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

Tomeka Reid Quartet

dance! skip! hop!

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

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

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

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

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

Adam O'Farrill

Elephant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caroline Davis' Return to Pittsburgh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Preview: Album Release by AurallaurA

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

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

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

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

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

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

CD Review: Brandon Seabrook - Hellbent Daydream

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

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

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

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

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

CD Review: Angelika Niescier - Chicago Tapes

Angelika Niescier

Chicago Tapes

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saluting Tim Thomas and Babe the Blue Ox

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

Phillip Golub/Lesley Mok

Dream Brigade

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

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

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

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

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

Camila Nebbia, Marilyn Crispell & Lesley Mok

A Reflection Distorts Over Water

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

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

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

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

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