - for both his first name and for the fact that he played guitar, which when I got a couple of their albums at the tender age of 5 or 6, was a serious criteria. (Why else would I have thought Tito Jackson was the coolest member of the Jackson 5?) And I just can't shake the memory of an interview Davy gave the Post-Gazette in 1999 when he came here on tour with Bobby Sherman and some other idol like Peter Noone. He trashed the rest of the Monkees, sounding bitter and whiny. Unfortunately the P-G's online service doesn't go back that far, otherwise I'd link it.

Still, it doesn't seem right that Davy has left us so soon. He was always good for a couple of yuks. There's the recurring, "I am standing up," joke from the series, that was riffed on endlessly. "You must be joking," was another stock line. Besides "I'll Be True to You" is a really strong cut on the first album. Actually, the first four Monkees albums have some decent Davy cuts on them. ("I Wanna Be Free" serving as one of the more notable exceptions.) And despite his nasty thoughts in the above interview, an article this weekend made him seem like the nice Monkee while Peter Tork was the crabby one. So there are some benefits that come with being Mr. Entertainer.

Hospitality on Parade

Blurt posted my Hospitality profile yesterday! Check it out here.

I never linked the article I wrote about Alice Bag, which is here. If you have any interest in the first LA punk scene, please check this out, as well as her book.

Among the reviews I've written for them, there's a band called SorryEverAfter, which features Mike Cloward, who played in 28th Day with Barbara Manning. That one's here.

Two Shows in Two Nights in One Place

I spent Tuesday AND Wednesday night at the Thunderbird Cafe, for jazz no less. The bar typically caters to rock and somewhat bluesy bands, but they actually have jazz here and there. Besides over the past couple years I think I've blogged and preview enough shows that it wouldn't see too out of the ordinary.

Tuesday night was the weekly Space Exchange event. (See January entries for an explanation.) The group this week was Book Exchange, a trio of Exchange curators Ben Opie (tenor and alto) and Dave Throckmorton (drums) with bassist Jeff Grubbs. I used to see Jeff on an almost weekly basis when the Crawford Grill was open and they had a Monday night jam session. By day, so to speak, he's a bassist in the Pittsburgh Symphony. He's definitely a great player and it was even more exciting to see him in this capacity: playing tunes by Thelonious Monk, Ornette Coleman and Anthony Braxton. Those three composers are near and dear to Ben's heart, as well as mine.

Considering how Ben will never be really viewed as a "traditional" player, it was great to hear him start off a set with what were essentially two blues tunes, Monk's "Ba-lue Bolivar Ba-lues Are" and Ornette's "Blues Connotation," although the latter could go anywhere after the theme. I was trying to pay close attention to where Jeff was going during the Ornette tunes, but kept getting distracted by the other tunes instruments. Not a bad thing at all, though.

The night had a good crowd, which I was glad to see. I invited a couple friends, and one showed up with three more people in tow, all of whom seemed to dig the music.

The next night brought the return of the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble, Kahil El'Zabar's longstanding unit. He has come here several times over the past couple years, bringing Hamiett Blueitt with him a few of those times, but this lineup was really the tops. The kind that makes you think that a $16 ticket is worth it for what you get. (That was the advance price. It was $20 at the door. I mention this because us Pittsburghers often have sticker shock at covers like that. You big city slickers might be used to it, but we're not. Which may explain why we don't get a lot of jazz like this on a regular basis.) Along with percussionist El'Zabar were trumpeter Corey Wilkes and tenor/alto saxophonist Ernest Dawkins.

They played two sets which were fairly reminiscent of previous El'Zabar shows - a riff that he set up on the kalimba, a tune where he played trap kit, a tune his massive conga drum - but this band had a special electricity going through it. El'Zabar is solid to begin with. It's amazing to watch him stand there for 15 minutes clicking out the riff on the finger piano (which he runs through an amp!), shaking bells around his ankle and never varying the tempo.

The two horn men were really astounding. When Dawkins started soloing, I got the feeling that he's not just a good player, he's top tier. Amazing tone, incredible vocabulary and execution. While Fred Anderson might not be around to guide the younger Chicago players, the city is in good hands as long as Dawkins is around. And damn, why did I miss him in 2010 when he came with his New Horizons Ensemble? (Check out a review of their last CD here.) Wilkes also proved himself to be a really inventive trumpet player, referencing all sorts of styles in his work, be it Harmon mute shadings or wilder moments. A few years ago, he filled the trumpet chair in the Art Ensemble of Chicago vacated by Lester Bowie. That's a tall order, and he was then and he is now fit for the job. On top of that, his own music has a straighter edge to it, so he really draws on a disparate bunch of ideas.

The Ensemble played two sets. The first was about 45 minutes, just three full tunes, including of all things "Cherokee," with El'Zabar on conga. The second set was more like an hour, the only less-than-satisfying thing coming when he told the two horn guys, "I got it," meaning "Don't play anything" and he went off on an extended conga and verbalizing solo that could've been a little shorter. (By the way, Dawkins slayed me with his extra percussion during Wilkes' solos, with the way he threw in little extras here and there, including a Roland Kirk-type whistle.) So it was well worth the cover charge. Don't miss these guys next time.

CD Review: Tim Berne - Snakeoil

Tim Berne
Snakeoil
(ECM) www.ecmrecords.com

This isn't the first time Tim Berne has appeared on ECM. He played on David Torn's prog-improv album Prezens in 2007. But this represents his first session as a leader for the landmark label. Anyone who has followed the label with any regularity realizes that producer Manfred Eicher gives his sessions a unique sound. (So unique that I was able to identify it when I heard an ECM album playing in a coffeeshop last week.) So too does Tim Berne have a singular approach, one that he has admitted to using repeatedly, changing up the musicians when it's necessary to keep it fresh.

And from the opening moments (ever notice that ECM discs always begin with at least five seconds of silence?), Snake Oil is an ECM album. Matt Mitchell's piano has than tranquil sound that evokes snowy European peaks (personal image). It doesn't sound smooth or new age-y, but sonically it's a far cry from Downtown New York, even if it was recorded there.

Berne's alto doesn't enter until three minutes into "Simple City," and when he does it's classic Berne - sharp-tongued and fiercy, jousting with drummer Ches Smith over the scene. Like his best compositions, the piece goes through many shapes and changes, though at 14 minutes, it might be considered a shorter work for him. Oscar Noriega, who rounds out the quartet and acts as the reed foil on clarinet and bass clarinet, solos in the final section, his clear tone fitting in with the ECM aura. Berne had Chris Speed double on clarinet in Bloodcount, but Noriega's parts and even his tone often echo the way guitarist Marc Ducret harmonized in his appearances with several of his groups.

At times throughout Snake Oil, the quartet sounds like Eicher took the edge off of Berne, who is known for screaming crescendos and extended pieces where structures morph into different movements as soloists blow over them. The saxophonist's proclivity for repetitious choppy lines remains ("Scanners") but sometimes the fluid, calmer parts just seem to bask in the mood of that moment. Smith might be playing in a manner like Jim Black but that unpolished crack doesn't quite across.

But the full depth of a Tim Berne album often doesn't come out until numerous, engrossed listens. Snake Oil continues in that way. Just when "Not Sure" doesn't seem to be moving beyond a free interlude of alto and bass clarinet, it shifts into a knotty theme, and Mitchell plays over the jerky changes, which is a new thing for acoustic piano is almost never been heard on a Berne album. I've listened to this a lot in the past two weeks, and I'm still getting surprised each time.

So maybe Berne writes variations on the same thing with different configurations of players, but there's still new discoveries with each excursion.

And no, they don't cover the great Tony Williams Lifetime tune "Snake Oil." Alas.

Another show: Andrea Parkins & Iris

Last night Andrea Parkins and Iris performed at the William Pitt Union at the University of Pittsburgh. Two decades ago that building was my second home, including one semester when I actually did sleep there (or tried to) between finishing my overnight shift at WPTS-FM at 6 a.m. and going to a music theory class at 9 a.m. (Bad idea. I was always sick that semester and even lost my voice about three hours into my shift on one fateful night.)

But anyhow, walking into the Union was a strange step back in time, even though I have been there in recent years. It was really weird, though, to go to an electro-acoustic improvisation show in the fancy room that's normally reserved for quiet study (and sleeping) during the week and the invite-only reception for the Pitt Jazz Seminar at other times. When I was going to school there, we never got to hear free improv in that spot.....

Lo and behold that's where the lovely Ms. Parkins and her European co-horts were to play. Before them, though Ben Opie and Matt Wellins performed a piece where Opie played clarinet and alto, and Wellins manipulated it through a bank of effects, turning the single tones into droning chords, swooshing stereo ping-pong percussive effects and repetitions of what Opie played seconds prior to it coming from the speakers. It was soothing but also engrossing.

Iris reminded me that I have a problem with free improvisers who put an excessive amount of effort into playing an instrument when the sound they produce doesn't sound one-tenth as powerful. The best example would be the guitarist who acts like that E chord is the hardest thing in the world to play. A personal example that made me skeptical was seeing Mats Gustafsson wrench and twist over his baritone sax in order to produce "bweeeeeeeeee." [Note -I keep trying to get that sound to appear in a teeny point size, but it's not working. So just imagine it.]

And I got that feeling while watching two members of Iris last night. Cellist Didier Petit began the set barefoot, and make sweeping gestures where he seemed like he was going to get out of his chair, only to sit back down, hit the back of his cello with his right foot, swing the bow around, hit the cello again.... He swung his bow around so viciously that I prayed it wasn't on loan from Pitt. He also looked like he was casting a circle. Later on, he actually did get up and walk to the back of the room while swinging the cello like a pendulum.

Drummer Edward Perraud did a lot of grand gesturing too, waving his arms like he was about to kick into a Zeppelin song, only to land a crash on his snare or a "whump" on his kick drum. He has some sort of contact mike connected to his high-hat, which he ran through a sampler of some kind, since he bent the sound around with a knob on it. Also, he showed great skill at bowing his cymbals. But none of this ever seemed to come together into one thing. It just seemed like he was running through his various fields of expertise, without using them for a whole concept. And he was overdoing it in the delivery department.

Of course Perraud and Petit might have been acting this way to contrast the looks of Parkins and Hans Tammen, who both sat at tables in front of laptops. Petit especially looked the role of tenured professor in his suit jacket, and at times the duo could've been checking email for all we in the small but rapt audience knew. Parkins picked up her accordion a few times, but she just used it for slow drones, not convoluted groups of notes.

I'll admit I went there expecting an Andrea Parkins performance more in line with what she did with Ellery Eskelin more than a decade ago at Pitt, which means something more in the neighborhood of freewheeling jazz. I'm open to more intense, industrial, noisy electro-acoustic stuff like this, and while moments of it were nice, the four of them didn't lock in to anything as a group.

Correction

I just came across a notepad that I took to the Man Forever show, and realized that I made a mistake. There's a scrawl that mentions how the bass line sounded like a slowed-down intro to "Shaft," two long notes that ring out, probably F to E. So they didn't just play one chord the whole time.

Also, I got word that the Engine label's website is getting redone, so it should be up soon. In the meantime, Steven Walcott the man behind the label, has a blog at http://thecrosspollinator.wordpress.com/about/ Check it out if you like. Buy some of his CDs too.

Man Forever in Pittsburgh - WOAH

Thursday night, Man Forever played at Gooski's. The band is the project of John Kolpitts, who's better known as Kid Millions of the band Oneida and most recently of White Hills. There will be an album out on Thrill Jockey in a few months and judging from the bio for that album, it seems like they played the piece "Ur Eternity" the other night.

Four guys were seated center stage around two snare drums, banging away. I'm not sure how long they had been playingwhen I made my way back because the jukebox was still going in the front of the bar. Each snare was shared by two of the guys, and they were getting this wild overtone that sounded like a guitar or bass. And there were guys onstage with both of those instruments - along with an organ, maybe a Farfisa - but they weren't playing anything yet. The sound was relentless: steady rhythms going on the skins without a break. Gradually the bass, organ and guitar started playing. They played one chord. For about 40 minutes. I think the piece worked kind of like a palindrome, with the instruments dropping out in the opposite order that they started. Can't say for sure because I was in the front of the bar, listening from a distance.

Writing about it now, it sounds pretty interesting. Sort of like Terry Riley for the stoner rock generation. I have to admire the discipline and stamina of the guys too. But Thursday night, I had to step away from the band. Not only was it unbelievable loud - they miked the drums for pete's sake - it just got a little claustrophobic after awhile. For those who haven't had the pleasure of visiting Gooski's, the back room where the bands play is pretty small and intimate. The pool table usually becomes a spot that people lean on to watch the bands, and the ping pong table is folded up in the corner.

Years and years ago, I saw a band of locals play something similar to this: I got there mid-performance as they were banging out an A chord, Velvet Underground-style. (I think narcotics might've factored into the set.) 10 minutes later they were still playing it. Five minutes later I left the room. Man Forever has more method to what he/they do, but it was still a little hard to take, especially after a few gin and sodas.

At the same time, I received an advance of his new album and I'm kind of intrigued to see what it sounds like.

Plasma Expander played first, all done up in hospital scrubs, complete with masks. The bassist hit his strings as they were taking the stage and it was so loud I think I jumped in my seat. Stuff like that usually doesn't faze me. They were kindred spirits with Man Forever: lotta one chord, dropped-tuned drones with the variations coming from the drums.

CD Review: Trio Caveat/Josh Sinton - Introspective Athletics/Pine Barren

Trio Caveat - Introspective Athletics/ Josh Sinton - Pine Barren

(Engine)

(Note: The website for Engine seems to have vanished. The url I listed a couple years ago in a review doesn't work anymore. There are a couple different labels with this name, but it is NOT the one that's in Germany, nor is it the one that James McCartney records for. And by the way, who know that Baby Sir Paul was making music?)

Punk rock bands do split singles and split albums all the time, so it's about time that avant garde cats took that idea and ran with it. This is one time that it makes sense to release a 72-minute disc rather than two 36-minute ones. Further, Engine's production sense (covers printed on recycled chipboard, complete with detailed credits) offers a different take on jamming econo.

Trio Caveat consists of bassist James Ilgenfritz, tenor/soprano saxophonist Jonathan Moritz and guitarist Chris Welcome. With an opening track titled "Clicks, Beeps, Buzzing," it becomes clear that the group gets into free improvisation, with a healthy attitude towards the sounds they create, if the titles are any indication. Things begin with each of them feeling the space, producing some plinking, bowing and blowing, with no one letting a line get too long. This is a subdued free improvisation.

Although Moritz blows almost as hard for quiet sections as the loud ones, this session is not a demonstration of extended techniques, where this reed style joins a steady stream of bows that scrape out extreme harmonics and guitars are ravaged beneath the bridge or over the pick-ups. In fact, "Introspective Athletics" glides along as if it were a composed piece, like a ballad that meets some tension along the way. At 6:57, it's also one of only two tracks out of nine that come in over six minutes. Most are five or under.

Not to write off the aforementioned type of extreme improv, but Trio Caveat balances the temptation for extreme free blowing with measured, empathetic interaction. Ilgenfritz and Moritz seem to naturally pull back in "Fractured Flakes, Torrent of Frantic" to let Welcome play a twangy solo that moves upward. The bassist has the spotlight for his own strong arco approach in "Mellifluous Chirps." Moritz works like the glue that holds it together, going from wild bird noises to more orthodox blowing. It's extreme music but it's very engaging.

Josh Sinton describes his solo saxophone and clarinet album as "a (poor) attempt at spiritual alchemy. I made it in the hopes that my own relived memories would not haunt my daughter Zosia." It's probably a good idea to keep these tracks from Zosia for a few years. Everyone else should check them out.

Sinton's axes of choice work well in the solo format: baritone saxophone, bass clarinet and contrabass clarinet. "Water for My Father" begins softly with a quiet, simple melody, only to explode as Sinton simultaneously blows and growls through his baritone. Perhaps in response that intense, visceral delivery, "The Earth for My Father" finds him firing off rapid arpeggios up and down his horn via circular breathing, as to prove to Pop he knows his way around the horn. Even though it's an exercise, Sinton makes it work as a performance too.

A track called "My Clarinet Teacher" begins with Sinton intoning, "Eeeeeeeesential principles of good clarinet playing," and going into some catchy bass clarinet licks that digress into nasty honks. Again, he balances out the wild and wooly with the pensive "I'm Still Trying."

By the time "Full of it... Love, That Is" comes around, it comes as no surprise that Sinton would dive into the contrabass clarinet's lower register for some ugly squonk. (Hell, I would too.) What's refreshing is his command of the instrument, which sounds like a cross between a gong and an industrial vacuum cleaner. For album closer "Through the Trees I Saw Stone Caves on a Beach," Sinton overdubs all three horns (some multiple times) to create a densely layered, somewhat repetitive, rhythmically loose but ultimately satisfying work that proves these big horns can float easily when given the right ideas.

If he sounds this good on his own, I'd like to hear him with a group.

Double 7-inch review: Zs- 33

Zs

33

(Northern Spy) www.northern-spy.com

This review sort of ties continues with the thought I had in yesterday's post about how to the format of promos can make a big difference in the way new releases are perceived. Although this particular release is a whole different can of worms.

Zs are a trio of free improvisers from Brooklyn, hellbent on creating tense performances whenever they set up. That must be the case when the label uses words like "juggernaut" and phrases like "music that challenges the physical and mental limitations of both performer and listener" to describe the band. And Northern Spy is a label for some reason I trust not to use hyperbole like that loosely. After a dozen years, if Zs hasn't opted to trade in all that free squonk for funk riffs, the description probably fits.

33 comes in the form of a double seven-inch set, packaged in a silk-screened fold-out sheath. Each side contains what sounds like a snippet of a larger improvised performance, each lasting between three and four minutes before abruptly stopping. No balls-to-the-wall noisefest, these pieces focus mainly on drummer Ian Antonio, who plays around on the toms of his kit, creating a dense thunder. On vinyl, this is the kind of sound that could overload your stylus, much like PiL's Metal Box did years ago. Listening to it on CD while driving around (yes, I received a download, which is understandable considering the limited edition status), it felt like the something might be rattling somewhere underneath the car. Turns out it was Antonio, or some post-production reverb effect on his kit.

All four tracks bear the release's title, followed by an extra character. On "33-" the toms are joined by Ben Greenberg's guitar skronk and some pensive tenor sax work from Sam Hillmer, who also has some echo/delay on his horn. The overall impact sounds like a sonic ripple effect. In "33/" Antonio could simply be testing the sound of his toms, as Greenberg plays some short, pensive two-note lines that hang in the air. Hillmer hangs back, adds some low rumbles. As random as these elements sound, a connection can be felt between them, due in part probably to the limited space of the track.

Things get a bit louder on "33~" with more rim clatter coming from Antonio, and Greenberg's tone resembling a gargling surf guitar. Hillmer recreates feedback on his horn, building to a small climax before dropping out and lettings his mates take it down in the last 30 seconds. "33\" has some phantom instruments bobbing in the mix. Hillner is blowing some un-tenor sounding noises, but it also sounds like a phantom baritone sax has wandered into the room. Initially the piece sounds like Zs are ready to kick up some dust, but things just amble along until - snip, it's over.

Having previewed these tracks together on disc, I was able to develop more of a complete feeling for the set. One piece lead into another, making it more of a four-part thing, and a touch more interesting. At the same time, hearing them on vinyl, where the fidelity is open up to different factors, might result in a completely different appreciation. And guys, if they're so short, why not master them at 45? Was that the idea?

I usually don't like asking questions in a review. Then again I usually don't like being so first-person either, but Zs can bring that out in a guy, methinks. Northern Spy - who has also just released albums by Charles Gayle and Chicago Underground Duo - has plans to release a retrospective Zs boxset, as well as solo releases by these guys. The idea sounds both intriguing and foreboding.

CD Review: Amir El Saffar Two Rivers Ensemble - Inana

Amir ElSaffar Two Rivers Ensemble

Inana

(Pi) www.pirecordings.com

As bold and intense as Amir ElSaffar's Two Rivers album (Pi, 2007) was, Inana comes across as an even more intense and beautiful work. Born on these shores to an Iraqi father and an American mother, the trumpeter spent five years studying the maqam in the Middle East and Europe. (To show how eclectic he is, this occurred after he received a degree in classical trumpet and moved to New York to play jazz with Vijay Iyer and Rudresh Mahanthappa.) The way he blends these studies with a probing style of jazz, which bears hints of AACM and Ornette Coleman, sounds astounding, especially in the way that neither influence gets watered down in the process.

In fact what makes the melodies on this album so effective comes in the way that ElSaffar and tenor/soprano saxophonist Ole Mathisen are able to create microtonal pitches used in maqam while playing Western instruments. While it might sound initially like "flat" notes to uninitiated listeners, the blend of instruments eventually helps you adjust to the sound.

All but the last of the nine tracks on the album make up "The Inana Suite," inspired by a Mesopotamian goddess of carnal love and warfare, who could stir up trouble wherever she went. While that scenario seems like it could invite some free blowing, the music is tightly written and arranged. "Dumuzi's Dream" begins with a bass drone courtesy of Carlo DeRosa that evokes Coleman's "Lonely Woman." ElSaffar and Mathisen state the undulating theme which works almost like a call and response with Tareq Abboushi (buzuq) and Zafer Tawil (oud). Afterward, the first solo comes from the leader, who doubles on santour, an Iraqi hammered dulcimer. The sound of its strings have a unique attack that evokes both banjo and tabla, as it slithers over the groove. Behind it all, Nasheeet Waits keeps the pulse flowing and throughout the album makes sure the music has a strong swing to it. Mathisen's solo here sounds much more Western, but he still comes up with a unexpected pattern of melodies, which do much more than build on the drone.

The suite progresses through the four-part "Inana's Dance" (three of which come together in one track), and move among other places into "Infinite Variety," one of the pieces that doesn't draw directly on the maqam. Build on six different counterpoint melodies, it bears an ancestoral link to the Art Ensemble of Chicago, sounding like a loping march with trumpet and soprano sliding in and out of sync with each other, always answering the other right when things seem off.

The 15-minute "Journey to the Underworld" brings the narrative to a head, going through multiple structures, starting with ElSaffar on vocals, which draw on the microtonal approach of the other pieces. While voices like this sometimes can feel even more jarring to these ears than the bent voices of the horns, ElSaffar's rich vocals have a way of making this setting just as captivating as the rest of the set. "Al-Badia," the album's coda and token non-suite track, has a great harmonic bass line that sets the scene for another blend of Eastern melody with jazz structure, complete with muted trumpet.

Stop me if I've made this point before, but the reason so much world music sounds flat to these ears is due to the way it leaves out the essential edge and passion that makes the music so vital and exciting. Amir ElSaffar has again assembled a group of sympathetic musicians who know how to keep the appropriate sparks flying, and the results are enthralling.

Allow me to clear my throat...

The end of the year must've been a dry spell and January must've picked up, or else I wouldn't have waited so long to post again. That's all going to change.... tonight. I think I finally am going to force myself to review a bunch of albums for the past few months.

So what has been going on?

Let's see... about three weeks ago Hospitality came to the Brillobox. I interviewed them for a piece in Blurt which ought to be popping up on the site pretty soon. Hospitality's album came out on Merge last week and seems to be generating some well deserved buzz. When the article runs, I might ask politely if I can get a finished copy of the album. I like my download, but it'd be nice to have a lyric sheet in front of me to help with the full experience.

Which reminds of something I wanted to opine about a couple weeks ago. I wrote about Kathryn Calder's latest album when it came out last fall (Bright and Vivid, on File Under: Music). The interview was conducted via email via a publicist. And it was okay, though there was no rapport there and I was going on a download of the album sent by said publicist.

I don't have a problem with that. The record wasn't out yet. BUT, once the article ran (a print article at that), I asked if I could get a finished copy of the disc. I like Kathryn's stuff a lot and would come back to it. After two emails with promises of yes, I'd get it... it never came. I'm not about to beg, and since I wanted it bad enough, I had it ordered for me here in town. (I'd've gone for the vinyl but it was $25 on the website and the store couldn't get it.)

So with the full artwork in front of me, one song into the album, I had two or three questions spring to mind that could've made the article a lot more compelling.

What's my point? We scribes understand why downloads are an easy way to get new releases to us, but when you take away the tactile part of the release - the stuff that some artists work a long time to complete - you take away an element that could result in the most compelling part of the article.

Did you think I was going to boo-hoo about not getting a freebie? No. That was just a tangent.

Rhapsody Jazz Critic's Poll

Here's a link to the Rhapsody Jazz Critic's Poll, of which I was a part. http://www.rhapsody.com/blog/2012/01/davis

You can view each critic's individual Top 10 at the end of the piece. Mine is there but for some reason they didn't list my affiliation with JazzTimes or this blog. FIE!

Up until about 10 minutes ago, I swore today was Friday.

Herculaneum Came to Pittsburgh

Playing right now: Herculaneum - Uchu

I got to see the above Chicago-based band and thought it fit to spin their album while writing about them this morning. They played at AVA, which hosts a Monday night jazz jam each week but doesn't usually have live bands. Most of the time, they present d.j.s.

There had been some confusion about this show, because at first I wasn't sure if it was going to happen at the Shadow Lounge (the older venue that's connected to AVA) or here. Then, not seeing any listing for it anywhere, I wondered if it was still happening. But I heard from the band's drummer Dylan Ryan that yes, it was going to happen and things would start at 7 p.m. Which of course meant 8 p.m., which is also fine, since that allowed for me to run across the street and get some pizza. (I hadn't had dinner.)

Herculaneum consists of four horns - trombone (Nick Broste), alto sax (David McDonnell), tenor sax/flute (Nate Lepine), and trumpet (Patrick Newbery) - plus Ryan on drums and Greg Danek on bass. A review in NPR described them as "like Charles Mingus if he lived in the 21st century" which gets to the heart of the matter, I suppose. But their tendency to play in non-4/4 time made me think of Dave Holland's larger bands, or something in league with another great horn-heavy band, Dead Cat Bounce.

Their tunes, many written by Ryan, with some by McDonell, Lepine and Newbery, often have simple chordal structures, with Danek holding things together with a steady riff, which leaves the horns to play melodies and countermelodies and harmonies on top of them. Things never got too free, though it was often at arms length. I especially liked McDonell's approach on alto, since he sounded pretty melodic but he wasn't after to overblow a little or get into a high trill for dramatic sake. There simply aren't enough trombone players doing this kind of music so I always seem to get caught up what they do. Broste was no exception. I thought of Roswell Rudd during one of his solos and I'm not sure if that's an accurate assessment or if it came to mind because he sounded gruff. Ryan really kept things swinging too, especially in the 5/4 tunes. Every so often he'd let fly with some killer accent during a solo. One time he even started a song sounding like George Hurley. (I heard he's actually from California, so maybe that's why.)

Uchu, the album I'm playing, is out on vinyl, so I had to buy it. I had a no-cover advance sent to me that didn't even have the song titles on the one-sheet, so it was a necessary purchase. I also got a copy of a previous disc that Clean Feed put out. Look these cats up at Herculaneumsound.com

Best of 2011? I forget

Before we get too involved in 2012, I want to weigh in on the subject of "Best of 2011" lists. And I have a feeling that this commentary will be very similar to what I wrote about a year ago on the subject.

I was asked to participate not only in the JazzTimes Best Of tabulations but also the Jazz List for what used to run in conjunction with the Village Voice, but this year will be posted on rhapsody.com next week. This year, I felt like I was a lot more familiar with more albums and would have a more vast opinion on the subject. Compared to last year, when I bought two of the Top 10 albums after reading about the list (Jason Moran's Ten and Paul Motian's Lost in a Dream, which both deserved their accolades, by the way). But I did a lot of hemming and hawing anyway: "Yeah, I heard that and it's good, but, ah........ I don't know if it'd go in my Top 10. What about this? I'm not sure about that either."

Much to my surprise, when I looked at downbeat's round-up of all the albums that received five-, four-and-a-half and four-star reviews, I didn't even know the albums that got five. Maybe I shouldn't confess all this in a public forum, because it might lead my editors to question my opinion on the subject. Or maybe it indicates that it's good to have a guy like me, whose tastes don't always cater to the status quo, adding some extra titles to the fray.

Here's the JazzTimes list. It doesn't surprise me that Sonny Rollins made #1. It shouldn't surprise you that I plan on buying that album today after work. The first album on this list that appeared on my list is #4. And I was pleasantly surprised to see that my personal #1 actually made the cut as #36 all around. (By the way, I realize I always unapologetically say, "Buy JazzTimes," to help keep print media going, and this is no exception. However the other good reason to do it is because the current issue has a great article on Vijay Iyer.)

I inadvertently blew off writing a Best Of list for Blurt in part because I didn't pay attention to when we were supposed to submit one. Besides, I feel like my rock list is full of even more holes than my jazz list. And when I saw their tabulations........woah, I really felt out of touch. Every year around this time, I tell myself, "This is why you shouldn't feel inhibited about asking for promos of stuff that you might not review anywhere: Because those labels should realize this one extra copy might actually get them into a Best Of list at the end of the year." Or I might just blog about them.

These end of the year lists are really for readers. People love checking them out. I know I do. I just don't like compiling them. They're also for the p.r. brass. I'm sure Sonny Rollins doesn't care, although I'm sure he'd express some appreciation.

Now before I make breakfast, I'm going to fire off an email to a friend of mine who usually sends an email out to me and some other friends of his, which triggers a discussion of releases from the year. That made contradict everything I concluded a moment ago, but I'm doing it more as a way to keep in touch with these guys.