DL Review: Ivo Perelman - Reed Rapture In Brooklyn, Part Four - With Lotte Anker

While I'm not sticking to a set time schedule, I'm continuing my listening journey through Ivo Perelman's set of 12 duets with different saxophonists. 

 

Ivo Perelman
Reed Rapture In Brooklyn

(Mahakala)  ivoperelman.bandcamp.com/album/reed-rapture-in-brooklyn

Part Four - With Lotte Anker 

The first three duet sessions in Reed Rapture In Brooklyn paired the Brazilian tenor man up with some players who frequent different jazz scenes, so to speak, than Perelman. Tim Berne is no stranger to pure improvisation, but Joe Lovano and David Murray, perhaps in terms of their longevity and output, represented some wild card pairings. The performances that feature alto and soprano saxophonist Lotte Anker feels more like a meeting of kindred spirits, two players coming together more as avant peers. 

Whether or not it's the case, Anker and Perelman play like longtime friends with similar ideas. This example comes in the first track (again, there are no titles, only numbers) when Anker hints at a particularly frenzied pitch and Perelman jumps right onto that same pitch seconds later. It galvanizes both of them, lifting the energy of the performance. On this track, Anker's alto tone recalls the pungent attack of Anthony Braxton: she's gravelly and scrappy, forcing notes from her horn in a deep breath, turning them into feedback when they crash to the surface. 

When the duo dips into the upper registers of their respective horns, they aren't content to merely hold onto a long tone for dear life. "2" is marked by a flurry of fast-moving notes that sound like birds. As they accelerate, it sounds like more birds have joined the flock. One track later, Anker's soft squeaks on soprano feel almost soothing, leading to a section where Perelman echoes her notes almost like a canon.

Moments of wild shrieks pop up throughout the session, but the duo also has a fondness for ending several improvisations with a natural decrescendo. Sometimes it must be hard to tell whether an improv should keep going or stuff. These two appear to have an instinctual ability to sense when the time is right to stop, and how to do it. 

After concluding "5" that way, they begin the next track in the same mood. Perelman reveals the scope of his musical knowledge by playing low and smoky at first, almost like a swing player or, to be more accurate, a disgruntled balladeer who fights a battle between angst and sentimentality as he blows. During this 11-minute track - the longest of their set - Anker appears to echo him in a way that makes the music sound like a close conversation. 

All of this could be incorrect conjecture about Perelman and Anker. Maybe they are old friends. Maybe they talked extensively before the session about their musical philosophies. Regardless of how much preparation they made, it yielded some great saxophone discussions here.