CD Review: Lina Allemano's Ohrenschmaus - Flip Side

Lina Allemano's Ohrenschmaus

Flip Side

(Lumo Records) Bandcamp link

Andrea Parkins joins the trio of Lina Allemano (trumpet), Dan Peter Sundland (electric bass) and Michael Griener (drums) on three of the seven tracks of Flip Side. Her accordion, electronics and "objects" add to the quick free romps, which all riff on the album title and explore different textures in their movements. "Sidetrack" is the longest, at nine minutes, beginning softly with scrapes and drones that could be emanating from any of the players. Initially, no one rises to the forefront; making the track serve as a prologue to what will follow. Things starts to coalesce in the final minutes. Allemano moans a note that sounds straight out of  Miles Davis' '70s wah wah (though she uses no pedals). Then the track mysteriously fades. 

"Sideswipe," three tracks later, picks up where the previous quartet session left off. This time, Parkins' accordion is more prominent, doing a wild dance with the trumpet. By the time the group gets to "Sidespin," Parkins is most prominent, using her accordion like an organ. This final blast barely lasts four minutes, but none of that time is wasted.

The remaining trio tracks find Ohrenschmaus ("ear candy") also vary widely. Sundland's slapped bass in "Signal" sounds like a funk groove that has won't hold together, thanks to Griener's clackety percussion. Allemano seizes the setting for some dirty growls. "Heartstrings" slowly takes shape with some moody mute blowing but "Stricken" is the album's centerpiece. Here, Sundland and Griener play slow and minimally, like a funeral march, while Allemano plays a melancholy line first with a Harmon mute than open. The mood is so spare, it could fall apart instantly, but it moves on with Sundland bowing and plucking. The results sound both dramatic and full.

"The Line," the final trio track before "Sidespin" alternates melodies played by trumpet and bass, with a series of outbursts full of press rolls, bass thumps and eventually some high whoops from the trumpet.

Allemano and her comrades have many moods, but all of them have a fun sense of adventure at the core. 

CD Review: Jason Stein - Anchors

Jason Stein

Anchors

(TAO Forms) www.aumfidelity.com/collections/tao-forms

The history of jazz music is filled with numerous stories of musicians dealing with various ailments. Many, of course, were a bit self-induced but a lifestyle of playing clubs and traveling extensively can take a physical toll on anyone. So too can mastering an instrument. Trumpeter Steph Richards suffered from potential focal dystonia, a neurological condition that causes muscles to freeze, making it impossible to play. She eventually overcame the condition by altering her technique on her instrument.

Though the liner notes to Anchors don't specifically his condition, bass clarinetist Jason Stein suffered from a similar physical ailment that impacted his playing. Having studied with percussionist Milford Graves, who saw a deep connection between music and good health, Stein worked to heal himself. Cold-water plunges and breathwork were part of the process, along with myofascial trigger point therapy, which helped him locate the source of an injury. 

The music on Anchors is inspired by Stein's healing journey, with titles like "Cold Water," "Holding Breath" and "Crystalline" coming from different aspects of it. Although the bass clarinetist has recorded a few albums in recent years in a trio with bassist Damon Smith and drummer Adam Shead (adding pianist Marilyn Crispell for this year's spi-ralling horn), this is his first session as a leader in six years. This corner of his output has ranged from blends of steady rhythm sections and adventurous flights on his horn to solo recitals that probe the more guttural extremes of the instrument (In Exchange for a Process, Leo). Anchors brings the varied approaches together.

The album features bassist Joshua Abrams, of Natural Information Society, and drummer Gerald Cleaver, whose list of collaborators includes Nels Cline, Matthew Shipp and fellow drummer Devin Gray. Boon, a one-named multidisciplinary artist and songwriter from Chicago, produced the album, penned the liner notes and plays acoustic guitar on the opening and closing title tracks. 

"Anchors I" and "Anchors II" are gentle pieces with the bass clarinet echoing the guitar's sparse, single-note lines in the first and playing in unison in the latter. "Holding Breath" gives the trio the chance to move at their own pace, building from free understated movement into a steady groove where the rhythm section keeps the momentum going while Stein stretches out. For the first three and half minutes of "An Origin," Stein intones a single low note as bass and drums flex beneath him. When this shapes into more of a structure, he solos in a manner that feels Monk-like, taking simple phrases that he shapes and reshapes repeatedly. 

The album also incorporates wild blowing in with more subdued moments. "Cold Water" evokes feelings of a plunge into that object, leading to a thoughtful conclusion that grasps the healing power that can be found in it. "Boon" by contrasts, comes off like a free ballad, while "Crystalline" is driven by Abrams' arco work and Cleaver's cymbal rolls, tempting Stein to dabble just a bit in his horn's upper register.

Like any good concept album, the ideas behind the music bring greater understanding to the work while the performance simultaneously stands on its own, even without the details of the notes on hand. It might necessitate a close listen to appreciate the trio's (or duo's) work but that's always a crucial element with this music. 

For Tito, Sergio and Mr. Jones

When I first starting dreaming about starting a band as a young kid, the instrument that I wanted to play was guitar. My dad's upright bass was cool, my brothers' brass instruments also had some charm, but that guitar seemed to offer more options. It could wail just as easily as it could coo. It rocked.

One of the first guitarists that I looked up to was Tito Jackson of the Jackson Five. Not only could he play (or so it seemed), he could move around while he did it. As a kindergarten kid, with limited access to what was happening musically in the early '70s, Tito was all I needed to see to seal the deal. Plus, he had the same first name as Tito Puente, the great Latin jazz bandleader, whose Greatest Hits album I got for my birthday around the same time.

The above photo comes from the inner sleeve of Get It Together, the J5's 1973 album. The outer cover had the initials GIT die-cut, so you could see the picture of the band underneath. That red Gibson ES 345 just looked so cool in Tito's hands. During "Hum Along and Dance," the brothers yell, "Play it, Tito," which cues a wild guitar solo that channels the outer space velocity of both Jimi Hendrix and Funkadelic's Eddie Hazel. It might be the work of an anonymous session guy, but if that IS Tito, he was a monster on the guitar. The truth might not be ever found without extensive research, so out of respect to Tito and my youthful mind, I'm just going to assume it was him. 

My friend Eric, who lived up the street from me up until halfway through First Grade, and I used to listen to this album a lot, as well as the Jackson 5 records that I peeled off the back of Alpha-Bits cereal boxes. That was the way I first got to hear "I Want You Back," "ABC," "Goin' Back to Indiana" and "Sugar Daddy." (The record of "Maybe Tomorrow" eluded me, but I never liked that song as much when I finally heard it.) 

In our naïve minds, the Jacksons all played their own instruments. This idea was probably fueled by photo we saw of them once picking up instruments in the studio, a realization I had when I came across the photo again more recently. Clearly Tito and Jermaine handled guitar and bass. Somehow, we thought Jackie handled keyboards and Marlon played congas. That left Michael on.... drums? Why not? Micky Dolenz "played" them in the Monkees and he sang lead most of the time. No reason Michael couldn't do it either. 

I still have that same copy of Get It Together, a birthday present from my great aunts, which, if I got it for my sixth birthday, means it had only been out for a month. Initially, I probably wished it had some of the hits, but that didn't stop me from playing it. Now, it stands as an overlooked part of the band's career, heading in a solid funk direction. "Hum Along and Dance" is a great dance number with two heavy grooves in it, begging to be sampled. (One of the brothers is way off in the harmony parts, but that's a small price to pay.) Ironically, that song was originally done by the Temptations, clearly as a filler song with not much too it. That J5 really fleshed it out. 

When Michael Jackson went on to superstardom, Tito kind of faded into the background. Next thing you knew - as a friend pointed recently to me - Eddie Murphy made him a punchline during his Raw comedy hit, which really zapped Tito's cred. I never gave up on him. While I never had a chance to hear his solo album from a few years ago, it was cool to see him reviewed in downbeat, doing something new that wasn't aimed at cashing in on the family legacy. RIP, Tito.

Around the same time that I was about to discover the Jackson 5, there was a triumvirate of musicians that my dad turned me on to: Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass, the 5th Dimension and Sergio Mendes and Brasil 66. I couldn't get enough of them. Too young to read, I knew each one by the album cover and I could figure out side one from side two by the shapes of the words on the labels.

In the case of Sergio's Equinox album (above), Pop had it as a pre-recorded cassette and when I was good enough to be granted access to his tape stash (which also included 5th Dimension's Greatest Hits), Equinox was usually one of the first ones I'd grab. Years later, I picked up a cheap vinyl copy and, even as a 19-year old punk kid, it still conveyed breezy magic. Bossa nova arrangements of songs like "Night and Day" and "Watch What Happens" got stuck in my brain and likely created a standard for what was possible with music. The Portuguese-language songs like "Triste" and "Gente" were also really catchy too, cuing me into different countries and languages out there. The group's version of Little Anthony's "Goin' Out of My Head" is from a different album (their debut) but Lani Hall's heartbroken delivery set the standard for how I thought that song should sound. It sounded really dramatic.

In the early 2000s. I was working as Arts Editor at a short-lived alt-weekly paper called Pulp. One day my phone rang and after I picked up, I heard an accented-voice say, "Hello, Mike? This is Sergio Mendes." It wasn't completely out of the blue. He was slated to perform at the Manchester Craftsmen's Guild and I had informed the venue that I wanted to preview the show. But hearing the voice of the legendary guy saying my name gave me a thrill. I had to call my dad and let him know. The interview took place about a week later and I saw the show, which was a little on the Vegas slick side. A few years later, Sergio's career received another major boost, when he collaborated with the Black Eyed Peas. 

But for me, it's those early albums that still retain the magic. Thanks for everything, Sergio.

I've included the cover of The Fool On the Hill not only as an homage to Sergio, who passed on September 5, and to my dad (whose been gone almost 10 years, and who owned that album), but also to recall a joke that my sister Claire and I had about the cover shot. Sergio looks happy as a clam in the photo while everyone else look sad or dead serious. Karen Phillips, on the right, looks especially pissed off. Why? Claire and I always thought they were mad that they didn't get to sit in the chair.

In closing I must pay tribute to James Earl Jones, who also left us recently. Mister Jones had one of the most distinctive voices in movie and television of course. Darth Vader is all well and good, but my first exposure to him came with a record that I bought from the Arrow Book Club, the program through Scholastic Books where we were album to order books and occasional records through school. Jones read the adaptation of John Henry that Ezra Jack Keats published. I didn't buy the book at that time, so I only had that deep voice to take me into the story. 

To say that he brought things to life was an understatement. Of all the records to lose while growing up, this was one of them. But I can still hear the opening lines: "A hush settled over the hills. The sky swirled soundlessly around the moon." He was so dynamic, yet warm. Years later, when I volunteered to read to my son's class, I ordered that book so I could channel Mr. Jones as I read it. I probably didn't come close to his delivery, but I did pay homage. 

Thanks, Mr. Jones. 

CD Review: Miles Okazaki - Miniature America

Miles Okazaki

Miniature America

(Cygnus) cygnusrecordings.bandcamp.com

"In the context of the road trip, it seems that Miniature America could be a roadside attraction, just beyond that hill in the distance. It's announced on a billboard that promises something you've never seen before, a one-of-a-kind curiosity." 

These words come from Miles Okazaki's liner notes to his newest album, a thought that adds a cinematic element to the 22 tracks. If the music herein was a roadside attraction, the experience might play tricks on the mind, blurring the line between reality and bleary-eyed hallucinations that come after long hours on the interstate. The brief tracks (11 of them don't even last two minutes) exit as quickly as they enter, making them feel like fleeting dreams, or something seen from the corner of the eye.

Okazaki has assembled a group of seven musicians and three vocalists to help create this exquisite work. The instrumentation includes no bass, drums or any type of percussion. Along with Okazaki's guitars come three saxophones (Caroline Davis, Anna Webber, Jon Irabagon), trombone (Jacob Garchik), vibraphone (Patricia Brennan) and piano (Matt Mitchell). The voices of Fay Victor, Jen Shyu and Ganavya do everything from create angelic choirs to repeat selected lines of poetry or excerpted phrases from Immanuel Kant. The latter occurs in "The Cocktail Party" which evokes its name as Mitchell plays the album's languid theme while disembodied voices chatter in the background. Or maybe the foreground.

The brevity of the pieces works in their favor since they provide passing glimpses into varied and detailed scenes. "Chutes and Ladders" presents 61 seconds of group improv, most of it bathed in reverb. In "Deep River" Victor savors one line of poetry while Okazaki flows around her. The combination of guitar, vibes and piano in "Follow That Car" has a fine layer of distortion floating on top of it, which isn't easy to detect at first. 

When things go on longer, the album feels like a suite that's reaching a finale. "In The Fullness of Time" lasts over six minutes, as Ganavya takes liberties with the melody that first entered in "The Cocktail Party" while Irabagon plays wildly off in the distance. A few tracks earlier, all three of the vocalists turned that same melody into a hymn in "The Firmament."

Throughout the album, Okazaki acts more like a bandleader committed to the sound of the group rather than acting as a major soloist, though his rapid picking does get ample room in tracks like "The Funicular" and "Zodiacal Sign." Along with his standard electric and acoustic guitars, he utilizes a quarter-tone and fretless guitars to toy with the sound through channel-crossing slides and plinks.

When the album concludes, the voices of everyone involved repeat more final lines of poems, and what could be unsettling actually comes off sounding warm and a tad humorous. And it feels like the parting words of those unusual roadside folks - who might not be there if you turn around to look back at them.

LP Review: Harold Land - The Fox

Harold Land

The Fox

(Contemporary/Craft) craftrecordings.com/products/the-fox-contemporary-records-acoustic-sounds-series-180g-lp

The Acoustic Sounds vinyl reissue of Harold Land's The Fox fulfills an important task not only because it shines a bright, crisp light on a great album but also because it helps to elevate the profile of three criminally overlooked jazz musicians. 

First on that list is, of course, tenor saxophonist Harold Land. Even during his fruitful years, albums like Harold In the Land of Jazz and West Coast Blues seemed to lament how recognition and great attention seemed to evade the man who once played in a band that was poised (legitimately) to be the one of the most revered acts in jazz - the Clifford Brown-Max Roach Quintet. Land left the group to take care of his family, and Sonny Rollins held the tenor chair until Brown and Richie Powell died in a car accident. While some of Land's later recordings helped elevate his name, he still could use more props.

Trumpeter Dupree Bolton, Land's foil on The Fox, also had the cards stacked against him. Leonard Feather's liner notes of this album emphasized the mysterious background of the gifted trumpet player by citing a quote that Bolton gave to a downbeat editor about running away from home at the age of 14. (He offered no other information about himself.) In 2009, a somewhat lackluster collection of performances offered some background in the notes about Bolton's life, much of which was spent behind bars. The info could be found in my writeup at this link. Suffice to say, Bolton's incredible technique and improvisation ideas were inversely related to his personal life. More on that in a minute.

Finally, there's pianist Elmo Hope. The one time close associate of Thelonious Monk, who was judicious in his choice of piano playing friends, Hope died in 1967 at age 43, leaving behind too few recordings of some really advanced compositions. He also recorded a few blowing sessions that featured John Coltrane on his way up, thereby capturing both players in their young and ambitious phase. The Fox was recorded in 1959, when Hope was living on the West Coast, and he wrote four of the six tracks, so this album really does him right. 

Bassist Herbie Lewis and drummer Frank Butler complete the lineup. Not to downplay their efforts but both were pretty well-documented players throughout their lives. And they also elevate the music here. 

The quintet barrels out of the gate immediately in the Land-penned title track. In some ways, it's built like a standard bop theme that's played at a rapid tempo. But on closer examination, the harmonic direction sounds like Ornette Coleman's version of bebop. You're expecting a return to the A part after Land tears it up for a few bars. But no, the theme is over and Land has jumped into the solo. 

While some greenhorns have trouble maintaining a bebop tempo, the tune seems to have trouble keeping up with the band; they play like they want to break away. Land has to blow a long note in his second chorus to catch his breath. Bolton matches his speed and ingenuity. Following the Hope ballad "Mirror-Hand Rose" they bring the energy back up with another tune by the pianist, "One Second, Please." 

The pianist gets the first solo on his "Sims A-Plenty" which goes to great lengths in support of the staying power of his work. Delivered with a catchy shout from the horns at the start and finish, this one should be a hard bop standard. "Little Chris" also proves that the right combination of West Coast players could write and blow with as much fire as their East Coast cousins.

It might come as a surprise that when Contemporary Records released The Fox, it was already a reissue. The small Hi-Fi Jazz imprint released the first edition in 1960, a full nine years before Lester Koenig had the smarts to give this ace session a second chance. This new edition might not have the Saul White painting of the original, but the cover profile of Land is enough to capture the gravity of the music in these grooves, and invites everyone to reexamine this overlooked classic. As far as the reissue goes, the pressing captures the fire of the quintet. Among other things, it can make a listener lament that Dupree Bolton - who sounds somewhere between the groundbreaking of Dizzy Gillespie and the forward vision of Booker Little - had so few chances to pursue his muse.

CD Reviews: Luke Stewart Silt Trio - Unknown Rivers / Kim Cass - Levs

Pi Recordings recently released two albums under the leadership of two different bassists. Both meet the level of expectation and adventure that usually come from this cutting edge imprint and neither one sounds a bit like the other.

Luke Stewart Silt Trio

Unknown Rivers

(Pi Recordings) pirecordings.com/albums/unknown-rivers/

Luke Stewart might be the kind of player that would be considered a bassist's bassist. A member of Irreversible Entanglements and a regular presenter of jazz concerts in the D.C. area, he has also performed with a wealth of musicians such as David Murray, Wadada Leo Smith and jaimie branch. As a leader, he knows how to not only sustain a groove but to build on it without letting the direction get lost.

Unknown Rivers presents him in two trios. Both feature tenor saxophonist Brian Settles. The first four tracks have Trae Crudup on drums while the remaining three come from a live set with Chad Taylor behind the kit. Both lineups have plenty going for them, and hearing them back-to-back makes this a strong album.

"Seek Whence" opens the set with a melody that recalls the jagged, clipped theme of Thelonious Monk's "Evidence," with a harmonic framework that puts the focus on the 7/4 groove (with a measure of 4/4 tacked on to the end to keep the listener's attention). "Baba Doo Way" also has an infectious melody based on the phrasing of the title, which Steward and Settles play in unison before going off. Crudup sets up some free rolls and cymbal splashes in "You See?," which motivates his comrades to explore the free possibilities of the mood. Stewart slides up and down the neck and Crudup keeps a low level fire going, eventually inspiring Settles to move from a more subdued stayed into more ecstatic mood. "The Slip" has another vamp in 7/4, with a groove that would still make a great sample. 

The three tracks with Chad Taylor come from a live performance which flows together like an multi-section suite. It begins with the energy at a high level, thanks to a two-minute drum showcase at the start of "Amilcar" before Stewart digs into a rich descending bass line. The nearly 13-minute "Dudu" is something of an epic within itself, starting with a bowed bass line and featuring a pensive tenor line that flows through. 

The sparks created by the performances on Unknown Rivers make it the kind of album that feels very of-the-moment, yet this music also has a very timeless energy that recalls classic artists who straddled vamps and pure freedom. 

Kim Cass

Levs

(Pi Recordings) pirecordings.com/albums/levs/

By contrast Kim Cass' Levs fits in the Pi discography with other demanding albums that fly past the ears so quickly that it can be a challenge to untangle what is going on. The bassist has appeared on a few albums that fit that description, including two by pianist Matt Mitchell (A Pouting Grimace and Phalanx Ambassadors), drummer Kate Gentile's Find Letter X and Snark Horse (the group helmed by Mitchell and Gentile) on their six-disc album. 

The pianist returns the favor, playing through Levs, along with drummer Tyshawn Sorey. Most of the 13 tracks also include Laura Cocks (flutes) and Adam Dotson (euphonium), though both function mainly as coloring to the sound, rather than soloists. Sometimes they blend so well with Mitchell's Prophet-6, that a unique, different sound is created; at other times they sound like a vintage mellotron. 

Cass composes in relatively short segments. All but one of the tracks last barely more than three minutes, and nearly all of them end suddenly, some with no fanfare after the final chord, others sounding like the tape was cut. Within the confines of each piece, plenty happens, though. Mitchell and Cass play some thoughtful parallel lines in "Gs." "Time" starts with a press roll that launches Mitchell into something that starts off like twisted piano boogie, which flow without a break for two minutes until that quick cut-off arrives. Even when things seem to be moving rapidly, with Sorey jousting in a three-way match with piano and bass, tracks like "Slag" and "Rumple" have stops in the composition, which offers a sense of clarity to the performance. 

The entire album could be considered a showcase for Cass' technique but certain moments stand out in relief. At the end of the droning "Fog Face," he seems to deftly incorporate the entire range of his instrument in a mere 20 seconds. "Ripley" is built on a bass harmonic that is one of the few moments on the album that feels like a ballad. "Body" also beings with a thoughtful bass solo, with flutes and euphonium girding it. If you're not expecting the stone cold cut at the end, you might think your sound system has malfunctioned.

"Trench" ends the album like an epic, albeit a dark one. Cass has saved the longest piece (six minutes) for his final statement. After spinning so many twisted lines earlier, Mitchell sticks to minor chords. Eventually the bass starts walking underneath while Cocks and Dotson float on the surface and Sorey skitters around. After an intentional lack of climaxes, "Trench" is built on trick endings. It also might be the darkest piece of instrumental music Pi has released since that first Starebaby album. But that isn't a criticism.

Talkin' Velvet Monkeys On Another Blog

Velvet Monkeys. Back: Elaine Barnes.
Front: Charles Steck, Don Fleming, Jay "The Rummager" Spiegel

In addition to this space, I contribute about once a month (or two) to my friend Will Simmons' blog The Gullible Ear. The idea behind each entry requires the writer to pick one song and discuss it. Usually they subjects are off the beaten track but even the popular ones are not the ones that you've read about endlessly. In the past I expounded about songs by the 5th Dimension, Little Richard and Herbie Mann, digging into what they really mean to me, as well as unsung bands like Boston's Christmas.

Early this month, I chose "World Of," a song by the Velvet Monkeys, the early '80s DC quasi-garage pop band that included Don Fleming and Jay Spiegel (both later of B.A.L.L. and Gumball and charter members of Half Japanese). The band's Future album has just been remastered for its 40th anniversary and is available on Bandcamp as Future 20/40. 

When I bought the album, I didn't download all the bonus tracks at first because I was on deadline. Nor did I notice the plethora of photos that came along with them, including radio playlists, in all their typewritten glory. There were also a bunch of promo photos of the band. One of the least flattering ones appeared on the back of a Velvet Monkeys compilation that Shimmy-Disc released in 1989. I figured it was time to spotlight how fetching this band, so here we have two photos of them.  

The blog post can be found here. 

The album itself can be found here. I suggest checking out both.