CD Review: Barry Guy - The Blue Shroud & Guy/Crispell/Lytton - Deep Memory

Barry Guy

The Blue Shroud

Barry Guy/Marilyn Crispell/Paul Lytton

Deep Memory

(Intakt) www.intaktrec.ch

Bassist Barry Guy's two new albums for Intakt both take inspiration from works of art. In the case of the first one, it also incorporates the way a work of art can be presented and the resulting way in which the work is interpreted, with possible political motives coming out in the process. Vastly different in structure and instrumentation, both mine the visual medium to create strong, enduring works. 

When Colin Powell went on t.v. from the United Nations to present a case for the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003, he stood near a reproduction of Pablo Picasso's Guernica. The painting was inspired by the 1937 bombing of that city, and due to the nature of it, Picasso's work was draped in a blue shroud prior to Powell's talk. Presumably the images of war were too much for the public to see as a declaration of a new war was being made.

When writing The Blue Shroud, a 71-minute piece presented in 11 sections on disc, Guy was inspired by all of the acts - the bombing itself, Guernica and the act of shrouding it before Powell's speech. To bring it to life he assembled a 14-piece band, including a vocalist, strings, reeds, low and high brass and two drummers. Along with his original score, he incorporates pieces by classical composers H.I.F. Biber and J.S. Bach.

The work gets wild and there are moments of full blown chaos, but those are fleeting sections amidst bigger pieces. Ben Dwyer's guitar evokes flamenco as he strums furiously over a droning, bowed bass. Saxophones pop furiously, leading to vocals, quickly followed by piano clatter and low chattering strings. The overall feeling is minor, although hope feels like it could be on the horizon. This is especially true when the ensemble plays the Biber's pieces (which refer to Stations of the Cross) and Bach's "Agnus Dei."

Irish poet Kerry Hardie composed "Symbols of Guernica" which vocalist Savina Yannatou recites in sections throughout the piece. The use of voice and intense imagery never makes the work polemic or bombastic. Rather it elevates the feeling of the work. Since the liner notes, like all Intakt releases, appear in both German and English, it was hard to tell at first if Yannatou's recitation was in English or not, since it, wisely, was not pushed to far forward in the mix. This added to the overall impact of The Blue Shroud, making this element just one piece of a stronger whole.

The seven tracks on Deep Memory all derive titles from works by British painter Hughie O'Donoghue, from a 2007 Berlin exhibition titled Lost Poems. Though Guy didn't attempt to transform each canvas into music there can be parallels drawn between the vast, sometimes dark, swaths of color and Guy's performance with longtime collaborators Marilyn Crispell (piano) and Paul Lytton (percussion).

More than anything else, this collection reveals that wide array of moods this trio can create. After the opening "Spirit" - a tranquil rubato piece that unfolds slowly with gentle piano and a plucked bass solo - the group explodes, quite literally, in the opening seconds of "Fallen Angel," with furious bowing and crashes on the keys. The mood of the track also turns calm, but builds up to a climax a few more times, sustaining energy all along.

"Return of Ulysses" proves why Crispell is so highly regarded as a post-Cecil Taylor proponent of energy and technique. She unleashes blocks of sound over some furious bass scrapes that might have put the future of Guy's bow in jeopardy. "Dark Days" begins with her firing repeatedly on one note before taking off across the whole keyboard.

Yet for all of the wildness, Crispell draws on her deeply meditative side as well, which is felt in "Silenced Music" as well as the aforementioned opening track. Lytton colors the music perfectly, whether he's sitting back or adding some hard rolls to the stop-start theme of "Sleeper." And Guy, who composed everything, sounds great, especially in his "Spirit" solo which made my car's speakers vibrate wonderfully during a recent listen. Which proves that the best way to listen is by sitting right in front of two strong speakers.

CD Review: Don Friedman - Strength and Sanity

Don Friedman
Strength and Sanity
(Newvelle) www.newvelle-records.com

Last summer I found a used copy of Out Front by Booker Little. I knew the trumpeter largely for the three albums that collected a performances at the Five Spot in Eric Dolphy's quintet, as well as Max Roach's Percussion Bitter Sweet. On all of these recordings, Little displays a voice unlike any other in the hard bop era. He had the technique of Lee Morgan or Freddie Hubbard, but his sense of melodic possibilities was closer to the avant-garde, or really to Dolphy. Like his reed playing partner, he wasn't blowing free. He was bringing a new perspective to chordal music and making it work powerfully.

Little died in 1961 of complications from uremia, at the age of 23. The potential he had, coupled with the death at such a young age, puts him in a rarefied league of jazz musicians that should have been, right up there with fellow trumpeter Clifford Brown, bassist Scott LaFaro and pianist Richard Twardzik. Dolphy could also be lumped in with this group, although he managed to release a vast number of albums before passing away in 1964. Booker Little only recorded a couple.

For Out Front, Little essentially recruited his bandmates from the Roach group: Dolphy, Roach (who plays tympani and vibes as well as traps), Julian Priester (trombone) and Art Davis, alternating with Ron Carter (bass). A 25-year old pianist named Don Friedman completed the group. That name will pop up again in a moment.

Upon listening to the seven original pieces on Out Front, I wondered how I had lived this long without it. The originality and power of this music is comparable to hard-to-describe classics like Dolphy's Out to Lunch or Andrew Hill's Point of Departure. You can hear new ground being broken as the music proceeds. While Hill's album had "Dedication," a mournful but powerful dirge (which changed the mood of the session from happy to pensive), Out Front has two pieces like that: "Moods in Free Time" and "Man of Words," which appear back to back. Throughout the album, these musicians dig into Little's ideas, which involve not only melodic jumps but leaps in time signatures, never once making them sound heavy handed. 

Friedman, the pianist on Out Front, passed away in June of this year, at the age of 81. (For an overview of his life, check out Nate Chinen's column in the November issue of JazzTimes.) Last fall he went into the studio and recorded Strength and Sanity, eight Little compositions, five of them from the album on which he originally played. Rather than trying to recreate the sonorous blend of Little, Dolphy and Priester with other musicians, he does it all on the piano. Bassist Phil Palombi and drummer Shinnosuke Takahasi accompany him.

The impact of these performances makes you wonder if Friedman had been waiting his whole life to revisit the material. While a side-by-side comparison is an exercise in futility, it's nonetheless interesting to listen to the way the pianist brings them to life. "Moods In Free Time," the first of the dark pieces from the original album, kicks off the album with a slow bass ostinato, over which Friedman spills out bursts of notes, in a pensive but more celebratory manner. Takahashi cues the tempo change which goes from a bright 5/4 to 4/4, both swinging wildly.

"Man of Words," perhaps tellingly, closes the album. Palombi slowly bows the trombone melody from the original, making it sound like the bridge of Ornette Coleman's "Peace" in the process. Gentler than the 1961 version, but still moving.

In between those two, the trio succeeds and recreating Little's melodies. Rich chords drive "Looking Ahead"
with its walking bass line. "Quiet Please" straddles full piano voicings in the theme with single-note lines in Friedman's solo. Throughout the album, Palombi's bass has the bright, fat sound of a vintage instrument, which could be attributed to an acoustic being miked at the strings, rather than recorded via a pickup and amp. The sound and tenor of this session create a joyful feeling, like a rediscovery of lost art.

Which brings us to the label that released Strength and Sanity. Don't expect to find it on CD or at your friendly neighborhood download site. The French Newville imprint releases vinyl only, via subscriptions at that. They launched earlier this year, with a discography that includes a Frank Kimbrough session and Jack DeJohnette's first album of solo piano.

Undertaking a subscription to their series costs a pretty penny, but the product is nothing short of astounding, justifying the expense (especially when considering it includes overseas shipping). The day the record arrived on my porch took me back to the magic morning when my first Mosaic set fell into my sweaty 17-year-old hands (The Complete Blue Note Thelonious Monk, in case you were wondering.) Newvelle Records evoke the same feelings in music lovers. Housed in a heavy, smooth cover, with a gatefold, the record comes in a sleeve printed with a poem by Tracy K. Smith. And if you haven't noticed by the picture yet, the record itself is pressed on clear vinyl.

This is music produced by people who care about music and want to present it in a way that expresses their love for it. It presents a modern take on music from a golden era, and it recalls a time when discovering new musical adventures was as much of a tactile experience as it was an aural one.

CD Review: Hearts & Minds

Hearts & Minds
(Astral Spirits/Monofonus Press) www.monofonuspress.com

Behind some basic packaging - two-sided, non-gatefold cover card, the list of tracks on the back, personnel but no songwriting credits - lurks a strong debut from a trio of guys who have been around the block, but never on record in a setting like this. Jason Stein (bass clarinet), Paul Giallorenzo (synthesizer, E Planet) and Frank Rosaly (drums, electronics) have all been part of the Chicago experimental scene for quite awhile. Together, they can get noisy, swing and evoke film noir all within a short space of time. They can also pull the musical rug out from under and stop when right when they set a mood.

Giallorenzo's synthesizer often sounds like an electric piano, setting up bass lines and some dreamy chords to accompany Stein's curious melodies that inspires the bass clarinet to simulate feedback at one point ("The Western Situation"). Sometimes the band starts off blowing free skronk, only to gradually allow a groove to take shape ("Old Balance"). Just as they settle into "The Western Situation," things end abruptly like the tape ran out or someone accidentally hit the pause button.

Sometimes their racket has some structure to it, like "Stocky," which is built on a series of atonal blasts. Later in "An Unfortunate Lack of Role Models" Stein and Rosaly pop in and out with staccato bursts while Giallorenzo noodles in the background like Sun Ra. For contrast, "Models" follows it, sounding like a completely different band, playing spy soundtrack music, with the keyboard doubling as bass and Rhodes. If Matt Bauder's trio Hearing Things is the jazz group to play surf music, Hearts & Minds should be re-scoring episodes of Peter Gunn or Johnny Staccato.

Stein is a rarity in the bass clarinet is his sole instrument, rather than one he alternates with another reed. His devotion results in one of the most vibrant voices on the low reed, with voice-like explosions and rasps that can suddenly turn sweet a moment later. (If you haven't heard his Locksmith Isidore trio, they have been opening for comedian Amy Schumer, who just happens to be Stein's sister. Follow that band.) Rosaly continues to be one of the more ingenious players on the Chicago scene, always creating excitement as he crashes freely, sets tempi and adds his own electronic sounds to the scene.

The trio's self-titled disc is broken up into Side One and Side Two on the back cover listing, and in keeping with the vinyl feeling, all nine tracks could fill both sides of a platter.

CD Review: Blue Mitchell & Sonny Red - Baltimore 1966

Blue Mitchell & Sonny Red
Baltimore 1966
(Uptown) www.uptownrecords.net

The New Thing might have been happening all over New York City in 1966, but 180 miles away in Baltimore, the Left Bank Jazz Society kept things straight and hard swinging. History shows that John Coltrane would make his final public performance with the Society a little more than a year later, but by and large the Society hosted groups like the quintet fronted by trumpeter Blue Mitchell and alto saxophonist Sonny Red.

Mitchell played with a bright tone that took inspiration from Clifford Brown. Not quite as fiery as Freddie Hubbard or groundbreaking a soloist or composer as Lee Morgan, perhaps, he still blew with a good deal of power. After playing with Horace Silver's quintet on albums like Song for My Father, Mitchell released several albums for Blue Note during this time that fit in firmly with the label's post-Sidewinder sound.

Sonny Red, born Sylvester Kyner in Detroit, also recorded one album for Blue Note and a few for Jazzland, but never achieved even mid-level notoriety beyond the jazz connoisseurs. (My first exposure to him came with a questionable live CD by Bobby Timmons in the '90s.) It's a shame because, as this performance shows, Red was clearly coming out of the Charlie Parker mold but working beyond that template, putting on an exciting performance as he went.

With John Hicks (piano), Gene Taylor (bass, also of the same Silver group as Mitchell) and Joe Chambers (drums) in the rhythm section, this quintet was clearly having a good time on March 20 of that year. Only one of the five tracks lasts less than 10 minutes, with two surpassing fourteen. In Jimmy Heath's "All Members," Mitchell still sounds like he's warming up, staying largely in the mid-range of his horn. Hicks, who would go on to play with people like David Murray, sticks to chords in the left hand here and throughout the night, feeding Powell-esque ideas to his right hand. But Red's slashing lines pump this up and Chambers plays several machine gun drum rolls and makes his crash cymbal ring like a bell. Everyone must have inspired Mitchell because a song later, in his calypso "Fungii Mama," he plays some squirts and explores some choice riffs. His energy keeps increasing with each track too.

Red's alto has a beefy tone, with a thickness similar to Cannonball Adderley. Throughout the evening, he throws some outlandish quotes into his solos. In "All Members" he references Raymond Scott's "The Toy Trumpet," while he borrows from Horace Silver in "Fungii Mama." "I Can't Get Started," the altoist's solo piece, includes snatches of  "I Get Along Without You Very Well" (twice), "Pop Goes the Weasel" and "Irish Washerwoman" which seemed to be a staple of hard boppers. While excessive quotes can get bothersome, it should be noted that Red is adding these to a lengthy solo, which he shifts into double-time, as something of a bridge between his own ideas, so they don't quite come off sounding hokey.

The disc ends with another ballad, with Mitchell getting featured on Nat "King" Cole's "Portrait of Jennie" (spelled "Jenny" here). Chambers sits this one out, but Taylor adds bounce to it and keeps it flowing, inspiring some more bright Blue lines, including a half-valve squawk. While live sets usually conclude with a rousing piece designed to bring the audience to their feet, Baltimore 1966 does the complete opposite, ending gently. But we're left feeling that this band of seemingly diverse players (if you look at the directions in which they all went) created something greater than the sum of their parts, so a big ending is not necessary. Uptown has continually unearthed "lost" performances where on any random night. as tapes were rolling, a band might have been simply working a gig, or they might have really lifted the bandstand. This one belongs in the latter category.

I Have the Best Idea for What Obama and Biden Should Do in January

After watching a link to Hillary Clinton and that bum both cracking jokes yesterday at Al Smith Charity Dinner, I started riffing with a friend of mine, taking ancient one-liners from the likes of Henny Youngman and updating them for the current candidates. This was inspired in part by the accusation that Drumpf plagiarized a joke about Melania plagiarizing her speech. (I don't know if I truly believe that. It's an obvious joke that would be easy for a lot of people to make. But that's not why I'm here.)

I started wondering if Orange Head would also say, "Take my wife, please," and act like it's his own.

THEN, I started thinking about how our current leaders - Barack Obama and Joe Biden - are both naturally funny and sharp, and I imagined them as Dan Rowan and Dick Martin on Laugh-In. It occurred to me that would be a brilliant thing for them to do once their out of the White House. Barack could smoke again. He could be the straight man, trying to talk straight talk while Joe acts the part of his screwball sidekick. Laugh-In was always slightly political, so who better to bring it back to life than the man who could be politically astute and funny at the same time.

Bernie Sanders would be the perfect to come and say, "Sock it to me." But Jennie had an even better idea: he could be the guy riding the tricycle that keeps falling over. AND FOR ONCE, IT WOULD BE FUNNY!

The part of Ruth Buzzi's Gladys character could be played by Madeline Albright. Maybe Capitol Steps could be guest stars and they could be blown up. Or arrested for being so unfunny it's a crime. Mark Russell could be one each week too, being blown up. (Although I do kind of like him.)

This thing's practically writing itself. If the president sees this, please tell him to contact me. He knows where to find me.

Say goodnight, Joe.

Goodnight, Joe.

CD Review: Kris Davis - Duopoly

Kris Davis
Duopoly
(Pyroclastic) www.krisdavis.net

For her newest album, pianist Kris Davis hit upon the idea of performing a series of duets with specific types of instrumentalists: two different guitarists (Bill Frisell, Julian Lage), two pianists (Craig Taborn, Angelica Sanchez), two drummers (Billy Drummond, Marcus Gilmore) and two reeds (saxophonist Tim Berne, clarinetist Don Byron). With each pairing, they played one composition (five by Davis, one by Sanchez, one by Thelonious Monk, one by Duke Ellington) along with one brief improvisation.

In remarkable display of sequencing, the compositions play in order of the performers listed above (and pictured left to right on the cover, between pictures of Davis' inverted face). The improvisations run in reverse order of performers, making the final album something like an artistic palindrome. For those interested in watching the music come to life, Duopoly comes with an accompanying DVD that was filmed by two cameras in the studio, one pointing at each subject.

At first blush, the DVD almost acts like a distraction. Not simply because of technical things - such as when the camera stays on Lage's face during "Surf Curl," cropping out his musical activities - or the questions it can raise - like whether Drummond's facial expressions come from his passion for the music or uncertainty about where to play. After watching the performances, though, a return to the CD felt more rewarding. This is often gentle music and the visual almost took away attention from what is being created.

The composed pieces often feel as skeletal as the improvisations (which are each titled for Davis' guests). The interplay between Davis and Sanchez on "Angelica Sanchez" betrays more connection and interlocking of ideas than "Beneath the Leaves," though the latter sounds equally lyrical. "Fox Fire," with Taborn, begins slowly, with the alluring suspense that he created on his Avenging Angel disc: Things might begin glacially, but stick with it and you'll be rewarded as things open up. This pairing is one of the best on the whole session. It should come as no surprise that they have played a few shows together, marking the release of this set.

The two non-originals get stretched out beyond simple recognition. Davis takes "Eronel," a song associated with Thelonious Monk that was actually written largely by Sadik Hakim and Idrees Sulieman, and breaks down the theme into choppy pieces, while Drummond gradually builds from cymbal splashes to the full kit, ending in tandem with her like he knew where he was all along. Byron joins the pianist for "Prelude to a Kiss" which also takes the romantic theme and slows it to molasses-esque pour, giving a new type of romantic quality.

All of the improvisations average around four minutes, give or take a few seconds. That length of time doesn't offer much chance to create more than some fleeting sonic imagery that would not be out of place on an ECM album. They're compelling, though they don't always offer something to latch onto. Lage, on acoustic guitar, provides one of the few moments of free frenzy, when he skronks on his instrument. Coming as the penultimate track, it's a welcome jolt and leads into the final statement with Frisell, right where we came in.

The evershifting sound of Duopoly provide a challenge to maintain focus, but Davis' own performance offers consistency and direction in the moments that often feel loose, whether she's plinking prepared notes, slamming the low end or echoing her partner's high octave plinks. Although the music, and the studio footage, might come across a bit serious, the additional shots of the musicians included in the CD booklet indicate that everyone was having a good time. Davis continues to be one of the most fascinating new pianists in adventurous jazz.

CD Reviews: Four Albums on OutNow Recordings

At the beginning of the year, this blog featured a review of Yoni Kretzmer's 2 Bass Quartet. A few months later, another package arrived from Mr. K, the Brooklyn-based tenor player, and it contained these four discs. All appear on the same imprint as Kretzmer's last disc, OutNow, which keeps the packaging spare, but artistic (all but one are done in black and white, only one features liner notes from the leader). The music resides in the more adventurous realm of jazz, with plenty of exciting free improvisation, along with some thought-provoking compositions that bring out the best in these players. While all eyes are usually on New York City for the best in this type of music, Out Now seems to be saying Brooklyn is Now, to rework Ornette Coleman's declaration (and answer his co-hort Don Cherry's question about the borough). 

Yoni Kretmzer/Jason Ajemian/Kevin Shea

Until Your Throat Is Dry

It wouldn't be surprising if this title came as a response to the question, "How long should I play?" Here, Kretzmer's wild tenor joins forces with a bassist and drummer well-suited for zero-to-sixty free improvisation. Bassist Jason Ajemian played in several bands in Chicago and released two albums for Delmark that showcased his compositions (The Art of Dying) and some spacey jams inspired by Sun Ra (Folklords). He also led an ensemble that seemed to gather everyone on the Chicago jazz circuit to play a sort of collision of free jazz and freaky folk music (the bizarrely compelling Who Cares How Long You Sink). Drummer Kevin Shea is the wild man of Mostly Other People Do the Killing and numerous other bands, who provides the closest link between Han Bennink and Animal from The Muppet Show.

The disc features four tracks of unadulterated blowing. As wild as it gets, the trio also shows restraint so that it never gets one-dimensional. Ajemian begins the set with a solo that he plucks so hard, the strings could come unwound. (I've seen him play solo bass sets, in which he's held his own, so he's well suited for this setting.) Kretzmer can wail passionately at either end of his horn's register, but his solos carefully work their way to the bottom or top, exploring all the possibilities in between first, using a low honk or high shriek as punctuation for what he's already played. Shea, in some ways, operates in much the same way - never slowing down as he works over his kit and any type of additional hardware he has along with him. 

Yoni Kretzmer
Five

The track titles on Five imply a rudimentary reference, which would provide reference to another set of improvisations ("July 19," "Quintet I," "Quintet II," etc.). But while there's plenty of free blowing here, this quintet works off of a series of sketches that Kretzmer brought to the session. Steve Swell (trombone) and Thomas Heberer (cornet) join Kretzmer on the front line while Chad Taylor (drums) and Max Johnson (bass) split time between playing vamps and acting as the rubato foil to the horns.

Sometimes they recall a more brass-heavy version of the Art Ensemble of Chicago, creating infectious excitement as they wail. "Quintet I" has an almost conventional, albeit out of tempo, theme for the horns, while the rhythm section twists around it. "Feb 23" starts off with just Taylor and Johnson accompanying Kretzmer's gruff tenor. But the brass eventually comes in playing shout lines behind him. This type of structure shows up in other tracks too, giving the quintet just enough of a foundation to really lift their music. While the previous disc's wild abandon was fun, Five is even stronger while hearing the band move between inside and outside.

Ehran Elisha
Kindred Spirit: Quintets

In 2013 drummer Ehran Elisha recorded two sets of quintets each playing a different suite of his at IBeam in Brooklyn. Each set takes up a whole disc. "Kindred Soul" features his father Haim Elisha (piano), Sam Bardfeld (violin), Dave Phillips (bass) and Roy Campbell (trumpet), in what would be his final collaboration with Elisha. The instrumentation creates some intriguing sonic results. Despite playing a somewhat out-of-tune piano, the elder Elisha helps bring his son's free flowing ideas to life, alternating between meditative passages and Taylor-esque crashes. Campbell's clarion tone sounds authoritative, even as he plummets down into his instrument's guttural depths.

While disc one's quintet was familiar with Elisha's writing, disc two's "Spirit Suite" is played a group new to the composer/drummer's approach: Kretzmer, Michael Attias (alto and baritone saxes), Rick Parker (trombone) and Sean Conly (bass). Elisha finally gives himself a chance to solo, rolling and tumbling in multiple directions during the free "Two By Five," the second movement. Throughout the set, Kretzmer's tenor gets plenty of room and he frequently recalls Archie Shepp, thanks to the gruff tone he plays. To this style, though, he also pops on the reed, something Shepp never did. Attias' alto follows suit with him, but he spends more time on baritone, which he uses to blow long tones with Parker over the rhythm section's rolling boil in the opening "Spirit Serenade." The closing "Outrise" begins with a trombone solo over a drop-tuned bass, the whole thing getting low and ugly (in a good way) before coming to a calm resolve.

Frantz Loriot - Systematic Distortion Orchestra
The Assembly

If the previous three discs didn't suggest an idea of what to expect from labelmates known as the Systematic Distortion Orchestra, a glance at the instrumentation might offer one: The 11-piece group includes three drummers and two bassists, in addition to four brass, one reed and leader Frantz Loriot on viola.

That lineup seems like the type of ensemble to create dense, murky sound sculptures. That's exactly what they do. Some of the time. Two of the four compositions are credited to the whole group, but two are credited to Loriot alone. One of the latter is "Echo," which opens The Assembly like an eerie film soundtrack. The basses rumble in as the horns play a simple melody of sustained notes. Everything rises in waves, with the drums crashing behind them, and Loriot's viola (or maybe Nathaniel Morgan's alto saxophone) riding on top. A voice sings and yells briefly in the middle, and it's easy to see why. The fury this band unleashes is powerful. Nearly 10 minutes in length, it passes before you notice it.

Of the two group compositions, the title track works the same formula as "Echo," incorporating a heavy dose of extended technique and getting a little more dense in the process. "...Maybe...Still..." includes a spoken text by bassist Sean Ali, reciting a circular poem that complements that loose improvisation going behind him.

"Le Relais," Loriot's other "composition" goes heavy on percussion for its first three minutes, recalling more Art Ensemble shenanigans. Things begin slowly - none of the tracks on the album seem in a hurry to get started  - and the rest of the group enters in waves over the next 10 minutes. Loriot sounds, in some ways, like phantom bagpipes on the horizon, and the brass creates layers of kissing sounds and rumbles. The sound remains thick and hard to penetrate, but the momentum never stops.

Hopefully, the Systematic Distortion Orchestra can be found playing in some loft or DIY space in Brooklyn. In person, they could easily transfix a small but devoted group of listeners. The music on The Assembly  is best experienced in person, but this album maintains some of the electricity in the translation to disc.

All of these discs and more can be found at www.outnowrecordings.com.

Destroyer at Club Cafe - Dan Bejar, That Is

There is something bizarrely fascinating about Dan Bejar's music that he's recorded under the name Destroyer. Sometimes his high voice and dramatic delivery make him sound like some bard who has just stumbled into some indie rock band's practice space and decided to join them. The Your Blues album put his words to some of the most synthetic of synthesizers, which really made for a challenging listen. Poison Summer, the most recent Destroyer album, includes a serious dose of strings and horns, for music that he himself is still trying to process.

This past Monday, though, it was just Mr. Bejar and his acoustic guitar onstage at Club Cafe. We had talked a few weeks earlier for an article that appeared in Pittsburgh City Paper. He mentioned then that he had a batch of new songs that he was going to mix with some of the 150 songs from the Destroyer back catalog that he could pull off in a solo set. For a little over an hour, he chose about 10-percent of that catalog, easily going from one song to the next, talking between songs in a voice so calm and gentle that it was almost too hard to hear him through the sold-out throng of people. Not that the crowd was rowdy. On the contrary, everyone was listening in silence with rapt attention.

Sometime into the set, an epiphany popped up. It doesn't really matter what chord progressions he's playing, when he singing these evocative story-song lyrics overtop of them. The fact that songs like "A Light Travels Down the Catwalk" or "Watercolours Into the Ocean" have sweet backdrops - like the latter's "Femme Fatale"-esque riff - adds to the allure of the strangely poetic nature of his words. One new song climaxed with the line "I'm working on the new Oliver Twist," which doesn't sound like it should fit comfortably into a pop song. Sure enough, Bejar makes it fit.

"Your Blood," from the 2006 album Destroyer's Rubies, got a little manic or overly dramatic in the original, but in concert it veered in the opposite direction, getting more quiet and inviting close listening. "Don't Become the Thing You Hated" left all the Your Blues trappings in the dust, and served as the rousing end to the set, with words to live by. Of course, there was an encore, this one being "Virgin With a Memory." This one too ended with a beautifully rhetorical question: "Was it a movie of the making of Fitzcarraldo/ where someone learned to love again?"

On a parting note, I have to mention the crowd, which as previously mentioned, sold out Club Cafe's 140-person capacity. Besides my co-hort Erin, I didn't recognize anyone there until after the set, when I ran into two people I knew. Where do these people come from? Are they diehard Destroyer fans who drove in from out of town? Do they live here? Do they check out local bands in local clubs? They shouldn't miss out on these opportunities.

Birthday Highlights

Friday, October 7 was my birthday. Typical of most days, I had a full  list of things to do, leading up to a show at the end of the night. Playing on my birthday seemed like a good idea, so why not.

The day started the photo below, which I saw when I walked into work:

Not one, but two cakes. And since they came from the place where I used to work, damn good cakes. But before I had a chance to really get settled into the day, the power went out in the office. That was around 10:45. Duquesne Light, when we were finally able to get through to a live person, said it could be close to 1:00 before it came back on. The staff said that if it didn't come on at 1:00, we could go home. 

After getting a cake, which we cut into soon after the power outage (luckily there are a lot of tall windows and it was sunny at that point so we weren't in the dark), getting a free day off would have been too good to be true, and too much to expect. And it was, because it came back on at about 12:15.

The rest of the day was a typical Friday: get home, meet Donovan at the bus stop, take him to his piano lesson. Grab a Mineo's pizza for dinner. It wasn't the OFFICIAL birthday dinner but a good one. Besides I had to run out quickly to see Mary Halvorson at a City of Asylum performance.

Mary is in town all weekend. Friday was a solo set, last night she played with Tomas Fujiwara's the Hook Up. Tonight she's playing with Thumbscrew, the trio with Fujiwara and bassist Michael Formanek. As a side note, Esperanza Spaulding was also playing in town the same night, just a few miles away. Ben Folds was also in town. In the wildest addition to that don't-tell-me-nothing-happens-in-Pittsburgh moment, the band ESG (yes, THE ESG with the Scroggins sisters) was playing here at the VIA Festival. 

But I was at the Halvorson show because I was asked to present her with an award for Guitarist of the Year from the Jazz Journalists Association. The call came a few weeks ago and at first it threw me off: On the same night as a gig, and the same night I had intended to celebrate my birthday with my family, I was asked to do this too? What's a guy to do? Answer: Do it, because I'd be stupid not to.

So I was told that, as Mary was making her way to the stage, I should follow her up and make the announcement. Never having done this kind of thing before, I felt funny, wondering how much she actually knew about this, if she remembered me from previous visits, interviews, etc, as the guy who'd be doing it. 

Then when I got up there, I was nervous, worrying about talking too much, getting too effusive and not making any sense. So I just ad libbed  a little bit, recalling seeing her for the first time with Anthony Braxton here in 2008, hopefully got the message across, made sure the JJA got some good props and handed her the award. 

Her set consisted of the music she recorded on Meltframe, a group of reimagined songs by everyone from Ornette Coleman to French guitarist Noël Akchoté. (She actually segued these respective composers' pieces together, "Sadness" and "Cheshire Hotel" respectively.) Other composers that she did before I left included Annette Peacock and Oliver Nelson. (I wonder what the latter would have thought of her fuzzy version of "Cascades.")

I was only able to catch about 25 or 30 minutes before heading back across the Allegheny to Hambone's, via a stop for coffee. A handful of better-suited words about Mary came to me as soon as she started playing, so I was feeling moody and caffeine was the only cure. After waiting for the family in front of me to get three desserts, trying to find a place to park near Hambone's and walking in the rain, the drink felt even better. (The good news was we were sharing bass amps at the show, so I only had to haul my bass, tool kit full of cables and various sundries.)

Good friends Will Simmons and the Upholsterers opened the show, which to me also means Instant Party. Those guys know how to balance solid pop hooks with some zany elan. In my honor, they covered two Monkees songs in a medley, "Randy Scouse Git" and "Love Is Only Sleeping." The latter is a pretty bold move since it hops from 7/4 to 4/4. 

The Love Letters' last few shows found us playing slightly shorter sets to make sure that everyone on the bill got their space. (Well, Britsburgh was a little longer, but that's a different story.) We decided to aim for closer to 45 minutes tonight, though we probably went a bit over, thanks to some good shtick at the beginning of the set. Furthermore, I caused some delay in a quest to find some lost equipment, which was right under my nose the whole time. (Sorry, guys.)

We threw in a fair number of covers tonight, some part of our regular set, some newer. The big one was one of my favorite songs from childhood, the McCoys' "Hang on Sloopy." I think we did a pretty spirited version of it. There were some amp/guitar problems in the set, but we rebounded pretty well and I got to segue a few songs together.

Old Soles and Seedy Players went on after us. I hadn't seen them before but I knew keyboardist/vocalist Dan Styslinger from his guitar playing in delicious pastries. After hearing a few songs online, I thought they'd be cool. Normally they have a horn section, but on this night they were just a quartet. It was different from what I expected: these guys really have chops. Dan's keys unfortunately got lost in the mix a bit, but he was really going at it. Guitarist Frank had an octave effect pedal that he used during solos, which gave his instrument this weird, flute-like sound. The first time he did, I wasn't sure where the sound was coming from. I liked the way the rhythm section made the songs move because it kept the edge in it, so it didn't get too smooth. I want to check these guys out again because I'm still wrapping my head around them. And I want to hear horns!

CD Review: Slavic Soul Party! - Plays Duke Ellington's Far East Suite

Slavic Soul Party!
Plays Duke Ellington's Far East Suite
(ropeadope) www.ropeadope.com

Sometimes, making a comparison between a tribute/re-imagining album and its source material can cause some serious distraction, especially when the composers in question are Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn. (And especially when the reviewer isn't initially familiar with the original material.) The whole angle of the piece starts to be shaped before the words start hitting the page: What's more important, the way the new version compares to the original, or whether the new one stands on its own?

It's senseless to take the former approach, since anyone will fall like a house of cards when stacked up to Ellington's original. But a little bit of background is in order. Duke and his band participated in a "jazz diplomacy" mission in 1963 when they traveled through Middle East, South Asia and the Balkans, to now-treacherous places like Syrian, Lebanon, Iran and Iraq. Members of the band would later grouse that they played less for the everyday people of these countries and more for the high-ranking officials.

Ironically, they never actually made it to the Far East proper, as the tour was halted after the assassination of John F. Kennedy in November of that year. But the trip was enough to inspire the writing of Ellington and Strayhorn, who created a total of nine tracks for the 1966 album. It would be some of the last music Strayhorn would write before loosing a battle with esophageal cancer a year later.

Slavic Soul Party! originates in New York City, the product of a group of musicians affiliated with the experimental jazz scene who go back to the music of Balkan brass bands, injecting it with the adventure they've developed in their own circle of music. Their heritage, so to speak, brings Far East Suite full circle, back to the music that inspired it. Ellington's use of a full reed and brass section brought the music West. SSP!, on the other hand has only one reed player (Peter Hess, who doubles on saxophones and clarinet), five brass (two trumpets, two trombones, tuba), two drummers and an accordionist. The last instrument is particularly key in creating this Balkan feel, most notably in "Amad" and the closing "Ad Lib On Nippon," where Peter Stan gets some guttural noises out of his squeezebox.

"Isfahan" originally served as a feature for Johnny Hodges' regal alto sax. That role is taken by the trumpet (either John Carlson or Kenny Warren) which plays over a slinky beat  accustomed to a New Orleans marching band. That feeling pops up throughout many songs, especially when Ron Caswell's tuba plays some funky bass lines. He and his lower brass mates get pushed to the front of "Bluebird of Delhi" giving the song a more sinister feeling that contrasts with the light clarinet part (intact from Ellington) that represents the bird. Later on, the band adds some klezmer color to "Depk" though Caswell still keeps the Big Easy at arm's length.

This recording was made at Barbès in Brooklyn in front of an audience, which reacts enthusiastically to the performance. It's easy to see why: the energy never wavers, even when things get more reflection ("Agra"). In the end that means prior knowledge of Far East Suite is not required before checking out Slavic Soul Party!'s homage. Don't be surprised if it inspires curious listeners to search for the original, though, to prolong the pleasure.

CD Review: Jason Roebke Octet - Cinema Spiral

Jason Roebke Octet
Cinema Spiral
(No Business) nobusinessrecords.com/

Whereas Jason Roebke's last octet album, High/Red/Center (Delmark, 2014), began with some tense but swinging Sun Ra-esque harmonies, Cinema Spiral begins with an atonal, out-of-tempo call from the horn-heavy ensemble. It doesn't attempt to copy the opening wail of Ornette Coleman's Free Jazz, but "Looking Directly Into the Camera" contains a similar loose-cum-focused feel, an announcement that the group is about to begin. And like that other landmark session, this theme will recur, providing a break between sections that might otherwise be missed.

Cinema Spiral consists of seven tracks, but it's actually one continuous 52-minute piece with no proper pauses. Like High/Red/Center, bassist Roebke corralled his close associates from the Chicago music scene to bring it to life: Greg Ward (alto saxophone), Keefe Jackson (tenor & sopranino saxophones, contrabass clarinet), Jason Stein (bass clarinet), Josh Berman (cornet), Jeb Bishop (trombone), Jason Adasiewicz (vibes) and Mike Reed (drums). Any chance to hear that lineup together in one place surely means a good time will be had by listeners and participants.

But while the octet's previous session featured a combination of written parts and a grounded rhythm section working together with unwound solos, Cinema Spiral as a whole feels much looser. "Looking Directly" moves right from the opening line to a thoughtful, probing solo from the leader. Long tones eventually come in, but it feels more like exposition. "Focusing" follows with Stein's bass clarinet and Bishop's trombone beginning a bit of group improvisation. The second real ensemble passage comes toward the end, prior to a restatement of the opening call.

This loose framework continues for most of the album. A short theme at the end of "Getting High" acts more like a chance to regroup before everyone goes for broke in "People Laughing." That track begins with everyone wailing at their wildest. Structure, and intrigue, comes less from written sections than pure dynamics, though. After three minutes of squonk, everyone drops out except Roebke, Adasiewicz and Reed, who grind to almost dead silence a couple minutes later. In "Waiting" Roebke adds a bit more structure by riffing behind the 'bone, cornet and contrabass clarinet interjections. The foundation feels event more buoyant in "L’acmé" which ends with bright group theme.

In some ways Cinema Spiral could have benefited from a little more structure, since several moments seem like the octet is trying to move towards a resolve that never really comes. It leads instead to more wild blowing. At the same time, these players knows how to take it out and take people with them, maintaining a good deal of energy at all times. Bass clarinetist Stein in particular seems to get a good deal of lead time. The album is not a complete squonk fest either, as Berman and Roebke prove when they get room to shine on their own. 

No Business Records reside in Lithuania, so the album might not be quite as easy to find as High/Red/Center. Contact them directly to check it out. 

Rebecca Pronsky is Coming To Town Tomorrow

Once in a blue moon, I'll post a preview to an upcoming show in Pittsburgh. This is one of those occasions. Friday, September 30, Rebecca Pronsky comes to the Funhouse at Mr. Smalls. The evening also serves a release show for local singer Ben Shannon's Farewell Mountain CD. He performs too, along with Emily Rodgers and Morgan Erina.  Doors open at 8 p.m. Show at 9 p.m. Get tickets at www.ticketfly.com/event/1257801. It's only $10!

It's been a while since we heard from Rebecca Pronsky, who hasn't released an album since 2013 (Only Daughter). That album earned her a spot of The Telegraph's Top 10 Country albums of 2013 list, which says quite a bit about Pronsky's songs. Though she's not a tried-and-true country songstress, her music - which includes releases that date back to late '00s -  has the best elements of country music: a yearning quality (due in no small part to guitarist Rich Bennett's sweet leads), music that tugs at your ear and says, "Listen" and - most significantly - compelling storylines. And not the traditional country plot lines either.

I'd bet good money that Pronsky could put fresh spins on tales of drinking, infidelity and the regret that comes with the first two, but her lyrics align her more with the best in singer-songwriters. On the new Known Objects she begins by getting a tad existential with "Bag of Bones," which looks at artistic self-doubt. The initials of "A.E." belong to Amelia Earhart, in a song that meditates on the newly discovered evidence that "Lady Lindy" did not crash her plane but landed on an island in the Pacific Ocean, where she was marooned.

The latter subject alone invites all sorts of speculation and could fuel a whole album of songs. (Maybe this country music moniker fits better than it initially seemed.) But Pronsky reduces it to crucial elements, which make a compelling tune, which leaves the listener wondering exactly what happened. Elsewhere "Snowing Sideways" depicts a romantic interlude by mentioning some of the scenery that can provide the most vivid images in your head while listening.

Delivering all those stories, Pronsky has a strong, brassy voice that occasionally lapses into a bit of natural vibrato. By natural I mean that she doesn't overdo it, or use it to overemphasize a turn of phrase. It simply sounds like a natural extension of the way she sustains a note. (And like some singer-songwriters, it doesn't happen in an upper register, rattling the fillings.)

Known Objects features a revolving group of guests, from jazz guitarist Ben Monder to the four-part harmonies on "Gondwanaland" and "Blue Skies" from Lucy Wainwright Roche, Greta Gertler, Emily Hurst (Las Rubias Del Norte) and Deirdre Struck (Lascivious Biddies), who add a rich, warm quality to those songs. Even without the guests, Pronsky's songs all sound distinct from one another, sequenced in a way that the moods, tempos and sonics vary with each track, still creating a full program.

Considering her Brooklyn home and her skill at winning the ears of current country music fans, she ought to rechristen herself the Queen of Brooktucky. Or Brooklynville. Or Nashlyn. (I'm from an area that's occasionally called Pennsyltucky so what do I know?)

All goofy stuff aside, Pronsky should be even more widely known than she currently is.

World Saxophone Quartet & Sun Ra Arkestra - Two Nights, Two Concerts

Playing right now: Chris Connor, Chris. Used copy of the Bethlehem LP, in large part because it has her version of "Lush Life," which I love. As in, it might be my favorite version of the song. 

The past weekend was crazy. First of all, I said I'd star in an installment of HeroinesBurgh - a comicbook type series about super heroines fighting crime in Pittsburgh (the brainchild of illustrious independent-minded guy who's been booking shows in town for decades; locals will know who I mean).

On top of two days of that, the World Saxophone Quartet played at City of Asylum on Saturday and the Sun Ra Arkestra played Sunday night at the New Hazlett Theater. 

You read correctly - both of these top shelf acts were in town two nights in a row. In Pittsburgh! We don't get that kind of attention on a regular basis. I had to go to both, of course.

I talked to Oliver Lake in advance of the WSQ's appearance for City Paper. It has been a few years since they've all played together, and about eight or nine years since they came to Pittsburgh. Last time, James Carter was filling in for tenor saxophonist David Murray. Carter is great, but there's something about David Murray, with his brawny sound and sense of invention, that pushes this group over the top. Seeing him with his quartet at the Balcony back in the late '80s, I remember thinking that his approach to improvisation was like a model of DNA - a ladder-like design that twisted around and kept moving upward. The higher you get on the model, the further away you may be from, in this case, the melody of the song. But you can still feel the connection, even if someone like Murray is pushing beyond the register of his instrument, adding shrieks to his melody. 

The four members of the group - Lake, Murray, alto/soprano saxophonist Bruce Williams and baritone saxophonist Hamiet Bluiett - walked through the audience blowing their horns on the way to the stage. (Bluiett actually played clarinet on the walk in, presumably because his health problems make it hard to strut and blow a baritone at the same time). 

They opened with "Hattie Wall." their theme song, which is driven by the baritone's staccato low end groove. Bluiett sounded like he was either missing a few notes as he vamped, or he was taking more breaths to pace himself. But the electricity was in the air. That was followed by "Giant Steps" which relaxed the tempo a bit, compared to the original version. Lake, Murray and Williams (on soprano) each took unaccompanied solos during the tune.

At the start of the second set, the Quartet accompanied two poets, as is the tradition with City of Asylum, which has housed and presented exiles poets from around the world. Adriana E. Ramirez read a couple poets while the group accompanied her. The first was inspired by the lives of Whitney Houston and Amy Winehouse, playing a little more on their mythos than their talents. The second talked about taking the citizenship test to become an American, contrasting the people in the test office with a friend conversing with the narrator about treatment in the U.S. Osama Alomar's work read less like poetry than astute metaphorical observations about human nature. The Quartet played brief grooves between pieces, including their low-bottom blues riff "I Heard That," which could have and should have gone on longer.

The second set found the group doing some free improvisation as well as some directed compositions. The former was loose but worked well. As with the music from the whole evening, there were times where the group seemed to be pulling in four different directions, but things never sounded busy. 

Sunday night, the New Hazlett Theater was packed with people to see the Sun Ra Arkestra. They haven't been to town since 2002. (Prior to that show, I interviewed band leader Marshall Allen, in what would be my first big story for JazzTimes. Coincidentally, he's on the cover of the current issue of JT.) At that time, Allen was 78 years old. I'll do the math for you and tell you the man is 92 years old and still going strong. The group's entrance, with members shuffling around the stage, blowing horns at the audience, as drums rolled freely, hailing the most joyful type of free jazz - making it sound like a spaceship had landed, with the occupants dressed wildly - all were clearly informed that this would be an evening to remember.

Allen began the evening blowing into his EWI (Electric Wind Instrument), but instead of emitting some slick, fusion-y sounds, it functioned more like a theremin, adding to the outer space quality of the music. Johnny Hodges might have been the first big influence on Allen's playing, but he spent most of the evening blowing wild shrieks on his alto, his right hand moving over the keys with the type of gestures normally seen by a bassist in a funk band. Lest anyone wonder who was driving the Spaceship Ra, Allen was standing for the whole set, cuing the various members of the band, calling songs and at once point, even telling baritone saxophonist Danny Ray Thompson to talk to the audience.

The set, which lasted about an hour and 45 minutes, went all over the place. They tackled standards "Sometimes I'm Happy," "Stars Fell on Alabama" and "When You Wish Upon A Star" (which got wild at times in a way almost similar to Spike Jones). But they also played several groove-heavy originals like "Interplanetary Music," (which had more of a melodic backbone than the version I heard on an album that Evidence reissued in the '90s), "Fate In a Pleasant Mood" and the set ender "Space Is the Place/We Travel the Spaceways."

Several times during the set, the musicians got out of their chairs, dancing around the stage and trying to get into the audience, which proved tricky on some of the Hazlett's steps, which dead-end in several places and don't allow one section to spill into another. The Arkestra sounded a little more raucous than last time, when they all entered singing "This Is Planet Earth" together. But it was clear from the beginning that their three rehearsals-per-week regimen is well worth it. For more words from Allen about the band, click here. And please note, I wrote it. (As I prepared this entry, the wrong person was listed.)

One comment I read online said the band could have tuned a little better, because the intonation was far off. Up in the balcony where I was sitting, it sounded fine too me. I wish Allen would've revisited a little of the Hodges style and taken a break from the free squall for contrast. But the guy is 92 years old so I'm not going to fault him for sticking to one thing. I'm just he's still doing it.

CD Review: Rhys Chatham - Pythagorean Dream

Rhys Chatham
Pythagorean Dream
(Foom) www.foommusic.com

Technology sometimes makes the production of some forms of music either antiquated or seemingly too much effort for so little gain. The Simeon, the instrument named for the one-named man who played it in the '60s band Silver Apples, featured a bank of oscillators, which according to reports at the time, required the musician to utilize hands, arms and elbows to play it. Damn if it didn't sound cool, but today you can do all that with the flip of a couple buttons on a keyboard.

Digital delays and loops render Frippertronics unnecessary. That was the technique Robert Fripp used where he played a guitar line that was recorded on a loop of tape that fed into another machine set to play back. For years, I thought this was the brainchild of a former bandmate's husband and I've dreamt of doing this. Chances are I still will, as soon as I get my one reel-to-reel player repaired.

While it's easier to trigger an effects pedal or a keyboard to make this sound, the effort diminishes the randomness of the effort. By using a tape recorder or making tape loops at home on a reel-to-reel, there's a certain suspense one can feel in anticipation of the playback. Will it sound the way I hope it will? Will it be better?

Rhys Chatham has been tinkering with the production of musical sounds since the 1970s, after studying with La Monte Young. He built on the early experiments of Terry Riley, who actually predated Fripp's techniques by creating multi-second delay effects by using two Revox Tape Machines. Chatham is known for compositions that have featured 100 and sometimes 200 guitars. That type of sound could probably resonate so perfectly it could cause a seismic shift that could knock our planet into a more positive balance. (If you think about the effects of magnetic fields [which can be felt with guitar pickups] and vibrations, it doesn't seem like such a remote idea. But that's another story.)

For Pythagorean Dream, Chatham wanted to revisit the Riley way of looping, though it appears he did it with effects pedals this time. In this case, it's not the means of recording that takes on the greater significance but the end. His guitar is tuned to his own Pythagorean setting, which creates a certain set of overtones that sustain and ring. In "Part One," sounds bounce from channel to channel creating arrhythmical layers on top of one another. To untrained ears it might sound like variations on one note, or like a new guitarist continually banging away on an drop tuned C# chord. But the way he plays makes all the difference. Chatham uses both finger picking and flat picking techniques and an e-bow, which makes the music move in dynamic waves. The dynamics and the resonating notes of the tuning create a rich sea of sound.

For "Part Two," he returns to the instrument he played in the conservatory: flute. It begins with a rolling drone from the guitar, but it soon morphs into a wave of bass, alto and C flutes, creating a similarly hypnotic sea of sound. What keeps the music interesting is the way the different segments are introduced, how they impact that sound and where they go in the mix. It's definitely stereo music, best experienced on speakers with some distance from one another.

Compared to the gentle flow and relatively soothing qualities of the two "Pythagorean Dream" parts, the bonus "Whitechapel Brass Variations" sounds busy. Chatham plays trumpet here, blasting away with extended technique, creating waves of low and upper register smears. Using the same recording process as the previous tracks, he goes on for a few minutes of free blowing, before the flatulent notes start to take the shape of a march rhythm. The high notes recall Mongezi Feza's layers of trumpet with on Robert Wyatt's "Little Red Riding Hood Hit the Road" on Rock Bottom. Sounds bend, wail and eventually decay. At 14 minutes, it's a bit much and nowhere near as tranquil. But it makes for an interesting journey.

The early tape experimentations of Terry Riley - or Rhys Chatham, for that matter - might have some sort of appeal to fans of pre-digital music, where the process holds as much intrigue as the music itself. But even if Chatham did only take inspiration from Riley and channeled it into an effects pedal, he still managed to create something compelling with it. While it can recall the space rock heard on many albums on the kranky label imprint during the '90s, Chatham methods still reveal an individual voice. If you're waiting for a "lead" to come in top of all those layers, you're not listening the right way.

CD Review: Marc Ribot & the Young Philadelphians - Live In Tokyo

Marc Ribot & The Young Philadelphias
Live In Tokyo
(enja/yellowbird) www.jazzrecords.com/enja

Something's missing from "Love Rollercoaster" without the "say what."

A wry sense of humor can be detected in Marc Ribot's music. Way back in the '90s on his Rootless Cosmopolitans album he interpreted Jimi Hendrix's "And the Wind Cries Mary" by deadpanning the words over some atonal funk-skronk that bore no resemblance to the original. In each verse of "Have A Nice Day" he growled that he was ready to rough somebody up for some minor reason, as the band played a thrash riff. Each verse ended with words to the effect of "Hey, wait a minute. I don't have a sister. Sorry about your jacket. Have a nice day."

Conversely, the guitarist has paid tribute to Albert Ayler and Cuban guitarist Alberto Rodriguez in ways that show respect without sacrificing any of his own personality. His 2010 solo album Silent Movies offers one of many examples that Ribot can also execute extremely delicate and lyrical music in addition to the abrasive stuff. In conclusion, he should be consider one of the most diverse, pliable and innovative guitarists the world has to offer.

With that in mind, the idea of hearing him interpret Philadelphia soul music, the kind that was a gateway drug to disco in the '70s, should generate excitement. Whereas "And the Wind Cries Mary" was a revered classic that Ribot playfully brought down a few iconic notches, a Ribot version of "Fly Robin Fly" would presumably take a cheesy disco song and raise it a few notches, making us skeptics realize that, yeah, maybe it wasn't quite as lame as we once thought. Presumably Ribot isn't in the business of straight mockery. He has better things to do than just make fun of people.

The concept of the Young Philadelphians gets better by glancing at the personnel. Joining Ribot as his six-string foil is none other than Mary Halvorson, who brings an equally unique approach to her instrument and can also play with the same amount of seriousness and frenzy (see her band People with drummer Kevin Shea).

But Ribot also uses the band to pay tribute to Ornette Coleman's electric Prime Time, getting the original rhythm section for the Young Philadelphians, bassist Jamaaladeen Tacuma and drummer G. Calvin Weston. (Both were young Philadelphians when Ornette first brought them into his fold.) With a rhythm section that get be funky and heavy, coupled with those guitarists, this blend of Philly soul, harmolodics and a creative perspective on homage should be a slam dunk.

By large it is. The quartet brings all intensity one might expect from a combination of players like this. Ribot rearranges MFSB's effervescent "TSOP (True Sounds of Philadelphia)" so it begins slow and out-of-tempo, creating dramatic suspense before it slams into the minor riff and everyone kicks in. The same goes for Van McCoy's "The Hustle," a punchline of a song that gets a little more respect this time out. Ribot also remembered that string sections gave Philly soul its distinct identity too. A three-piece string section covers that end of the music.

All that's left are the vocals,  which shouldn't be a challenge, considering how spare they are. But that's where things come up short. The Young Philadelphians reduce them to something more like gang vocals, yelled together. Sure, "Fly Robin Fly" only has six words, but they were sung originally, not barked. The Trammps' "Love Epidemic" is a great opener, but the way the group sings it makes them sound like they're rolling their eyes at the tepid lyrics.

And then there's "Love Rollercoaster." Maybe Ribot omitted the "say what" because he thought he'd sound corny doing it. Or maybe the song doesn't need it. But the band also twists the main motif of the song. It's built on a two-measure riff, the first descending and the second ascending. The main lyrics match up with the respective part of the riff. But the band stretches the words out over two repetitions of the riff. It even seems to throw off Halvorson, who is about to sing "...of love" immediately after the first "Rollercoaster."

Am I nitpicking? Probably. But "Love Rollercoaster" elicited the same reaction I have when someone does a Beatles song and flips verses around, or the time I heard a guy actually sing "Maxwell SILVER'S Hammer." The reaction is, you should know this. This is embedded in the fabric of classic music. The lack of impressive vocals wedge Live in Tokyo just a bit closer to ironic territory. No one listens to Marc Ribot albums for vocals, but he could have enlisted someone with some pipes to help out. (Or left it all to Halvorson.)

That being said, Live in Tokyo still comes on with more pluses than minuses. There are moments where Weston lets fly with some snare cracks that reinforce the power of the guitars. Tacuma can hold down the groove and bounce around on top of it, sometimes simultaneously. The group recorded this album early in their lifespan too. Ribot says the group has already advanced further. Check this out and look forward to what their future holds.

CD Review: Tyshawn Sorey - The Inner Spectrum of Variables

Tyshawn Sorey
The Inner Spectrum of Variables
(Pi) www.pirecordings.com

Improvising musicians have been attempting for decades to incorporate styles far removed the standard jazz format of horns and rhythm section/solo-over-changes style. Some most famously did away with chord changes. Third stream attempted to bring a classical sensibility to the music, where more of it was composed. Fusion, at its best (before that was a viable category) combined the visceral quality of rock with the ability to tear up chord changes.  World music tries to bring together musics from other countries. Sometimes these experiments worked, sometimes it watered down the original idea into something that left out the vital parts of the music in question.

In the past couple of years - maybe up to the past four, really - musicians affiliated with jazz have been earning recognition for playing music that would rankle the purists and some of the more adventurous types, due to its use of things like samples, more modern rock aesthetics or an even more avant approach to the avant-garde. What makes recent albums by people like Marcus Strickland and Esperanza Spaulding succeed is the fact that they're not approaching it from a path of either naive experimentation or dilettantism. They're playing from their own experience. And to ask them simply follow the path of John Coltrane or Jaco Pastorius would be as ridiculous as expecting Miles Davis to just play like Cootie Williams. The runaway success of Kamasi Washington last year indicated that people are in the mood for something that draws on different styles with adventure.

Drummer/composer Tyshawn Sorey's work also reveals a mind that has incorporated a wealth of music and uses that experience to come up with works that explode with creativity and adventure. After having established himself as a drummer that can swing in the most remote, unswinging time signatures, he has simultaneously (!) earned a masters in composition from Wesleyan University and is currently working on a Doctorate in Music for Composition from Columbia University. Last year, Wesleyan appointed him to a tenure track position where he replaces retiring professor Anthony Braxton. The seat is a telling one, because it answers the question of who could succeed Braxton, bringing with it all the necessary perspectives on music and its avenues. Sorey is clearly the one for the job.

For clues to the way Sorey can shape the minds of students in a university setting, drop into any section of The Inner Spectrum of Variable, a two-disc, two-hour composition in six movements recorded by a double trio: Sorey's trio with Cory Smythe (piano) and Christopher Tordini (bass) with violinist Chern Hwei Fung, violist Kyle Armbrust and cellist Rubin Kodheli. When some experimental composers utilize a string section, it yields a heavy amount of drones from the low strings and atonal, whining scrapes on the top end. It's an extreme example of melody, but one that doesn't sound fully mature. Not the case here.

The strings on this piece can get harsh at times, but Sorey doesn't let them simply grate on the ears. In fact, one compelling quality of Inner Spectrum is how it keeps reshaping itself, never sticking long enough in one place to burn an idea out. The strings turn contemplative, melancholy and even dance on top of a tense two-fisted piano riff, grounded by the rhythm section. Sorey's previous album Alloy leaned largely on ideas of suspense and the slow evolution of a composition. With this album, he cites the influence of Braxton and improviser/composer Lawrence "Butch" Morris - the latter known for his "conduction" technique that involved both improvisation and conducting. But Harold Budd, Ethiopian jazz, the AACM and Brahms also inspired this writing.

Having said all of that, it would be too laborious to dissect the entire composition. In some ways, my ears are still settling into the music, picking up more nuances with each listen. There are many and they all have a tantalizing quality. Suffice to say that even when a section lasts just a few minutes within the space of a 20- to 30-minute movement, it sounds like a part of a greater whole, not simply a quick sketch that's stitched into a bigger piece. "Reverie," which opens the second disc, begins with an extended solo by the composer on a variety of cymbals and other percussion, create rich sustained drones and acts as something of a pause between movements. Sorey probably could've made a longer piece all by himself, but this reverie also ushers in the strings, making something with more depth.

In the opening paragraph I intentionally avoided using the term "jazz musicians." Sorey can be called a jazz musician of course. He shows up on a remarkable number of modern jazz discs as a sideman. (Talk about living the good life - composing, working at a university, playing with a wealth of great musicians! Lucky so-and-so.) But The Inner Spectrum of Variables isn't really a jazz album. It's a style of music that hasn't received a proper name yet. So don't bother with such things right now. Let students of Sorey's students worry about that in a generation or two. In the meantime, get in on the ground floor.

CD Review: Catherine Sikora & Sylvie Courvoisier/ Mark Feldman/ Ikue Mori/ Evan Parker

Catherine Sikora
Jersey
(Relative Pitch) www.relativepitchrecords.com

Another double review, connected by a common thread, which I'll get to at the bottom of this review....

Tenor saxophonist Catherine Sikora was born in West Cork, Ireland, but now makes her home in New York City, where she's played with people like Eric Mingus and Ross Hammond. On this disc, she headed into the studio alone, armed with just her tenor.

Jersey is one of those solo albums that makes the listener wonder what the performer hears while she performs. Are these sketches? Are they solo compositions or does Sikora hear a rhythm section playing beneath her, in her mind? These may be rhetorical questions but they indicate that the music sounds inviting, engaging the listener who can then get inside the music.

"Ripped" begins the session with some long high tones, but Sikora isn't a minimalist, content to let slight vibrations hang in the air. Although she seems interested in exploring the sonic contours of the tenor - using the sound that comes when switching between keys, teasing out overtones without fully lapsing into them - she ultimately sounds more interested in creating spontaneous compositions that simply blowing visceral sound. That focus results in plenty of variety through Jersey's 13 tracks, whether it's "Barn Door Open" which, to these ears, makes a nod to Coltrane or Rollins, or "Speedbag Swivel," where her fingering technique almost sounds like a backwards recording. The space between tracks doesn't last long, making everything segue together like an extended piece. But a delineation can be felt between them, which speaks legions about her approach. It also provides a good lead-in to our second offering....

Sylvie Courvoisier/ Mark Feldman/ Ikue Mori/ Evan Parker
Miller's Tale
(Intakt) www.intaktrec.ch

Some free improvisers can hit the stage (or hit "record"), and operate at the same dynamic level with each piece,  the break between acting as little more than a chance to take a breath. The skilled free improvisers understand how to really sustain a performance, employing an array of dynamics, moods and even break-out groups within the whole ensemble.

These ideas were running through my head while listening to Miller's Tale, a September 2015 session that coincided with a performance the Roulette in Brooklyn. This came a year after saxophonist Evan Parker's weeklong residency at the Stone in New York, where he invited violinist Mark Feldman, pianist Sylvie Courvoisier and electronics whiz Ikue Mori to perform with him.

The album title and separate tracks are borrowed from Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman which takes place in Yonkers, where Miller's Tale was recorded. Rather than revel in the bleakness of the classic play, though, this music bursts with optimism, albeit the type that comes with wild, free improvising. Everyone moves so quickly and confidently in the music, it often becomes hard to tell who's playing what. The percussive thump in "Death of a Salesman" must be Courvoisier since there's no percussionist and she's not playing the keys at the moment. The sound of electrified faucet drips could be Feldman plinking away, but it's likely Mori, whose electric textures add great dimension to the set. The music rises and falls and begins with different ideas in each track. Courvoisier takes some time to stretch out during "The American Dream," expanding on droning low note that leads to a vast, Taylor-esque dance across the keyboard.

After five tracks of quartet interaction, Parker (who plays both soprano and tenor saxophones) plays duets with each of them, followed by a brief dialogue between Mori and Courvoisier. Whether the tracks flow past the 10-minute mark or keep it short, the musicians always seem to know how to apply variations to it, balancing the exciting frenzy of sounds with a wide dynamic range.

The liner notes to Sikora's Jersey (uncredited) talk about playing the album for Evan Parker while driving him to a show in Connecticut. The veteran saxophonist had nothing but compliments for the relative newcomer, saying her playing is free of cliches, adding that she "is both two seconds ahead and two seconds behind, which is the way you music play if you're going somewhere." That interpretation can be taken both literally and metaphorically, really.

But the biggest surprise - shock, even - comes in the last paragraph. After listening Jersey, the crew of the car then put on Steely Dan, "one of our guilty pleasures."

That's right - Evan Parker, legendary, sometimes-hard-to-get-into-but-always-pushing-it saxophonist Evan Parker likes the slick stylings of Steely freaking Dan. And I thought Anthony Braxton's fondness for Johnny Mathis was weird.