CD Review: Richard Poole/Marilyn Crispell/Gary Peacock - In Motion

Richard Poole/Marilyn Crispell/Gary Peacock
In Motion
(Intakt) www.intaktrec.ch

In Motion undoubtedly describes this trio's performance, but it's hard to see the names of Marilyn Crispell (piano) and Gary Peacock (bass) and not think of the title as something of a reference to their late co-conspirator, drummer Paul Motian. His musical strokes complemented Crispell's exploratory keyboard work and Peacock's probing, rich bass lines so exquisitely that their recordings should be regarded as some of the best works of modern piano trios.

Of course, drummer Richard Poole's name appears first on the album cover, so it wouldn't be fair to simply talk about him only in reference to his predecessor. While he might borrow some tips from Motian - such as knowing when a gentle cymbal is worth a dozen rolls - he reveals his own personality and works skillfully together with his compatriots. "Dichotomy" serves as the best introduction, wherein the tranquility of Peacock's measured, opening bass solo is shattered with explosive drums and a chaotic piano attack the likes of which Crispell hasn't unleashed in years. The pattern repeats itself and between the performance and track title, it evokes joie de vivre.

By contrast "Serakunda" finds the trio in a completely different setting with a bright, folky melody anchored by Peacock, whose tone and attack vibrates with authority throughout the whole album. The bassist's "Gary's Theme" is the one track not attributed to the trio, and the one that wasn't a spontaneous invention. Crispell develops on the author's lead by adding short lines, while Poole holds a pulse, and takes a brief solo.

Much of the album moves in a manner that implies time without actually stating it or abiding by it. How the trio uses it makes all the difference. "Isle of Nowhere" is a delicate ballad that sounds composed, with rolling cymbals and Peacock working like a second voice, rather than accompanist. "Ahzân" opens gently with piano notes hanging in the air before the bass takes the lead and Poole plays what sounds like hand percussion. The title track is pure freedom, with Crispell's percussive tendencies leading the way, though Poole and Peacock provide the perfect reactions and counterpoints to the piano.

Crispell, Peacock and Poole chose accurately chose an album title that reflects what they do, and whether they're cutting loose wildly or keeping things gentle, the music stays in motion. 

CD Review: Roswell Rudd/Jamie Saft/Trevor Dunn/Balazs Pandi - Strength & Power

Roswell Rudd/Jamie Saft/Trevor Dunn/Balazs Pandi
Strength & Power
(RareNoise) www.rarenoiserecords.com

Octagenarian trombonist Roswell Rudd shows no signs of slowing down. He recently released August Love Song, an album with Heather Masse, a vocalist known largely as a regular on A Prairie Home Companion. While Rudd fits comfortably in a more conventional setting like that one, he still claims ownership to a bold, brassy sound attack that excels in free settings.

That's exactly what happened when he teamed up with Jamie Saft (here on acoustic piano), Trevor Dunn (bass) and Balazs Pandi (drums). At Saft's home studio, the tapes rolled, the band cut loose and Strength and Power reveals the results. The pianist opens the session and the title track with some gentle probing lines. Rudd begins in the background, adding commentary with a wah-wah mute as Dunn and Pandi create suspense. Eventually the mute comes out, and while Rudd expounds mostly in short phrases, they come in authoritative bursts. Throughout the 18-minute track, the group investigates the space between each other, often playing in parallel lines, but the mood is still joyous.

Saft adds to the drive of "The Bedroom" by manipulating the strings of his instrument, creating some strong percussive clatter. "Luminescent" presents evidence that free improvisers can create a ballad with delicate beauty. The opening 30 seconds especially create some strong electricity between the musicians. Rudd later makes a rhythmic suggestion that could have sparked more band synapses, but Pandi - who would have been the person to follow it - doesn't take the bait. The music still delivers fire, but it again seems like the quartet is playing together but they aren't always reacting to one another.

By album closer "Struttin' for Jah Jah" they seem more in tune, mentally. Operating with more of a pronounced 4/4 pulse, Pandi toys with a free bop and a New Orleans shuffle while Dunn dances around him. Saft stabs at chords, coming off like Jazz Advance-era Cecil Taylor. Then there's Rudd - breathing fire that has a vocal quality to it, which is accentuated by the "yeah" he wails on a break between lines. It proves that a veteran player can match wits with three 30- and 40-something players. While things could be a little more pronounced, Strength & Power still has plenty of strong moments. And it appears that Rudd is hopeful for both a follow-up and some live work, so keep an eye on this conglomeration.

This album is available on CD and double-vinyl, as well as other digital formats.

CD Review: Twin Talk

Twin Talk
Twin Talk
(ears&eyes) www.earsandeyesrecords.com

The term "twin talk" comes from the phenomena of cryptophasia, and refers to a secret language that many twins develop at an early age. The Chicago group that uses that term as an identifier actually consists of three people, Andrew Green (drums), Katie Ernst (bass/vocals) and Dustin Laurenzi (tenor saxophone). Nevertheless, the concept make sense when considering the way musicians communicate through music.

Twin Talk's sophomore release features a set of originals where all three interact, often beginning with simple melodies that lead into improvisations which build alternately on straight vamps and rhythmically challenging ones. Laurenzi, who penned all but three of the tracks, likes to volley two- to three-note licks off of Ernst's bass. This happens in the opening "Colorwheel" and "One Foot in Front of the Other," though both tracks yield different results. The latter adds Ernst's voice to the mix, blending with the saxophone like a languid fourth instrument. The repetition gets a bit unnerving at first, recalling Patty Waters at her more tranquil moments, but it eventually breaks into a steady groove that merits the anticipation. "Colorwheel" by contrast is bright and staccato from the get-go.

Ernst sings two of her own songs, which provide greater contrast to the set. "Living Room" is the more unique of the two, where she bows long tones over equally languorous tenor lines and double-time brushes from Green. The one-chorus lyric sounds like a abstract poem that accentuates the melody. "Hush Hush" seems a little closer to a folk tune, perhaps, but neither piece fits easily into any expectations of jazz vocals, which makes both of them work.

For the rest of the album, the trio comes up with pieces that grab the ear either through their ease with odd grooves ("J.J.", "Eleven," the bridge of "Teddy") or strong sense of interaction ("Rupert," with its ascending bass double-stops and use of toms and climactic fills). Ernst demonstrates a particularly thick tone on her instrument, opening her "Martha" with a solo that recalls Charlie Haden's pensive voice. Laurenzi plays with a sense of economy, using a strong narrative to make points without the need to show flash. That role is filled by Green, who doesn't exactly chew up the scenery so much as adds incisive accents that boost the music in all the right places.  In some ways, Twin Talk evokes JD Allen's trio, who can take riffs and put an amazing shine on them. But it's easy to feel a greater sense of adventure just below the surface with these three, such as when they move into free territory or add vocals. Follow this band.

The Urinals Hit Pittsburgh

The past Wednesday night, the Love Letters got to play a show with first-generation LA punk rockers the Urinals. They debuted sometime in the late '70s, released a few 7"s and changed their name to 100 Flowers, as their abilities improved and their songwriting evolved. That band released an album and EP before breaking up around 1983. In that incarnation, they were one of my favorite bands during my early stages of songwriting and playing with Bone of Contention (albeit a few years after their demise), thanks to their blend of chopped-up lyrics, punk attack and a strange bit of pop sense that lingered around the edges.

As it happens, right as I was really absorbing all that music, realizing that I could never be like Mike Watt but maybe I could be like John Talley-Jones, Trotsky Icepick showed up with the album Poison Summer. Ex-100 Flowers guitarist Kjehl Johansen started that group with ex-Last organist-turned-guitarist Vitus Matare (who needs punk names when you have great names like those?). As I was wearing that that marble vinyled album out, I did what you did back then, and I wrote the band a letter. Vitus replied by sending me the first Poison Summer album, by Danny & the Doorknobs. The album title stayed the same, but the band name changed, get it? Long story....

Anyhow, to get back up to this week, in a few steps: Trotsky Icepick finally came to Pittsburgh 25 years ago and played with Bone of Contention. Friendships were established. Talley-Jones later released an EP by the Pundits, a band of which I was a member. The Urinals reunited when all old punk rock suddenly had a new audience. They've released two new albums since then, the most recent being Next Year at Marienbad. 

A mini-tour with the Love Letters didn't exactly pan out, but we were able to set something up with them this past Wednesday at Howler's, which is just around the corner from my place. I shouldn't say this was a dream come true, but it was exciting to see John Talley-Jones for the first time since 1991, meet drummer Kevin Barrett and guitarist Rob Roberge (Johansen left the fold a while back) and to hear some of these songs in person for the first time ever.

It's a thought-provoking prospect, if you ask me: when you're known for music that's over three decades old, how do you co-mingle that with the new stuff, keep people interested and not seem like a nostalgia act? The answer is you treat all things equal and just plow through all of it with abandon. That's just what the band did on Wednesday. They started with "Hologram," which consists of two chords hammered away, Wire-style. Without stopping for much of a breath, Barrett clicked off "Shut Yr Trap" from the new album, which segued right back into "Sex" (an early one that can be found on the complete comp Negative Capability...Check It Out).

It helps that the Urinals' newest material is just as solid as the early stuff too. In a way, they do Wire better than Wire does these days. Roberge didn't take leads per se but he plays more than just power chords. Covering "Little Johnny Jewel" takes guts, and these guys delivered. Plus they were loud.

The Love Letters played as a trio that night because our guitarist Buck was out of town. Normally I might pass on a gig without him, but this was a special occasion, so we played as a trio. It was Mike Prosser's first time being fully shoved into the spotlight but he's assumed a pretty firm position in the band now. We're playing a few of his songs, which I really like a lot, and hope to record someday (at least one of them). Following a show we played at Gooski's about 10 days prior (with Buck), which also went really well, I felt like we are on a pretty good roll.

Since we jumped onto a show that had already been reserved at Howlers, the opening act was a New Jersey punk-influenced rapper who went by the name J-E-double-F. He was pretty intense, looking a bit like Danzig, but kicking it old school with a sampler and breakdowns between verses. He played for about 20 minutes which was just the perfect length of time. I hope he didn't mind being on an odd bill with us, but I think it worked.

The Urinals stayed at my house, so before and after the show we got to socialize a bit. I wish I could've showed them more of the city but they were on their way to Chicago the next morning. At least we had time for breakfast and a few photos, as seen below. For those who don't know, that's me on the left and John Talley-Jones on the right. I look like I don't have a spine but I do. I was between bites of a bagel.

My next wish, to have Trotsky Icepick come to town for my 50th birthday show in October 2017. their new album should be out by that time. And Kjehl has already expressed approval online, so we'll see....

CD Review: Keefe Jackson (& friends), Peter A. Schmid (& friends too)

Keefe Jackson/Jason Adasiewicz

Rows and Rows

(Delmark) www.delmark.com

Keefe Jackson/Josh Berman/Jon Rune Strøm/ Tollef Østvang

Southern Sun

(Stone Floor) www.stonefloorrecords.com

Peter A. Schmid

Chicago Conversations

(Creative Works) www.creativeworks.ch

Tenor saxophonist/bass clarinetist Keefe Jackson never seems content with just one music project. Or two. He's released albums with the cooperative Fast Citizens (a group of Chicago-connected musicians who take turns in the leadership role), a series of quartets and the larger ensembles Project Project and Likely So, the latter an all-reed septet. There are more than I'm either forgetting or leaving out for no reason other than to turn attention towards his latest escapades: a duo session with a longtime Chicago friend; a quartet with another Chicago pal and two Norwegian players; and an album by Swiss multi-reedist Peter A. Schmid which features Jackson and several other musicians engaged in improvised duets and trios. 

Quite simply, Jackson and vibraphonist Jason Adasiewicz are deeply ensconced in the Chicago jazz scene, individually and collectively. But that doesn't mean they won't push and challenge each other, or the unsuspecting listener. Rather than rolling the tapes and just blowing, they work through seven compositions by Jackson and three by Adasiewicz which rely on freedom with bits of themes to hold it together.Rows and Rows features a mix of material, from noirish moods to free, choppy moments and even a theme or two that sound like Blue Note abstractions.

"Questioned, Understood, Possessed" begins with some wild sax blowing over vibes that create a dreamscape, before things slide into a tenor melody that Adasiewicz punctuates on the bars. Jackson plays bass clarinet appears on several tracks, which always guarantees an exciting blend of guttural eruptions and wails. It begins "Where's Mine," in a choppy unison with the vibes, which Adasiewicz uses to create some percussive clanks by clicking the frame and resonators. In "A Rose Heading" he plays chords behind the bass clarinet, followed by "Swap" which is exactly what they do: Adasiewicz takes the lead while Jackson riffs.

Switching back to tenor, Jackson reminded me of the Andrew Hill composition "McNeil Island," a brief out of tempo tune with a prominent theme that featured Joe Henderson. One of the most distinctive tracks of the whole set comes with the hypnotic "Cannon [sic] from the Nothing Suite," whose eerie, repetitive form sounds ripe for a crime scene on The Naked City.

Cornetist Josh Berman has been the brass foil to Jackson in numerous projects that both have lead or co-lead. Southern Sun puts them together with Norwegians Jon Rune Strøm (bass) and Tollef Østvang (drums), who founded the Stone Floor Records label in their home country. The group rapport is immediate. The American players both contributed three compositions while the rhythm players each wrote one. Everyone sounds right at home with the music.

Berman released "Blues" just a few months ago on his Delmark trio album A Dance and a Hop. With a saxophone foil, the Ornette feeling becomes a little more noticeable. The composer gets low and gravelly in his own solo, dispelling any notions of direct homage. His "Cold Snap" has a similar stop-start feel, though this time the whole quartet "plays" the melody, and Berman starts and the bottom register and works up to some shrill notes. 

Strøm's meditative "Melted Snow" has a rubato feel where the horns intertwine, leading to a pensive bass solo that feels understated, though it climaxes with the firm plucking. Østvang's "Blowing in From" closes the album with some of the strongest moments on the session. After the loose-limbed theme, Jackson blows unaccompanied, then the rhythm section dives into a chordless 4/4 mode, setting the scene for Berman to take off. This group should convene more often. The release might be a challenge to find, as the website redirects interested customers to a Norwegian distributor. But maybe some copies have floated into the states.

Some quick research reveals that Swiss multi-reedist Peter A. Schmid enjoys the sonorities of low-end reed instruments. of which he plays a few here: bass and contrabass clarinets and baritone sax. But he also plays sopranino saxophone, albeit very briefly and in a very percussive manner. 

The 24 tracks on Chicago Conversations feature a who's who of the Windy City's free improvisers, all joining Schmid for several tracks of sonic exploration. A few last less than a minute and only two come in around five minutes or a tad beyond. Some performances offer the most extreme examples of free improv, like when Schmid's contrabass clarinet and percussionist Michael Zerang sound like sea monsters scraping fingers nails on a chalk board. 

But at other times, Schmid, Jackson and Waclaw Zimpel (alto clarinet) present different facets of a clarinet trio, from moody long tones to quick percolations to multi-hued conversations. Schmid reveals himself to be a master of percussive slap-tonguing in several of them, sounding less like a reed than a musical PVC pipes. Jackson duets with Schmid on tenor late in the set, which often feels pointilist quality but are always intriguing. Other guests include Berman, percussionist Frank Rosaly (together with Zerang on a few tracks), trombonist Nick Broste and bassist Albert Wildman.

While all but diehard free improvisation fans might be turned off by Chicago Conversations on first blush (I felt like was revealed on the first listen until I went back to it a few times), there are qualities to this music that come out as the album is explored further. The way the various instruments are paced throughout the album helps too, presenting variations within variations to the sound. 

CD Review: Sonny Rollins - Holding the Stage: Road Shows Vol. 4

Sonny Rollins
Holding the Stage: Road Shows, Vol. 4
(Doxy/Okeh) www.okeh-records.com

The recording studio can psyche musicians out. Not necessarily because it can be a relatively sterile, dry place, as compared to the stage, where everything lives in the moment, including the reactions of the audience. The problem with recording studios (if you can call it a problem) has to do with the fact that it allows musicians to overdub and or remove anything from a whole chorus to a series of notes, creating the perfect recording through technology. Or it can trick a musicians into thinking that way. "I began to think, 'Gee, maybe it could come out better,'" Sonny Rollins says in the notes to Holding the Stage. "That had a big influence on why the studio became an inhibiting factor."

That is also why the Great Sage of the tenor saxophone has released a fourth album of live performances. The Rollins that sets foot onstage doesn't have the chance to think about redoing anything. He simply hits the ground running and does what he does best.

Holding the Stage contains a wide span of time, with one track going back to 1979 and winding up with a couple from 2012. (Six months later, health issues required Rollins to take a break from performing, and he has yet to return.) Four tracks come from a September 2001 Boston concert just four days after the World Trade Center attacks, a show which has already been documented largely on Without A Song: the 9/11 Concert. At nearly 30 minutes of the disc, this newly released material serves as the album's foundation, also proving that at a time of uncertainty and sadness, Rollins was there to guide his audience through intense times and start the healing.

The biggest surprise might be the 1979 track, "Disco Monk." The title and the time period might imply a desperate attempt at relevancy, but hold onto your hats. The rhythm section of Jerome Harris (bass guitar) and Al Foster (drums) don't come close to four-on-the-floor, going instead for an elastic groove that acknowledges the serious funk of the time, without forsaking the serious swing of jazz. The tune itself continually breaks away from the upbeat groove to let pianist Mark Soskin get a bit introspective, making it too clever for the dance floor anyway. Rollins, as he does on most of the tracks, exhibits a full-throated sound with some references to songs that he recorded with Monk.

"H.S" pays homage to another collaborator, pianist Horace Silver. The tough blues (recorded in 2006) features trombonist Clifton Anderson adding to the boss' tone, and a tenor solo that gets delightfully gruff in all the right places. "Professor Paul" salutes the late saxophonist/arranger Paul Jeffrey, and suffers from an accompaniment that sounds utilitarian. Chalk it up to a recording quality perhaps, but the seemingly solid group that includes Peter Bernstein (guitar) and Sammy Figueroa (percussion) sounds stiff and unexcited. Rollins can't be deterred though, throwing in a quote from "Old Devil Moon" and making it work.

Several quotes pop up in "Solo," essentially a five-minute cadenza between "Sweet Leilani" and "Don't Stop the Carnival" from the 2001 concert. Rollins' classic "St. Thomas" pops up, as does "The Man on the Flying Trapeze" (he also could make the ridiculous sound sublime) and a few others. Lesser musicians may throw in quotes for yucks, Rollins does it to prove the legitimacy of the material. And I'll be doggone if he doesn't pull it off.

In closing, special mention should be made of "You're Mine You," which comes from the same concert. It might be reading too much into the situation, but Rollins' solo, full of blunt accents and muscular tone, comes off like his way of pulling us out of our fears and reassuring us that, since we are his, things are not too far gone. Even if that isn't the case, he can make you believe. And that's one of many reasons that makes this disc mandatory.

Show Preview: Adam Meckler Quintet.

This space doesn't normally serve as a preview forum for upcoming Pittsburgh shows. Mainly because I don't have it together to stay on top of previews beyond what I write for the local print media. But within a week of hearing about Adam Meckler's show at the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern, his CD arrived in a package with a few others by Minneapolis players, so I put it on before I could think twice. Makes me wonder if the Twin Cities area is similar to Pittsburgh, with maturing talent that's not caught by the national radar.

Meckler's trumpet playing is impressive in his wide range on the horn. He easily shifts into the upper register, displaying a brawny tone when he does, sounding clear but with a roughness that adds character to his voice. And speaking of voice, Wander, his second album with his quintet, contains some strong writing, with intriguing melodic lines, rhythm twists and vamps that make an engaging tug at the ear.

Concurrent with his quintet, Meckler also leads an orchestra that received attention for the 2014 release When the Clouds Look Like This, which was inspired by the work of Maria Schneider and Darcy James Argue. The quintet get a large sound out of Meckler's trumpet and flugelhorn, along with Zacc Harris (guitar), Graydon Peterson (bass), Greg Schutte (drums) and Joe Mayo (on one track) and Nelson Devereaux (on the rest) (tenor sax/soprano).

The title track tricks the listener a couple times, beginning with a rubato melody vaguely reminiscent of Ornette Coleman's "Lonely Woman" before going into a brighter, in-tempo theme. But during the solos the rhythm section tautly holds down a vamp that seems to be in 7/4 with a bar of 5/4 thrown in occasionally. Mayo and Meckler handle it with ease.

The disc comes from three different live performances, which include several pieces where they really stretch out. "The Call" has a staccato melody that resurfaces between solos as Devereaux, Meckler and Harris explore ideas and take things out for 14 solid minutes. "Atomium Jules" adds some skronk and power chords to fray, along with a theme that tips its hat to the Twin Cities' punk forefathers like Husker Du et al. (Well, maybe that's a stretch but these cats can hold their own with the rock.) "Drew's Beard" begins with a folkloric melody, which jumps into a major-minor two-chord groove that makes a great hook.

Opening will be tenor saxophonist John Petrucelli (in a trio), who is one of the city's most promising tenor players.

It all happens on Friday, April 29, starting at 9 p.m. $10. Bloomfield Bridge Tavern, 4412 Liberty Avenue. The BBT is a great, intimate venue which hasn't had edgey jazz like this in ages. Come check it out.

For more info on the artist, go to www.adammeckler.com

CD Review: Henry Threadgill Ensemble Double Up - Old Locks and Irregular Verbs

Henry Threadgill Ensemble Double Up
Old Locks and Irregular Verbs
(Pi) www.pirecordings.com

Last week it was announced that multi-reedist/composer Henry Threadgill won the Pulitzer Prize for the "distinguished musical composition by an American" found on his 2015 album In for a Penny, In for a Pound. Congratulations to Mr. Threadgill, his bandmates in Zooid and to Seth Rosner and Yulan Wang of Pi Recordings, who launched their label to support the composer, and consistently release thought-provoking albums that I wish I had more time to expound upon.

However, right as the Pulitzer announcement was made, Threadgill released a brand new disc with a new ensemble. Double Up features both Jason Moran and David Virelles on piano, Roman Filiu and Curtis MacDonald on alto saxophones, Craig Weinrib on drums and Zooid members Christopher Hoffman on cello and Jose Davila on tuba. Threadgill serves as conductor, and doesn't play any instruments.

The 46-minute suite Old Locks and Irregular Verbs was premiered at the 2014 Winter JazzFest, and I attended the first of two performances at Judson Hall. Dedicated to the late Lawrence D. Butch Morris - who created the concept of "conduction," which combined improvisation and conducting - the piece had a loose abstract quality to it. But even when groups of musicians broke away into what seemed like free improvisation, they played with great deal of direction, never letting their focus wander. When Threadgill took center stage towards the end, directing them in a series of rising, roaring chords, it was an intense experience.

Recorded in a studio over a year later, this disc recreates all the excitement of the initial performance and perhaps more, since it offers the chance to revisit the music repeatedly and discover its contours. According to the press release, most of the music was written out, which can explain why the unusual instrumentation works so well. Moran and Virelles play off of each other, and when they frequently work together, things never get too busy. Both seem pretty evenly panned in the speakers, as do the saxophonists, but "soloists" aren't indicated anywhere, putting the focus back on the piece itself. The saxophones spew sharp, idiosyncratic melodies which are probably worthy of Threadgill himself. Only during "Part Three" does one of them get overly aggressive, spilling out fast lines. Drummer Weinrib adds some intriguing moments on his own, like in "Part Two" where he rests as much he plays a simplistic blend of taps and clicks. In the next section his solo has a rich quality, like a written-through break for the trap kit.

This all paves the way for the final movement (the disc divides "Old Locks" into four tracks though it's actually one continuous piece). Threadgill assembled this section to sound like a funeral dirge, the clearest reference to Morris' passing. But even though the horns gradually create a funereal feeling as it takes shape, the mood does not feel bleak or distraught. The subject is missed but the music evokes both a remembrance of happy bygone days and the desire to move on his honor. That's when those powerful chords crash in, bringing it to a climax. Moran has admitted that the ending always brings him to tears, and it's easy to see why. This is moving music.

If In for a Penny, In for a Pound earned Threadgill the Pulitzer, what will this album get him?

CD Review: Vijay Iyer & Wadada Leo Smith - a cosmic rhythm with each stroke

Vijay Iyer & Wadada Leo Smith
a cosmic rhythm with each stroke
(ECM) www.ecmrecords.com

Upon considering just a few aspect of Wadada Leo Smith's career - pre-AACM recordings with Anthony Braxton, the work of his Creative Orchestra for Moers Music and even his more recent works like The Great Lakes Suites - one project seemed like something of an aberration: Yo Miles, a band that pays tribute to Miles Davis' electric period. As a trumpeter who has gone to great lengths to create his own singular voice on the instrument, it seems like a surprise that he might take the time to look back.

But hearing this album offers a reminder of the connection between the two trumpeters. Davis could always exude a high level of lyricism from a select group of notes. Likewise, Smith is not a busy trumpeter. He likes his long tones, and he likes bending and squeezing them for all they're worth. When he does, they might not be quite as delicate as the Prince of Darkness, but they have a similar dramatic impact. This album presents many opportunities to get a greater understanding of Smith's sound.

Smith and pianist Vijay Iyer have a two-decade history together, which includes five years when they played together in Smith's Golden Quartet (click here for a review of an album). This album centers on its title track, a seven-part suite inspired by the late Indian artist Nasreen Mohamedi. Each section is named for a phrase taken from Mohamedi's diary ("All becomes alive," "The empty mind receives," among them). The music has a loose quality to it, spontaneous but not completely improvised. Some sections begin starkly while others begin like a free wheeling cat-and-mouse chase. Smith emits squirts or wails. Iyer begins with low rumbles on one track and upper register shimmers on another. One piece seems to begin with nearly a minute of absolute silence. Crank up the volume, though, and the sub-woofer sound of Iyer's electronics will be detected.

Therein lies the power of a cosmic rhythm with each stroke. There are moments of beauty to it, like the blend of Iyer's high end cascades and Smith's muted trumpet on "Uncut emeralds." The intervals that Smith takes on "Notes on water," one of several tracks that feature Iyer on Fender Rhodes, sound equally as beguiling in their frankness. This is headphone (or earbud, to be modern) music, where deep listening moves beyond the spare instrumentation that might be felt in a casual listen.

A piece by Iyer and one by Smith, respectively, precede and follow the suite. "Passage" opens the album with a rolling steady tempo from the pianist and long, passionate tones from his accomplice. "Marian Anderson" honors the late operatic contralto/civil rights activist with a warm salute.

These two are coming to town for the Pittsburgh JazzLive International festival and guess who can hardly wait.

Suzanne Vega Remembers

After spending 30 years writing lyrics full of rich details, it's easy to forget one once in a while. Bob Dylan did it early in his career, bemusedly asking the audience for the first line of a song.

Last night at the Carnegie Lecture Hall, Suzanne Vega froze, a few phrases into "(I'll Never Be) Your Maggie May," forgetting what came next. Having already established an intimate rapport with the audience with a little self-deprecation, I was almost expecting her to deadpan, "Line," like a thespian who needs to be prompted. Instead, she stopped, promising to revisit the song later in the set. To regain her footing, she launched into "Gypsy," a song she wrote at age 18 for a camp counselor (more on him later), which she recorded on Solitude Standing in the '80s. She needed a little help when she got to THAT third verse, but a friendly audience member fed her lines, and kept things going.

Even during the time she forgot, Vega maintained her poise, never turning it into a major deal. Unlike her previous Pittsburgh show, where guitarist Gerry Leonard joined her onstage, she was all alone with her guitar last night. She walked onstage with a top hat in hand, like last time, which could mean only one thing: she'd open with "Marlene on the Wall" again, putting on the hat to evoke the song's inspiration, Marlene Dietrich. From there, the set differed greatly from her 2013 appearance.

When I interviewed her for a City Paper article, she said fans could tweet song requests to her and she would try her best to pull them off. The solo set-up would limit what she could pull off (nothing like the more produced "Blood Makes Noise," she specifically said), and that probably explains why she dug into her first two albums for much of the set. "Small Blue Thing," "The Queen and the Soldier," and "Knight Moves" came from her debut. "Luka" and "Tom's Diner" - which might be considered obligatory at this point in her career - came from Solitude Standing, as did the still-romantic "Gypsy" and "Calypso." A couple songs from 2014's Tales of the Realm of the Queen of Pentacles came up too, as well as a couple from Songs in Red and Gray. 

The aforementioned camp counselor, whom Vega knew as a teen, also served as some inspiration to "In Liverpool" from 99.9 Fahrenheit Degrees, since he hailed from the city of Beatles. That song has another one of Vega's swelling choruses, merging hooks and words, and it runs through my head on a fairly regular basis. Hearing it in live was a personal highlight of the set.

Vega through in a few other surprises, beyond the lyric slips. She started her encore with "Calypso," but stopped mid-way, asking the audience how they'd feel about a dramatic reading of Lou Reed's "Dirty Blvd." (She'll be doing for an upcoming PBS program dedicated to New York City.) The way she introduced it seemed like she was going to play it, but she rattled off the words unaccompanied, which worked just as well considering its author did pretty much the same thing. Then she closed with "Rosemary," which appeared as a single, on the Tried and True compilation and on the fourth volume of Close-Up, her set of re-recorded songs.

The show was staged by Calliope, the long-standing local folk music organization that is about to celebrate its 40th anniversary. They're bringing guitarist Leo Kottke to town on Saturday, May 7, which should also be a big night.

(Apologies to openers the Honey Dewdrops, who I missed due to tardiness.)

CD Review: Albert Ayler - Bells/Prophecy

Albert Ayler
Bells/Prophecy
(ESP-Disk) www.espdisk.com

My favorite Albert Ayler record is Vibrations. During high school, I heard in an Ayler album in a used record shop and it got under my skin. My brother told me that if I ever wanted to appreciate and understand the wild tenor saxophonist, I should buy an album, read the liner notes and listen with an open mind. Vibrations proved to be the perfect entry way. It turned my head around and I never looked back. Ayler recorded the session in Copenhagen in 1964, adding trumpeter Don Cherry to his trio with bassist Gary Peacock and drummer Sunny Murray. The second horn was a fortuitous addition. Reissued by Arista-Freedom in 1975, my copy featured excellent liner notes by future Mosaic Records founder Michael Cuscuna. On top of all that, Vibrations was recorded in a decent studio.

The last observation is the important one in the case of this reissue. Many of Albert Ayler's most important albums were recorded under less than stellar conditions. Spirits Rejoice was recorded in New York's Judson Hall. A high-ceiling echoey former church, the setting buried the bass and made Call Cobbs' harpsichord sound like it was played in another room. New York Eye and Ear Control sounded as raw as the shambolic performance. An album of traditional spirituals also lost something due to poor sound.

Bells, originally issued on one side of clear vinyl, was recorded at Town Hall with similar results (though there's no harpsichord). The results were pretty lo-fi, though this edition cleans it up a bit. Ayler, his brother Donald (trumpet) and Charles Tyler (alto saxophone) come through loud and clear, while drummer Murray is heard somewhat and bassist Lewis Worrell cuts through during the quieter passages. Part of the appeal of the initial Bells release was likely due to the packaging, but if you're going for music, this set is a good bet. As Steve Holtje points out, this 1965 performance came at a time when Ayler was moving away from the compositions of the early trio towards a bigger sound based on vamps akin to a frenetic marching band.

ESP first released Prophecy in the 1970s, ironic since the 1964 performances at the Cellar Cafe predated the Ayler trio's debut for the label by a year. It's a valuable document, for one thing because it includes two discs of material, restored to its original order and correct song titles. Ayler classics like the oft-recorded "Ghosts" and the throaty, vibrato heavy "Wizard" (a fave on the Vibrations session) are here, unleashed on what was probably an unsuspecting public, who clap politely and at least seem positively intrigued by the performance.

If you're listening to get a good handle on Ayler's approach to the tenor, Prophecy delivers. Recorded by poet Paul Haines, it clearly reveals how much power Ayler unleashed every time he blew into his horn. His bottom-end growls are spectacular. His vibrato was wide, though light years away from the overstated piddly vibrato used by commercial swing bands.

But even though Peacock and Murray can be heard, it's hard to get a feel for the way the trio interacted. Peacock, who had been playing West Coast cool jazz just a few years earlier, plays some obtuse lines, but the recording leaves them floating amorphously, rather than interacting with Ayler. Murray avoids his massive crashing sounds in favor of more subtle work, which thanks to the record sounds like his spends more time on the cymbals.

That being said, Bells/Prophecy is still required listening for Ayler fanatics. These two have been paired together before in previous issues. (The second disc of Prophecy was previously released under the name Albert Smiles with Sunny. But with quality and availability of them always in question, this version is the ideal copy.

CD Review: Deep Sea Diver - Secrets

Deep Sea Diver
Secrets
(High Beam)

Ever get that feeling when listening to the opening riff of a song where you can't figure out exactly where the beat falls? The Cars' "Let the Good Times Roll" did it to me for decades. Between the off-beat accents from the guitar, syn-drums and the rhythm of the vocal, the two and the four escaped me until the drums kick in.

A slightly different, but equally beguiling feeling greets you at the start of "Notice Me," the opening track of Secrets. The guitar plucks out an angular melody, with several of the notes slightly muffled. It feels like an odd time signature, since the balance keeps shifting. But once Jessica Dobson starts singing and the drums gently assert the beat, the song clearly settles into 4/4. Somehow that guitar seems to have it both ways, playing off the beat but staying within it by playing triplets . It makes a brash opening to an album full of moments that feel a bit unsettling while they still come off as catchy ear candy.

Dobson has been a support player for a number of major bands, most recently the Shins, as well as Beck, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Spoon. If Secrets (DSD's sophomore album) proves anything, she needs to stay in the spotlight, not in the shadows or on the side.

Parts of the album recall St. Vincent's layered arrangements of keyboard washes and guitars that are sometimes free of effects but full of scrappy power chords. The songs have pop elements to them, which the band has developed in the studio, adding some synth sounds that tip the hat to '80s new wave. In a way they recall Merge Records' Hospitality on their Trouble album, which toyed with the indie pop template by adding all sorts of production tricks to embellish the songs. Dobson also has a unique way of phasing, like Hospitality's Amber Papini, that makes her lyrics feel a little more oblique. For example, the seemingly optimistic, piano-driven "New Day" closes the album with the lyric, "I'm alone on a new day/ 'cause you're with someone else," before ending on a Beatle-esque/jazz chord. The way she stretches the line out, it's easy to miss the whole idea without hanging on her every syllable.

One of the most inviting qualities of Secrets is the way Dobson and her crew never stay with one style for too long.  Half of "Wide Awake" is given over to six-string noise over a chugging bass groove. "Body on the Tracks" also climaxes with a single-note guitar solo. "See These Eyes" could be a riff inspired by Dobson's time in Spoon. While "Notice Me" toys with a standard rhythm, "It Takes a Moment" adds an extra beat to the riff, still rocking hard with gnarled guitar work (courtesy of the singer, by the way).

A good blend of arty noise and groovy tendencies, Secrets should not be left to the musical cognoscenti hiding in the shadows.

Keith Jarrett Flips Out

Back in the days before flash mobs, it was a prank that high school students would play on teachers, especially oblivious substitute teachers: At a pre-determined time, everyone would drop their book on the floor or cough. If the teacher was cool, they might see the humor in it. If not, well.... maybe another bit of their psyche was chipped away in the process.

A few nights ago, pianist Keith Jarrett - he who reacts harshly to distractions even if they occur before the performance has even started, as the Umbria Jazz Festival found out the hard way - was on the receiving end of a trick by a dozen or so audience members. The results were not pretty.

The solo performance at New York City's Frick Fine Arts Building began ideally. In fact patrons said they could hear a pin drop, though no one, thankfully dropped any pins for fear of disrupting the pianist's flow of ideas. Jarrett began with a re-imagining of "Stranger on the Shore" which segued into swirling improvisation that didn't touch down for nearly 20 minutes. As the music continues, Jarrett seemed to be in an inspired mood. Then it started.

According to people in attendance, a patron in the back center section of the first level, blew his nose loudly. Worse, he apologized, presumably to the people around him. In the middle of a right hand glissando, Jarrett shot a cold glare into the darkened crowd. Then a serious of coughs, that almost seemed synchronized, came from each section, first center then stage left then stage right. By the time a handful of people accidentally-on-purpose dropped their concert programs booklets, Jarrett had more than enough.

"It was like something out of some old comedy movie," said concertgoer A.P. Rilfool. "He yelled something like, 'Ahhhhhhh' and ran offstage. It was like an Abbott and Costello moment." Confusion ensued, with audience members not sure if the show was over or if it simply hit a speed bump. Most people remained in their seats, though several went to the lobby to smoke.

A group of men, most of them wearing t-shirts bearing images of jazz icons like Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis and Richard Twardzik, stood in the corner of the lobby looking sanctimonious. They wouldn't admit they were responsible for the synchronized distractions. But in a voice that resembled the gentleman on The Simpsons who runs a comic book store (with the pony-tailed look to match), one of the patrons stoically said he hoped Mr. Jarrett might have learned a lesson in audience appreciation. (He displayed a vast knowledge of Jarrett's discography, as he spoke, equally only by his naivete on their ability to change Jarrett's mind in the matter of audience noise.)

The crew at Frick kept audience members hopeful by playing a rather scratched copy of Jarrett's Koln Concert on a turntable hooked up to the p.a. After a stern warning from the m.c., who sounded like he would pummel anyone who make an unwanted noise, Jarrett did return to play one more song: "You Go To My Head."

Delicious Pastries CD Release Show

Last Friday night at Spirit, I nearly felt over-saturated by all the great music that was in the air. The evening marked the release of Pittsburgh band Delicious Pastries' long-awaited sophomore CD Aleatoric Delay. But before the band went on, there were three other bands starting off the evening with solid blends of noisy, edgy rock and pop.

Butterbirds were playing as I arrived, but from what I could gather, they were only a song or two into their set. The four-piece was definitely catchy and tight, with a healthy sprinkle of quirk added to their songs via weird vocal tricks. Maybe it was the influence of the Pixies, maybe it was Of Montreal, either way I don't can't say definitively. But it was a good time.

Shaky Shrines were up next, getting a little heavier and a tad psychedelic. They kind of took me back to Plan 9, a psych band that came here back in the late '80s, since they're singer had a huge mess of hair and beard, they had a female keyboard player who sang back-up and they were filled out by several more clean-cut guys (relatively speaking). I saw a couple singles and a CD on the merch table but didn't get a chance to pick them up. They're things to look for at Sound Cat or Mind Cure.

The only other time I've seen Meeting of Important People was when they played stripped down and semi-acoustic, opening for Dean Wareham. It was good to see them in their full, electric glory. It's also easy to see why these guys have generated buzz around town beyond the indie club scene. They're really tight, like they've really worked meticulously on their arrangements. Before they got that far, they wrote some really strong songs too. Plus their onstage demeanor seemed really genuine and appreciative of the attention they were getting. A band with this kind of draw could turn into a bunch of big shots, but they seem like good eggs.

So how do you follow all of that? Between those three bands and a piece of pizza (recommended) and a few of the usual gin-and-club-sodas, I felt like I had reached sonic saturation. But leaving then would be have wrong.

Sometimes standing in front of the stage while the band sets up can give you an extra feeling of excitement for what's to come. Personally, this feeling dates back to a show at the Electric Banana in 1987 by Sonic Youth. This was back when the band didn't have a stage crew, so Lee and Thurston tuned all of the guitars themselves, onstage, studiously watching the tuner and then setting the instrument to the side before getting to the next one. That memory, along with memories of other bands chatting with audience members while tuning or setting up - it all increases the anticipation.

That same feeling was in the air as Delicious Pastries set up. (Incidentally, if you want to find out more about the band, here's my City Paper article on them from last week.) In part because it took awhile for this party to get started. The usual sextet had another guitarist sitting in (bringing the number of onstage six-stringers to four), plus another trumpet player and a quartet of ladies who added to the Exploding Plastic Inevitable feeling of the evening.

The video at the top of this entry comes from the start of the set, part of an extended introduction. The ladies stood at the back of the stage, in front of the video projection, for just the first song. (They videos continued for the duration of the set.) When it kicked in they each held up a glittery circle, which complemented drummer Jesse Ley's glittery pants. The visuals and that big start were both fairly epic and grandiose, living up to the suspense they had created.

Despite working in such close quarters the band looked really comfortable up there, not cramped at all. Plus all the instruments were pretty clear in the mix, so the wait was worth it. My only problem was feeling a little tired after a few songs. I didn't want to leave so I made my way to the back of the room, where they look of the band reminded me of the back over of The Velvet Underground and Nico. With music that feels closer to the higher points of Olivia Tremor Control, I left hoping that these guy will create some ripples beyond the Pennsylvania state border. There is a good quality video on Facebook, under the page for the record release show. Check that out for a few more visuals.

CD Review: Yoni Kretzmer 2Bass Quartet - Book II

Yoni Kretzmer 2Bass Quartet
Book II
(Out Now) outnowrecordings.com

Tenor saxophonist Yoni Kretzmer reached out by way of social media a few months ago, sending this CD. The imprint Out Now sports a catalog of free-minded players whose music is utilizes both compositions (however sketchy) and free blowing. (One disc, that features bassist James Ilgenfritz and pianist Denmon Maroney was reviewed here.)

A native of Tel Aviv who's lived in Brooklyn for about five years, Kretzmer follows in the tradition of more recent gale-force wailers like David S. Ware, with roots extending back to the passionate delivery of Albert Ayler. To that end, the album begins with a two-note salvo from the tenor that he bends with heavy vibrato as he holds the notes. It has a spiritual flair to it which announces that this set might be wild and free, but nuance will play a big part of it.

The use of two basses plays a significant part in the group's sense of nuance. Panned separately between both channels (with no indication of who is who) Reuben Radding and Sean Conly work together to buttress Kretzmer's playing and add additional color to it. Frequently, one of them bows a countermelody while the other acts as a pizzicato support player. It can be easy to let this music turn muddy with low end sounds, but that's never an issue on this album. Drummer Mike Pride assists in that regard, adding the type of explosions and punctuation that drive the music and add more passion to it.

The group had been together for four years by the time of this recording and the rapport shows in the music. They leave plenty of the music up to chance, but they know how to elevate things rather than pulling it in different directions. "Freezaj" goes for broke in terms of raw energy, bookended by a drum solo and a bass duet. Conversely, "Stick Tune" starts in a frenzy and then drops down dynamically, where a slow theme reveals itself before the quartet slowly builds back up to a loud joyful climax. Throughout, Kretzmer plays with an arresting blend of low, throaty notes (with a rich tone that betrays a musical knowledge that extends beyond just his wild forefathers) and he exemplifies the same level of command in the upper register of his horn. "Ballad" might not be exactly romantic in the traditional sense, but it takes the mood down and reveals all of Kretzmer's strengths in a directed three-minute blast.

A two-CD set, Book II's second disc is devoted entirely to "Number 4," a nearly 20-minute excursion where the lines between composition and improvisation are hard to discern. It begins on slightly shaky ground: As the basses and drums roll away, Kretzmer bends the hell out of a two-note trill, running them through every color and reed manipulation, until - after four minutes of this - the rhythm section leaves him alone briefly, and counterattacks with both basses utilizing their bows and plunging the depths. But it all works like an extended free introduction, since Kretzmer returns with a line that puts it all in perspective. (It sounded like Miles Davis' "Four" gets a quick reference from him at one point.) At this point, what might have seemed indulgent makes perfect sense, and what follows never lacks vigor or direction. Good times.

CD Review: Irene Schweizer/Han Bennink - Welcome Back

Irene Schweizer/Han Bennink
Welcome Back
(Intakt) www.intaktrec.ch

I received a sizable stack of CDs from Switzerland's Intakt label last year but only got a chance to write about a few of them. This one made its way into the CD player recently and I vowed to say something about it, even though it came out last summer.

Pianist Irene Schweizer has released a number of discs for the Swiss imprint, playing with a variety of people. It's clear why: she's extremely versatile, able to move easily between structure and freedom, always with a sense of immediacy. Han Bennink is an ideal foil for her, as he's probably Europe's best drummer when it comes to sliding between hard swinging and smashing the pulse to pieces and putting the bits back together into something even more enthralling than it was when it began.

One main reason that Welcome Back warmed its way into my heart can be attributed to the element of surprise throughout the album. The 14 tracks are compositions not improvisations, with all of the originals attributed to Bennink or Schweizer individually, with just two exceptions. Just when it seems that the piano and drums are taking a wild, free romp or going on a cat-and-mouse chase, the duo gets lyrical. Schweizer's chords in "Trap 5" have a rough beauty, and the arhythmical drums slowly shape into a stomp. "Bleu Fonce" finds them skating very close to Bobby Timmons' "This Here" definitely in groove, somewhat in melody.

Thelonious Monk's influence runs through the album, even before they close the set with "Eronel" (which Monk buffs will know was not technically his, but lifted from Sadik Hakim). Schweizer uses Monk's bouncing-a-ball-off-the-wall rhythmic lick in one tune, closes another with tag worthy of Thelonious and brings his presence to Johnny Dyani's ballad "Ntyilo Ntyilo."

"Meet Me Tonight in Dreamland" shows a great study in contrasts between the two musicians. The pianist plays the melody straight which Bennink sounds as if he's rummaging through his percussives, looking for the best thing to play, pausing to whistle, almost like a Tex Avery cartoon character, which may or may not imply what will happen in Dreamland once the meeting takes place. In just over two minutes, they've managed to show humor, sincerity and most of all depth.

Speaking of depth, Schweizer and Bennink pay tribute to pianist Misha Mengelberg (Bennink's longstanding co-conspirator in the ICP Orchestra) with "To Misha With Love," which is then followed by a sweet reading of "I Surrender Dear." It all adds up to a session that should have been heard by more ears last year. Now's a chance for some rediscovery.

Keith Emerson - An Appreciation

I'm a few days late and more than a few dollars short but I feel the need to post an appreciation of Keith Emerson, who died last week in an apparent suicide. His passing is one thing, not completely out of the blue, since he was 71 and for all I know  all those wild years of tours might have started to catch up with him. But the fact that it was a suicide lends a bit of tragedy to it. People who commit suicide are not happy, consumed usually by either a mental or physical illness. Being sad is one thing, pulling the trigger means really crossing a dark line. I wish only the best to his family.

But I've come to praise Mr. Emerson.

I'm not sure exactly when I first heard Emerson, Lake and Palmer's first album, but there's a good chance that I was between the ages of 4 and 6. My oldest brother owned it, and he's 10 years older than me. I was at an age when I had no idea how music was made. I mean I knew my dad was a bassist and knew that he created music. But in listening to records, all my aural reference points were usually non-musical. So the opening fuzz bass of "The Barbarian" made me think of an electric razor. And the idea of a musical instrument approximating that was way cool. So I was into that album from the first note, literally. But that song got better. Emerson's Hammond organ sounded so vicious. So much so that when he switched to piano in the middle, it almost sounded comical, in the best possible way.

One of the magical things about that album was that, not being able to read the cover, I had no idea where one song ended and the next began. So "Take a Pebble," which goes from a folk song to a piano solo to a breakdown that morphs into a handclapping jam, and then goes in reverse, just felt magical. When that final verse came around, it always felt like another song.

"Knife Edge" continued the rockist side. Greg Lake's vocal always felt a tad menacing during the verses,and I loved the way the dynamics shifted when the organ kicked in. Then in the middle, the classical break reminded me of church. Incidentally I just discovered the remastered version of this song on youtube, where the tape isn't shut off at the end, which on the original record created the sound of the music melting into molten lava (what I always envisioned back in the day, since the sound was so eerie). It was cool to hear it a different way, but they were wise to end it the way they did.

Then there's "The Three Fates," Emerson's trio of keyboard spotlights, going from a heavy Royal Festival Hall Organ into a piano solo to a frantic piano trio. It was kind of creepy and eerie, especially those low, low organ notes but I couldn't get enough of it.

In the ELP canon, their debut might not be their most highly regarded work, but it's one that I go back to every six months or so. I also pull out Trilogy occasionally, the album that inspired me to deck out my bedroom with my own vision of Emerson's keyboard arsenal, and pretend to play along like I was him. But that first album has more staying power. Part of it probably has to do with hearing it so young and going back to that mental space where nothing in the world mattered except music, and the wilder the better. Another thing might be that the group was in their early stages - they supposedly didn't have a full set of material when they went into the studio - and they were discovering all of their capabilities and you share in their excitement by listening. I still feel that anytime I put that record on.

Of course, ELP later turned bombastic. Their pretension supposedly inspired the creation of punk rock. But I just read in an article about Emerson that even John Lydon himself eventually became friends with the master keyboardist. And as time went on Keith seemed to maintain a good measure of humility about his work, at least in more recent interviews. So I respect him for that as well.

Lizz Wright in Pittsburgh

Playing right now: Julian Lage - Arclight

I haven't been inside the August Wilson Center for African American Culture since Pharoah Sanders played there over six years ago. Funding problems almost closed the place in the past couple years, but it appears to be solvent, at least for the moment. I hope so because it's a beautiful, massive building, named for an amazing Pittsburgh playwright.

Lizz Wright performed there last Saturday night. If the idea of her rich voice wasn't enough to create some opening suspense, she made a mysterious entrance, walking out of the shadows to center stage, accompanied only by Brannen Temple's drums. Once up at the mike, she started her set with "Nature Boy," bending and curving the melody line with authority. Guitarist Chris Rosser, bassist Nick D'Amato and pianist/organist Dave Cook came out next to play the rest of the set with her.

After an opening that was both dynamic and somewhat understated, Wright took things s next, for which slow for the next number, a fact that she even commented on between songs. The 75-minute set did include several down tempo songs, though luckily only a few of them seemed to slow the momentum. And even though the songs were each about five minutes long, she brought things back to life quickly. Her version of Neil Young's "Old Man" was a highlight, especially with a B3 solo by Cook. "Freedom," written by her friend Toshi Reagon, felt passionate and urgent.

Wright really got the crowd cooing when she sang a song that was going to appear on her recent Freedom and Surrender album, Roberta Flack's "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face." It is a great romantic number, but it should be handled carefully, lest it take a one way ticket to Maudlinville. Wright imbued it with the right blend of romance and sensuality, giving her partial ownership of the classic.

For the final number of the set, the group went into one of the covers that did appear on the Freedom album, the Bee Gees' "To Love Somebody." Their version had a down home, churchy feeling, at a tempo the song hasn't seen since Janie Joplin covered it. Wright, though, didn't turn it into the soul exorcism that Janis did, with horns and distraught wails. She kept the gospel feeling in it, which made sense after the band segued into "Surrender," the album's closing song and the one that was made to bring the house down at the end of the night. And that it did. Even without the choir that backed her on the album.

There might have been an encore, but my eight-year-old sidekick was ready to go at the point, so we decided to beat the traffic and scram.

Incidentally, Kente Arts Alliance, who presented the show, will be bringing the Sun Ra Arkestra to town in September.

CD Review: Melissa Aldana - Back Home

Melissa Aldana
Back Home
(Wommusic) www.wommusic.com

Melissa Aldana has received a nice amount of buzz in recent times. She won the Thelonious Monk International Jazz Saxophone Competition in 2013, at the relatively young age of 24. An album with her Crash Trio appeared on Concord Records a year later, which kicked the media attention into high gear. Jazz, of course, loves a young lion, especially a female who is not a singer.

But minutes into her newest album  with the trio, it's clear that Aldana is more than just a young media sensation. The Chilean native possesses a tone with a richness and depth that combines with a sharp melodic sense. Having discovered Sonny Rollins at the age of 6, she has already taken the time to absorb his music and realizes how to channel his lessons into her own idiosyncratic authority.

The open quality of a tenor/bass/drums format puts a player's chops to the test, and Aldana proves her tenacity but what she plays and what she doesn't play. Bassist Pablo Menares and drummer Jochen Rueckert accompany her in a manner that keeps the structure close at hand. Sometimes she floats over them, with a lithe tone that seems to contemplate the variety of moves she can make. In "Obstacles," written by Rueckert, she starts off restrained, going against the rhythm section's brisk tempo. Eventually, she catches up, adding some fast arpeggios to wrap up her solo. She ends "En Otro Lugar" with some long tones, which she bends slightly, adding a few upper register squeaks as a final statement.

Back Home features compositions from all three trio members (Aldana wrote four, her mates each contributed two). The sole cover is Kurt Weill's "My Ship" which she delivers in a classic tenor mold: deep tone, full of breath that plays up its lyrical quality. Wisely, perhaps, the group keeps it simple, with a theme and just a bit of embellishment before taking it out.

Aldana's own compositions often sound like familiar themes that offer surprise when they take different turns. The opening phrases of "Time" begins like a classic ballad that has been played umpteen times. But the saxophonist creates a new line, with some rubato accompaniment from Menares and Rueckert, whose mallets and cymbal rolls give it a muscular opening. Aldana wisely put the title track at the end of the album. Here, she sounds closest to Rollins, with a boppish line that offers yet another update to a straightahead style. By this time, there's no doubt that Aldana's new path links with tradition but won't be limited to just that.

Saturday - Jeff "Tain" Watts

Jeff "Tain" Watts might have left Pittsburgh more than three decades ago, playing with Wynton and Branford Marsalis and temporarily landing a gig on The Tonight Show, but he hasn't forgotten his roots. Not his jazz roots, his hometown roots. This was plain to see before he even took stage at the Kelly-Strayhorn Theater last Saturday. The front head of his bass drum was emblazoned with the Pittsburgh Steelers logo. Watts engaged the audience between songs with a rapport that was casual and amusing, like an old friend. It made the two-hour show fly by, never seeming like it was anywhere near that long.

The band also included Pittsburgh native David Budway on piano, along with bassist Yunior Terry Cabrera and tenor saxophonist Troy Roberts. They started the evening started with a reading of Thelonious Monk's "Brilliant Corners," one of the few non-originals of the night. When Monk recorded the piece, he forced his bandmates to switch into double-time at unpredictable moments. Watts had the group start the head with a heavy 4/4 backbeat, move to double- and then triple-time. The sound during the early part of the set didn't give Budway a fair representation, but he displayed a playful quality in his solo, as did Roberts.

To keep the focus on the music, Watts frequently introduced groups of four tunes in advance, so the group dug into them. "Farley Strange" gave Budway a chance to do some more Monk-like piano figures. "May 15, 2011" was a slow ballad  in which Watts himself took the place of Frank McComb, who sang it on the Blue, Vol. 1 album. The performance displayed a great lyric, with a genuine sentimentality not always heard in modern ballads. And though Watts downplayed his vocal chops, he delivered it convincingly.

Late in the set, an audience member goaded Watts to play a solo. It was surprising up to that point that he hadn't really taken one. Although his work throughout the set came with a lot of intense punctuation, flash was not the order of the evening. The emphasis was on Watts the composer and bandleader. One song, which I think was titled "Snarkasm" was inspired by snarky, sarcastic people. Watts warned, "it's jive" as he set up the song. And while the melody was strong, he was right about the intro and outro, in which he copped a snooty voice as he "sang" it. Maybe it was just a bit too silly, but the crowd loved it.

The evening's final pack of songs went from wild "Brain Lifter" to a rich ballad dedicated to Watts' late mother. As promised to the loud member of the audience, this section fulfilled the drum solo quota, and it got reverent in the final moments. The sold-out crowd went wild.

Friday Night - George Lewis

Trombonist/composer/music professor George Lewis actually spent this past week in Pittsburgh for a residency at the University of Pittsburgh. On Tuesday night, he spoke on a panel, Thursday night he lectured about his book on the AACM and Friday and Saturday nights were devoted to his compositions. I couldn't make Tuesday's night, recovering from the previous night's events, and on Thursday I opted for the Ches Smith et all show (see previous post for details; and check this out for my profile on George Lewis, Jack DeJohnette and Jeff "Tain" Watts).

Friday night, Lewis staged a performance of his composition Spooky Interaction, Lesson II (2016) at Pitt's Bellefield Hall. He and Geri Allen were to perform onstage there. In Irvine, California, flutist Nicole Mitchell and trombonist Michael Dessen were going to perform with them, through an internet hookup that Lewis referred to as "Skype on steroids." Saxophonist Francis Wong would also be part of the mix too, in San Francisco. As if that concept wasn't enough, two additional pianos were set up in Pittsburgh and Irvine. Both would be part of the performance, playing "themselves" courtesy of Lewis' Voyager interactive software which enables them to analyse what is being playing around them and use that knowledge to generate more music.

The West Coast participants were visible to us through a screen projected at the back of the stage. Everyone could hear each other clearly when they spoke beforehand. The only time things seemed out of sync was when the director of SF Jazz (where Wong was set up) spoke. The image didn't match up with the words.

Before it started, Lewis, who makes all of this work seem very accessible and engaging, told us to "listen for resonance and interaction...that you may be doing in your daily life as you muddle through." He was implying that improvisation is not merely something that is done onstage with instruments. It's a daily occurrence. When we spoke he talked about the upcoming Oxford Handbook of Critical Improvisation Studies, which will detail this at great length.

Without any genuine adieu, Lewis told Wong to start the performance on his own, and the trombonist left the stage. For about the next 40 minutes, the music came in waves, with each location taking roughly four minutes (the timing was explained afterwards) before passing it on to the next group. This was free improvisation, beginning calmly and moving in waves. Dessen and Mitchell entered with some high slides and guttural flutters, respectively.

When Lewis and Allen started playing, they offered some of the most exciting parts of the piece, not just because we were there in person. (The other locations came through loud and clear, incidentally.) Lewis later quipped that he looses his technique after ten minutes of playing, but when he was playing there was no weakness on display. He sounded extremely expressive, adding rapid vocal sounds in the upper register. It was the kind of tone that exudes authority. Allen was the same way. Sometimes she was pensive and lyrical, other times she was putting her elbows on the keys for punctuation, adding a Cecil Taylor-esque percussive quality.

The other pianos started playing about ten minutes into the piece. Visually, it looked like the Invisible Man was playing them. Keys were moving, sound was generating and it did work within the context of the piece. It seemed like it might be hard for the participants to hear each other clearly but they seemed to do fine. The secret might have been that no one ever got too loud. When all five of the live musicians started playing together, it was of course rather wild, but never too busy and crowded. After about 40 minutes, everything faded down. Lewis commented later that this was the first time that the piece was performed and everyone ended together.

I'm not sure how many seats Bellefield Hall has, but it was pretty full, in part probably because it was a free show. The audience was made up largely of students, who may or may not have been there as a requirement or for extra class credit. I have to wonder what they thought of the show because as soon as it was done, I mean after the final note and right as the participants were preparing for Q&A, there was a massive exodus toward the door.

Afterwards, I managed to tag along with Lewis and Allen to a sort of afterparty at the eatery the Porch, which was just down the street. Sitting next to him, I got to chat about the Yankees album he made with John Zorn and Derek Bailey (my introduction to him) and listen to him tell stories about his works. He was extremely down to earth, listening intently to everyone, and even stopping in front of the Carnegie Museum to take a picture of Dippy the Dinosaur (who was wearing a knit tie) for his son.

This Week in review: Kurt Vile, Ches Smith/Craig Taborn/Mat Maneri

I can't think of a week that was as jam-packed with music as the current week. It began on Monday night with Kurt Vile & the Violators who played a sold-out show at Mr. Small's (that's not them in the picture above). My old Pitt/WPTS friend Jesse Trbovich has been playing guitar, bass and saxophone with Kurt for several years and he helped me get a ticket after I waited too long to get one on my own. 

I don't really know a whole lot of Vile music but I really enjoyed the show. There was a lot of mid-tempo groove stuff going on, but the way they colored in the songs made all the difference. Jesse's alto got buried in the mix for the one song he played, but I could sort of feel it. 

After the set, I yelled out Jesse's name at the stage and he jumped off and came down to chat. I haven't seen that guy in over 15 years, no exaggeration. And despite being in a super-successful touring band, he's still one of the sweetest guys there is. Always has been. I miss that dude. But a lot of rock and a short chat really made my night.

Then on Thursday night, I saw the guys in the photo: Ches Smith (drums), Craig Taborn (electric piano) and Mat Maneri (viola) at the City of Asylum loft/space. (To read my preview of this group, go here.) This same space presented Mary Halvorson and Stephan Crump last April, but back then it was a very casual, intimate set-up. This time, they had a whole stage set up, with mikes and everything, and whole lot more chairs. Note: Those three orbs that look like they're hanging above Smith's head are actually lights further behind him. Though it would be cool if they were percussive bells.

The trio just released The Bell, an album on ECM and they also performed at Jazz Connect last month in New York. Their music is based largely on improvisation, though written themes very slowly creep in after they've had a chance to stretch out. That was really the case on Thursday. Snatches of themes from the album occasionally popped up, tying things together. Maneri or Taborn often came back to a riff or even just a series of notes, but most of the time, things were left to chance. Sometimes things had a pointillist quality to it, but there was always a lot of forward movement to the sound. You always knew that it was proceeding towards something. This was the penultimate date of the tour, so after a series of shows, the guys were really in tune with one other.

Smith had his vibes there, which he played with four mallets, occasionally bowed and played percussively by running a drum stick across the pipes, sometimes while sitting at the trap kit. Taborn normally plays acoustic piano with this group, but he used a Rhodes on this night since they couldn't get a piano up the spiral steps of the loft. It added greater dimension to the music, creating droplets of sound during one of the more gentle parts of the evening. Maneri amplifies his viola, adding some effects pedals to in, including one that drops the pitch down to bass level. A few times, it got so low I was wondering if it would shatter the amp's speaker.

During my interview with Smith, after the Jazz Connect set, he mentioned that he "always has bands that repeat things way too long." True to form, they repeated the final section of "For Days" a few times longer that it should have lasted. But sometimes it's hard to stop once you get a good thing going.

One other impressive part of the night, besides the music, was the turnout. The room was packed with what seemed like around 70 people. (I'm bad with figuring out numbers visually. It could have been more than that, or a tad less.) That might not sound huge for a show, but in that room it was, and on a Thursday night in Pittsburgh at a free jazz show - it's a rarity. And maybe a sign of good things to come, together with the equally populated Ethnic Heritage Ensemble show from the previous week.

Ben Goldberg's Invisible Trio, Ethnic Heritage Ensemble

It's been a couple weeks since the show, but I feel like I should mention the Ben Goldberg Invisible Guy Trio's appearance at the Thunderbird Cafe, which happened on Monday, Feb. 8. I missed this group the last time they came to town because I was playing with the Love Letters the same night, and hosting Matt Bauder's trio Hearing Things, one of the greatest examples of bad timing ever.

But that was then.

Goldberg is an amazing clarinetist. As in, you never realized that instrument had the potential to do this kind of heavy music before (unless you've followed the prolific Mr. G, or Perry Robinson or Don Byron, to name just a few). His trio mates were Michael Coleman (keyboards) and Hamir Atwal (drums). The sound was never spare and never ventured so far into the free dimension that it lost its sense of swing. That was probably due in part to Atwal, who had an ecstatic smile on his face through most of the set that I caught.

At the start of the second set, Goldberg was playing some loopy introductions that seemed kind of circular, and slowly settled into a form. It was a pleasant surprise when it became clear that they were playing "Light Blue," one of Thelonious Monk's deep cuts and a song that can very easily turn lugubrious. (Check out the composer's version on the Always Know album, which proves what it was initially passed over.) But these guys, Atwal mainly, made it swing.

It was hard at times to tell when one composition ended and the next started. One of the tunes was recently released on an album of duets that Goldberg did with pianist Myra Melford, and it seemed to take on a larger life than that version. Coleman had a couple different keyboards, adding an approximation of electric piano at times and parts that acted as bass lines too. It was a great show that, typically, was patronized by just a small but devoted group of listeners. The fact that it was a Monday night might have had something to do with it.

This past Saturday, however, the Undercroft Gallery at First Unitarian Church was filled with people there to see the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble. This time drummer Kahil El'Zabar was accompanied by Craig Harris (trombone, digeridoo) and Hamiet Bluiett (baritone saxophone, clarinet). (I profiled Bluiett in City Paper last week and it can be found here.) This was quite a pleasant surprise, not realizing that such a diverse crowd would come out for such an adventurous group. Perhaps the weekend date has something to do with it. The guy who put on the show said my article might have helped. I'll leave that to others to debate.

EHE's set followed a similar pattern to others they've done on previous visits. El'Zabar starts off on mbira (kalimba) playing a droning "riff" and tapping the bells on his ankles. Then a tune from the drum kit, then one with hand percussion. Second set followed the same pattern.

But within that set, there was magic. The first trap kit song was a woolly version of Wayne Shorter's "Footprints." Without the support of a bassist, the drums still seemed to create a droning "note" that acted as a pedal point. The second set's trap kit song was John Coltrane's "Impressions" which also held together without a rhythm section. For the final hand percussion tune, the group made a surprising choice of "Cherokee" that inimitable swing song that later became a bebop proving ground.

During my interview with Bluiett he talked about suffering from a stroke and injuries to his rotator cuff. He moved around slowly between songs and solos, but most of the time he sat on a piano bench in front of his baritone, which was perched on a stand. Yet when it was time to blow, he blew hard. His upper register work was as impeccable as ever. Like Ben Goldberg, he blew the B-flat clarinet with clarion force that probably surprised many.

Craig Harris put on a pretty muscular performance too, especially when he blew the didgeridoo. This wasn't your typical Australain didg either. It was a long piece of wood with holes in either end. Yet he blew a drone with gale force, taking time to throw in a solo too.

Both El'Zabar, that night, and Bluiett, on the phone a few weeks earlier, talked about being on a tour that was all about healing. It might sound flaky (or old) to say it, but the world could use a good deal more of that right now. And that night, their beliefs weren't merely idealistic words, they became reality.