Album review

NOMO is a band that's been on my radar for some time. I've seen them live on several occasions, and they always put on an energetic, inspired performance. Most notably, I saw them play the 2005 Chicago World Music Festival with special guests Fred Anderson and Nicole Mitchell, forging a transcebdant alliance of funk and AACM inspired improvisation.

While I enjoyed both of their first two albums (a close look at their discography reveals that two of their albums have overlapping content, one as a 12" re-release), Ghost Rock fulfills the promise of their live show and points to new directions for the band's creative vision.

While afro-beat always factored heavily in the band's sound and aesthetic in the past, Ghost Rock presents music that has a wider range of influence. While the rhythmically propulsive grooves of afro-beat remain, this record isn't as easily pinned down as a star in the Fela Kuti constellation, and it works to their advantage.

The electronic likembe excursions of Konono No. 1 factor as heavily into the album's sound as any other readily identifiable predecessor, with Eliot Bergman's electric mbira and kalimba providing a lot of sonic and rhythmic contrast throughout.  While there are certainly notable roots to their music, this is the first album NOMO has released that to my ears also points forward and really sounds like a modern, forward looking recording.

In a recent interview, Bergman explained: "Warn [Defever] and I have built over a hundred mbira-like instruments in the past few years, and some of those end up on the record...[which] uses even more of these homemade instruments. We also have constructed a bunch of metallic percussion objects, that we then amplify, such as the electric saw-blade gamelan."

In addition to the core lineup of Elliot Bergman, Dan Bennett, Ingrid Racine, Justin Walter, Erik Hall, Jamie Register, Dan Piccolo and Quin Kirchner, the band is joined on various tracks by Hamid Drake, Adam Rudolph, Josh Abrams, Jason Murdy, Joey Dosik, Chilali Hugo, and Warn Defever, who also produced the record.

Ghost Rock has a pronounced arc of intensity and vision, building, cresting, and returning to its equilibrium by album's end. In its flow and sound it really feels like a unified album, with a great sense of continuity. Highlight tracks for me include the psychedelic opening excursion Brainwave, the miles deep groove of Rings that features three of the all star guests on the album, Hamid Drake, Adam Rudolph, and Josh Abrams, and the positively infectious funk of Last Beat.

A great album from a great band. With the release of Ghost Rock and I can truly say that I'm excited to see what the future holds for NOMO.

You can check out some tracks from the new disc on their MySpace page, and be sure to check their tourdates as they are in the midst of a national tour in support of the new album.

Every once in a while an album comes along that so thoroughly satiates my musical interests and desires at that given period of my life that I develop a special connection to the album and its music. It's a symbiotic relationship where the album doesn't just define a season of listening, but my life also seems to lend the musical contents particular meaning and context.

Party Intellectuals has been that kind of album for me over the course of the last few months. Its ebullient, irreverent spirit is refreshing and liberating, and I haven't heard a modern album that embodies the ethos of rock and/or roll so well in ages.

I always knew that Marc Ribot was an incredibly talented musician through his wide array of musical activities, but when I first put on this album with no preconception of what kind of record it was, I was pleasantly surprised to say the least.

First, the basics: a classic power trio format consisting of Marc Ribot, bassist Shahzad Ismaily, and drummer Ches Smith. In addition to playing guitar, Ribot is featured as a highly effective vocalist. A mix of vocal and instrumental tracks, loud rock and roll, noise, punk-funk, and spacious ambient explorations. Ribot's lyrics are sharp, funny, and poignant, and his delivery as a vocalist fit the aesthetic and feel of the writing even if his voice isn't necessarily the strongest.

I don't want to belabor any predecessors or comparisons, but think Mr. Bungle and Last Exit's illegitimate bastard love child, raised by wolves. Really culturally refined wolves with exquisite taste in music.

The production and mix on the album is fantastic, and they achieved the huge drum and guitar sound necessary to make this brand of music really work.

Another great release from Pi Recordings, a label whose track record continues to impress me. They've cultivated a level of trust in their activities that I would not hesitate to purchase any album in their catalog.

A great summer album: fun, blasphemous, occasionally indulgent, and most of all, it rocks.

Vijay Iyer’s Tragicomic opens with an invocation entitled The Weight of Things, an evocative title and opening to the album to my mind and ears. There’s a series of titles about things amongst musicians I admire:  Evidence of Things Unseen by Don Pullen, The Flow of Things by Roscoe Mitchell, Things to Come From Those Now Gone by Muhal Richard Abrams, to name a few. Maybe I’m reading too much into these things, but I see a connected interest in the ineffable amongst all these artists, and a similar view of expressing these things through music.

Now that I’ve already gone and described the opening track as evocative, I’ll go ahead and apply the label to the whole album. Isn’t all good music evocative in some sense? Perhaps, but this music falls into a category of evocation that I deem particularly noteworthy.  Tragicomic finds Vijay Iyer splitting time between his established quartet and a more stripped down setting of the trio, and there is even one track treating the listener to a solo piano excursion that is so enjoyable that I hope Vijay will consider recording an album of solo piano at some point. 

I did something with Tragicomic that I like to do if I’m afforded the luxury of time - listen to the artist’s recordings leading up to the newest (this is just his music under his own name as a leader, not including collaborative efforts such as Fieldwork). Following the progression of Mr. Iyer’s work throughout his career, I am definitely hearing a honing of process and compositional voice. It’s difficult to describe, but amounts to an identifying of some kind of essential string of musical voice that you can easily hear throughout that becomes more prominent in improvisations and composition as time goes on.

There is an aesthetic in Vijay Iyer’s music that I’d described as eclectic unity, the incorporation of seemingly disparate elements rhythmically, melodically or harmonically that make sense in the context of the whole. We hear hints of reggae in Comin’ Up both in feel and in a subtle delay (a production technique that recurs a few times on the album with great success to my ears) on the snare drum at a dub like break, a confident sense of swing in his solo piano excursion, and a whole lot more that isn’t easily labeled. 

An accepted fact to my ears when listening to and parsing Vijay Iyer’s music is that rhythm is always a centrally propulsive element in the music.  Propulsive not always in the sense of frenetic or pushed, but more in a sense of centrality in its role in the music as a whole. Even in Mehndi, the brooding meditative piece that places the listener awash in the ceremonial dye of its namesake, the rhythmic feel and pulse is very precise and most of all purposeful. In this realm of rhythmic prowess, no genre is off limits, and new genres are formed through rhythmic alchemy.

Tragicomic is a great album. Vijay Iyer has continued to hone his musical vision and it is fully formed on this release. To speculate a bit, I hear a point of inflection with this album that I think is going to lead to new and different things in future releases with this or other bands. The concept and vision is there and now the question is what will he do with it next?

This essay is offered as a replacement for a review of Bill Dixon's new release, 17 Musicians in Search of a Sound: Darfur (In Concert at Vision Festival XII) - entirely inspired by the music contained therein and in that sense a tribute to the potency of its contents.

What is the quality of music that distinguishes the revolutionary from the mundane, the seeking from the sought, the cherished from the discarded? Music can serve many functions (and I am adamant in my belief that music is a highly functional art), but in this continuum of music we might call jazz, or in the history of African American creative music that people of all colors, shapes and sizes have participated in and drawn from, what is the quality that musicians who stand out from the pack cultivate?

To my ears and personal experience, there is an element of sincerity of approach and vision, a seriousness in purpose and path that translates into a pure expression of a personal music. The element of individuality is one of the qualities as well, correct? An outward manifestation of an inner understanding or quest for understanding, what George Lewis has termed an Afrological approach to music, where the musician is searching for a sound and personal voice both as a composer and as an instrumentalist (the two are inseparably intertwined).

This is as opposed to a Eurological approach to organizing sound as a composer to be faithfully reproduced in accordance with the original vision of the composer, where the individual instrumental voice is subsumed by the compositional voice.

We can see in the Afrological model that there is a potential to enhance and expand the concept of the latter, where the individual voice is empowered within the context of a compositional structure to enhance and expose supra-musical elements, and indeed is encouraged to do so. It requires not only following a pre-conceived musical score, but also understanding the sound the composer is searching for. To achieve that goal, the musicians must listen and react in addition to following structural concerns.

This idea of searching for a sound, a whole sound that we can hear from its development to its completion, is markedly different than a notion of constructing harmonic and melodic composition, but certainly does not exclude it. Both of them work toward goals and reward the forest view of music, how the trees compose the whole, how the tension contrasts with the release. The former is decidedly more exploratory, and the goal is oftentimes more elusive. There isn’t a conclusive map that will lead to the sound, although as with any unknown territory, the more a musician searches and finds, the easier it will be to map and return.

This brings us back to the original question proposed at the beginning of this piece – that the process of searching for a sound, both as an individual musician, or as a composer, is an ongoing process that leads to the creation of a certain type of music palpably, viscerally distinguishable from music that does not. Bill Dixon is nothing short of a master when it comes to this concept of sound, and at his age and stature is unique in his ability to offer us an incredibly refined vision of this different approach to sound and music.

You can read more about the event itself at Stephen Haynes' blog and at SpiderMonkey Stories.

I heard this music once before, in its Chicago debut at the Chicago Cultural Center. I left the performance in a musically altered state, having been transfixed and transported by Nicole Mitchell’s tribute to Octavia Butler, entitled Xenogenesis Suite. The music was expansive, evocative, and perhaps most of all to my ears, a departure from her earlier work stylistically. While it retained her signature flute playing, the compositions were radically different from anything else I had heard from Nicole Mitchell.

So it was with eager anticipation that I awaited the arrival of this album, as I was curious how the power of the live performance of the music would translate to the recorded medium. Having listened to it a dozen plus times since it arrived, I can say with confidence that it makes the transition beautifully, retaining its connotative power.

One of the highest compliments I can pay to this recording is that I always listen to it from beginning to end, and that I don’t really distinguish between separate tracks. It really is a suite in the sense of a continuous flow of feeling and atmosphere that pervades the album. It’s a testament both to Nicole Mitchell’s vision, as well as to her able band’s execution. This is a real, working band, and it shows.

So what does the music sound like? My best description would be otherworldly – there are rhythmically propulsive trance inducing ostinati, glossolalic vocal slurs and murmurs, a strong sense of ensemble and a lack of solos, space imparted by contrasting uses of musical density and silence, and intense dynamic changes. It’s cinematically evocative, and as such extremely effective in creating a musical version of the science fiction fantasy inspired by the work of Octavia Butler.

I think the next step for me is to read Octavia Butler so I can put the music in perspective with its inspired text. I'm looking forward to coming back to the album after I've done so.

Cryptogramophone, the venerable west coast based label is turning 10 and is celebrating in style. As well they should — 10 years in independent niche jazz label land is equal to at least 40 years in any other business, utilizing math akin to calculating dog years.

First, they've released a 2 CD/1DVD retrospective, Assemblage 1998-2008, with the CDs covering their considerable catalog and the DVD adding some priceless footage of some of their artists. While the CDs do an excellent job of picking some notable points of their catalog, the DVD provides some previously unseen footage of Nels Cline's Andrew Hill project rehearsing and performing, and of Bennie Maupin playing with his Polish band.

The Cline footage includes over an hour of interviews, footage of the recording session, and a live performance of the band. Bennie Maupin is presented live in Poland playing music with his band to an appreciative audience.

To put the icing on the proverbial cake, Cryptogramophone is taking over the Jazz Standard starting Wednesday, April 23rd and continuing through Sunday the 27th. So all New Yorkers should stop by, catch a few sets, eat some cake, and bring some presents, because 10 years in the jazz record business is worth celebrating.

Wednesday April 23:
7:30 PM- The Jeff Gauthier Goatette
Jeff Gauthier - vln, Nels Cline - gtr, David Witham - pno, Joel Hamilton - bs, Alex Cline - drms
9:30 PM- Nels Cline & Alex Cline Duo
Nels Cline - guitars, Alex Cline - drums, percussion

Thursday April 24:
7:30 & 9:30 PM – The Nels Cline Singers
Nels Cline - guitars, Devin Hoff - bass, Scott Amendola - drums, effects

Friday April 25:
7:30 PM – Scott Amendola Band
Jenny Scheinman - vln, Nels Cline - gtr, Scott Amendola - drms, effects, Special Guest - gtr, bs
9:30 PM & 11:30 PM– The Nels Cline Singers
Nels Cline - guitars, Devin Hoff - bass, Scott Amendola - drums, effects

Saturday April 26
7:30 PM– Myra Melford/Ben Goldberg Quartet
Ben Goldberg - clarinets, Myra Melford - pno, Stomu Takeishi - bs, Scott Amendola - drms
9:30 & 11:30 PM – The Bennie Maupin Ensemble
Bennie Maupin - woodwinds, Michal Tokaj - pno, Darek Oles - bs, Munyungo Jackson - perc, Michael Stephans - drms, Hania Rybka - vcl

Sunday April 27
7:30 & 9:30 PM – The Bennie Maupin Ensemble
Bennie Maupin - woodwinds, Michal Tokaj - pno, Darek Oles - bs, Munyungo Jackson - perc, Michael Stephans - drms, Hania Rybka - vcl

Progress in music requires progress in our methodologies in writing about music. Certain vocabularies and methods of comparison that were adequate for writing about jazz in the past are no longer efficacious, or desirable.

For one thing, the notion of linear progress and progression in so-called jazz music has been a myth for some time now, as long as 50 plus years depending on who you ask. As the field of influence for improvising musicians continued to widen over time, it made less and less sense to insist upon clear lineages and predecessors. All of this is worth mentioning as an introduction to a review of Fieldwork's new album Door, because the music doesn't fit neatly into any preconceived box or precedent, so we have to approach it with a right understanding of methodology in order to convey at least some of its essence.

Fieldwork has had more than one lineup, but as of this writing, the lineup is Vijay Iyer, Steve Lehman, and Tyshawn Sorey. The previous two albums have only Vijay Iyer in common, and the previous release has both Lehman and Iyer - to my ears and understanding, Sorey is a natural progression and fit for the band and its concept, and I hope this lineup stays intact for future efforts. Door's street date is April 22nd, the same day as Vijay Iyer's new quartet record, Tragicomic, and Fieldwork is scheduled to play an album release show at Joe's Pub on May 31st.

Door is a truly collaborative effort, with each musician contributing compositions: six by Tyshawn Sorey, three by Vijay Iyer and two by Steve Lehman. The group feel is emphasized no matter the composer, with each musician sharing rhythmic and melodic duties and layered interplay that defies the basic traditional roles if each member's instrument. Sorey and Iyer have a particularly strong rhythmic connection and rapport throughout, with some incredibly tight and telepathic improvisatory passages. As I've come to expect from a certain group of musicians, the line between improvisation and composition is blurred throughout Door, reflecting a strong affinity with processual predecessors in the AACM and elsewhere.

It's interesting to note that given the change in lineups for all three of Fieldwork's albums, this recording sounds like a logical continuation of the band's ethos from the past two records. Sorey leaves a distinct mark on the album, both compositionally and with his incredible musicianship. Given Sorey's take-no-prisoners chops and abilities to tackle any rhythm or polyrhythm, his own compositions downplay his own instrumental abilities in favor of examining permutations of themes, and a more minimalist angle than both Iyer and Lehman's writing. Sorey lays down some positively sinister beats and fills throughout the album, summoning John Bonham as often as any other easily identifiable influence. Although I haven't heard it myself, I'm told that the writing here is consistent with what Sorey did on his first solo album That/Not, a record that I really need to pick up after hearing his compositions on Door.

I'll tell you what Fieldwork is not: it's not your grandpa's jazz, it's not free improvisation, it's not a postmodern hodgepodge or pastiche, and it's not light listening. It's much more difficult to say what exactly it is. It certainly reflects the unique musicality of the three participants, and the singular alchemy that occurs when the three of them come together. There is no shortage of risks taken, and the music reflects this with occasionally thrilling results. The end product is diverse but coherent, varied but focused. It certainly sounds like the vanguard of the music that I pay attention to, and as such it should come as no surprise that it's on Pi Recordings, a label that continues to put out the most consistently interesting music of any label I can think of.

This is very challenging music - it's an album that in my multiple listens required undivided attention to get a feel for what was going on musically. If that kind of affair is your bag, then you will find Door a highly rewarding collection of music.

Bennie Maupin!

The name strikes fear in the hearts of those who knew him as a foil to Miles Davis on Bitches Brew and On The Corner, a companion to Herbie Hancock throughout the 1970s, and as a powerful musician wielding a mighty bass clarinet in addition to flute and other reeds. You might not have his 1974 release as a leader, Jewel In The Lotus, but when you hear the name Bennie Maupin it conjures aural imagery of digging deep in a funk riff, freaking out over synthesized keyboards and electrifying drum grooves.

If you did hear his 1974 release, you might have realized that while Bennie Maupin certainly could play that dirty electrifying funk, it wasn't necessarily the vibe of his own music. Jewel In The Lotus reflected a different aesthetic, and Maupin obviously had his own sense of direction and purpose in his music (incidentally, Jewel In The Lotus finally made it to CD). If you need more convincing, with their usual vision and foresight Destination: Out was on the scene before the CD reissue to tell you why Jewel In The Lotus is a gem.

After a lengthy hiatus from recording as a leader, Bennie Maupin rose from the ashes to record Driving While Black in 1998, and then 8 years later in 2006 recorded a fantastic album for Cryptogramophone, Penumbra.  Only two years later, a quick turnaround in the context of Maupin's career as a leader, we now have Early Reflections, an album featuring Maupin and a trio of Polish musicians. It's a very different affair than Penumbra was, but equally rewarding to my ears.

The title and cover art of the album are appropriate: this is early morning music, reflective, contemplative, shaking off sleep and greeting the sun music. That's not to say that it doesn't reach energetic musical heights, but it takes its time getting there, with the patience of sunrise. Maupin is joined by three Polish musicians who have been his touring ensemble for the past two years, all young players who he met while doing some of his own studies in Poland.

Early Reflections is a striking album - carefully composed, no wasted notes or excess, sensitive dynamics and a clear musical vision. It achieves all of this without becoming wallpaper music, dinner music, or coffee shop music. It's far more stirring and purposeful than the album Maupin's old comrade Herbie Hancock recently won a Grammy for. It is what it is, to spin a tautological truism, and it is a largely meditative affair with some flourishes and flairs that provide the necessary contrast to make it all worthwhile. Maupin squeezes every ounce out of the CD format, packing in 76 minutes of music that alters the space time continuum in the way only good music can.

This album is being released on 4/22 at the same time as a 10 year retrospective CD/DVD for the Cryptogramophone label, complete with a celebratory stand at the Jazz Standard in New York - more on that later.

Jesse Stacken, a pianist based in New York, has released a really interesting and enjoyable album entitled "That That," joined by Eivind Opsvik on bass and Jeff Davis on drums. Going in with no background on any of the musicians on the album, I was interested to hear what they had to offer. I get a lot of promos these days for a number of reasons, and I set the bar higher for reviewing randoms than I do music I'm familiar with.

One of the first things that struck me in listening to the album was the focused brevity of the tracks. The recorded medium used to provide mandatory constraints on the length of compositions and improvisations recorded in early jazz. By the time we get to the LP that has become less of a concern, and in the age of the CD we have Pat Metheny releasing The Way Up, a bloated 68 minute composition that seems to fill up space just because it can.

There's something to be said for restraint and constraints, and the impact that kind of focus has on musicians who are given a certain amount of time to put in their two cents. I'm all for coloring outside the lines, but it's not always what's called for by the music and the players, and the focus on this album is not only refreshing but is also works.

There's a great balance of improvised pieces and compositions on the album, and the improvisation that opens the affair was one of the things that drew me into the listening experience. The trio has tuned their rapport and achieve powerful states of improvisational flow as a result. I'm not sure if it's the length of the tracks or the way they flow together, but the whole listening experience goes by quickly and seamlessly.

Overall, a really impressive album from a musician who I was not familiar with but will certainly look out for in the future.

I guess it should come as no surprise.

Miguel Zenon (apologies for the lack of diacriticals), the New York based Puerto Rican born musician and recent recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship has just released a fantastic new album: Awake. As a listener I had primarily known Miguel for his musicianship, rather than his skills as a composer, seeing him as a sideman a number of times. I knew he wielded a mighty saxophone but apparently his use of the pen and staff paper is just as skilled.

Not being sure what to expect, I was surprised and pleased to hear intricately composed chamber music, kinetic fender rhodes fueled small group improvisations, and intense rhythmic interplay throughout.

He retains the core of his previous ensemble in Luis Perdomo on piano and rhodes, and Hans Glawischnig on bass — gone from his previous effort is Antonio Sanchez, here replaced by Henry Cole, who keeps good musical company and also plays with David Sanchez. The band achieves the kind of constant motion and interplay I've noted in Dafnis Prieto's ensembles, but retains its own unique approach and voice in that context.

Zenon is his typically nimble self on his horn, bringing his bag of saxophone pyrotechnics to the forefront while maintaining remarkable warmth and sense of direction throughout. I wasn't sure if the flow of the album worked on my first couple of listens, but now I'm quite sure it does. The chamber string track opens the album, a group improvisation provides a mid-album interlude, and Zenon playing solo a capella closes the affair, providing a nice symmetry and intriguing progression. The middle interlude features guest horns, with Tony Malaby, Ben Gerstein, and Michael Rodriguez stepping on for duty, providing foils for the free improvisation. Zenon's solo saxophone closes the disc, and after hearing the track I'd love to hear Zenon play in more stripped down settings, like a duo with a drummer or a trio with no chordal instrument.

Awake will certainly make me go back through Zenon's existing catalog to hear what he's done to this point. The band is tightly tuned, handles like a BMW, a stick shift with no cruise control.  If my past experience with Zenon is any indicator, I'd imagine this music to be even more potent in a live setting so I hope I get to see them in action.

What does it mean to refer to music as "cinematic"? That it is evocative, mood setting, and apropos of a complimentary relationship with visual imagery? Or that in some way it provokes mental imagery, creating the cinematic scene without concrete visual aid? I would make both the former and latter assertions in listening to Adam Rudolph's Moving Pictures release Dream Garden, with both the band name and album titles encouraging this line of thought. 

What does it mean to refer to music as belonging to some concept of "world music"? That it signifies the other through use of exotic instruments and foreign timbres? World music seems to simultaneously refer to any music made by the other, as well as incorporation of the musical other into our own musical processes. Are timbres or rhythms the sole property of any culture? Is there anything that isn't world music in this age of post-modern pastiche and tapestry musical collages?

Moving Pictures is an ensemble that certainly embraces the world of music through its use of varied instrumentation, rhythms, and timbral palette, but I'm not sure what would be gained by calling it world music. It simultaneously asserts the individual voice of jazz through the art of the solo, the egalitarian ideal of free jazz through collective interplay and improvisation, as well as the emphasis on the composer's primacy in the process of music creation. It is certainly worldly music, well traveled and versed in several foreign languages, but the end result is less a patchwork quilt and more a coherent whole.

Adam Rudolph's music embraces a wide tonal and timbral palette to create cinematic, evocative music. No musician plays just one instrument on the album. In addition to his own arsenal of hand percussion instruments, he adds fellow percussionists and Hu Vibrationalists Brahim Frigbane and Hamid Drake to the rhythm team. Graham Haynes plays cornet, flugelhorn, and slide whistle, Kenney Wessel plays both electric and acoustic guitars (different instruments entirely, trust me on this), Ned Rothenberg plays shakuhachi, bass clarinet, bass flute, C flute, and alto sax, Shanir Blumenkrantz (say that ten times fast) plays acoustic bass and sintir, and Steve Gorn plays the bansuri bamboo flutes (yes, plural), clarinet, Indian penny whistles, and the Pakistani oboe, which I'm told is more prone to political instability than its more tame, European oboe counterpart.

Quite a palette indeed. I see this as not only an expression of a "world music" aesthetic, but also a logical outgrowth of Rudolph's Chicago roots, coming out of the AACM multi-instrumental ethic, which approached this very issue of musical range very seriously.

The resulting music is rhythmically vibrant and animated. Who would expect less knowing the rhythmic brotherhood that exists amongst Rudolph, Drake, and Frigbane? Anyone who has heard the Hu Vibrational records (you have, right?) knows that they possess an impeccable sense of the deepest groove. This music moves at all costs and at any tempo tackled. Even the more meditative pieces retain a heart-beat pulse.

It's also exquisitely composed. There is always a sense of underlying composition, with interesting backgrounds during solos and consciously asserted contours. There is plenty of improvisation throughout, but it always take place within a carefully constructed musical scene (cinema).

In addition, it's joyful and fun to listen to. All in all, a great release from Adam Rudolph and Justin Time records.

Although Big Picture is the first release from Trio M, the collective piano trio featuring Myra Melford, Mark Dresser and Matt Wilson, it evinces a mature musical discourse and rapport that one would expect to find in groups with a longer history. This shouldn't come as a surprise given the talents and histories of its individual participants; indeed, three mid-career (in the jazz world anyway) musicians with sensitive improvisational talents such as Ms. Melford, Mr. Dresser and Mr. Wilson should be held to high standards of musical output. The music contained in Big Picture covers a lot of ground - it's at true collective in the sense that all three receive writing credits on the album, but the reason the album works musically is that there is a cohesive quality to their playing and interaction that binds the diverse compositions together into a coherent whole.

The egalitarian piano trio is nothing new to improvised music, but in any individual instance it's interesting to hear how issues of time, rhythm and harmony are handled by the participants. In this case there seems to be a very fluid sense of roles amongst the three musicians, with each of them fulfilling more traditional capacities at times and then quickly changing places.

Compositionally, I find Mark Dresser's tunes the most interesting, which is interesting because he's the musician I'm the least familiar with on this record. I have a few of Myra Melford's records as a leader, and I don't think you can swing a stick in a jazz record store and not hit a recording with Matt Wilson on it. I hadn't heard anything of Mark Dresser's as a leader, and I'd only heard his playing with Anthony Braxton - this record is enough to pique my interest in seeking out some of his own records (if anyone has a suggestion, please let me know in the comments).  Amongst the other tracks, Myra Melford's "Secrets to Tell You" is perhaps the most stunning.

I was interested to read three reviews of this band live from their recent tour (what a wealth of documentation blogging gives us!) - their impressions reflect the sense I get from the recording, which is three musicians who found a collective aesthetic that works for them. Pat noted that he expected a bigger sound given some of the participants, but the dynamic range seems to work for them in this setting. This shouldn't be confused for compromise - rather, I hear three musicians committed to a collectivity that works. I wish I could have seen the tour in person, but on national jazz tours Chicago is a tough stop to make geographically - more often than not we get a wave from an airplane as the musicians fly from coast to coast overhead.

If you have any misgivings about this trio due to any taste about the individual players contained within, put them aside. This music works, and if we accept as a basic premise of improvisation the goal of communication, then Big Picture is nothing short of a resounding success.

When I heard about the lineup for this album, I was already intrigued. Featuring Steve Lehman on alto sax, Jonathan Finlayson on trumpet, Chris Dingman on vibraphone, Drew Gress on bass, and Tyshawn Sorey on drums, it appeared to be a collection of ambitious young players with emerging reputations and already developing unique voices on their respective instruments.

Some I was more familiar with than others - Steve Lehman's reputation preceded him as both a scholar and a musician, as I was familiar with his scholarly writing and with his playing in Fieldwork as well as on a Liberty Ellman recording. I was also familiar with Drew Gress in a variety of settings. I had heard wonderful things about Mr. Finlayson's trumpet playing, and similar endorsements of Tyshawn Sorey's drumming. Chris Dingman was new to me, but as I have mentioned before, I'm a sucker for the vibraphone so I welcomed his presence.

Provocatively titled On Meaning, the music comes across as kinetic, complex, and dense (Mr. Lehman's publishing company is aptly titled Density Music) while retaining a buoyancy and openness that contradicts the typical associations with music described as complex or dense.

It's a quality that I've noticed more often in music I've been listening to - I'm not sure if it's my own listening habits or perception changing, because in the past I would have described myself as someone who didn't particularly enjoy music that I would have tended to describe as complex or dense, at least compositionally. I think I shied away from music that I felt was overly flashy in terms of chops, a belief that musicality was being sacrificed for technicality.

None of these concerns cross my mind listening to this recording, which avoids all of these pitfalls by remaining utterly musical to my ears. Part of this has to do with the masterful mixing and mastering, which I see was done by Liberty Ellman, which affords each instrument its own sonic space. The other part has to do with the obvious interaction and sensitivity with which each of the musicians displays throughout the proceedings.

There are obvious precedents to Mr. Lehman's own playing and compositional style, none of which are worth mentioning because he ends up in unique territory.

All of the musicians that I looked forward to hearing on this recording are fantastic. Tyshawn Sorey is revelatory on the drums and I'm looking forward to picking up his new record on Firehouse 12. He shows an awareness of not only jazz, but also more modern rhythmic patterns found in drum and bass music, which he incorporates tastefully and with a powerful propelling effect. Chris Dingman is fantastic throughout, providing incredible support as well as producing some great solo passages. Finlayson proves himself to be an agile player with really beautiful tone, especially on Check This Out and the title track On Meaning.

There's a cohesiveness to the sound and feel of the 8 tracks on the album that lends itself to a sustained listening experience. It's the kind of album that will make me go back and listen to Steve Lehman's previous albums so I can trace the progression and see how he got to this place musically. It's also worth mentioning that this is yet another stellar recording from Pi Recordings, a label that I'm now developing a trusting relationship with. I haven't picked up a bad Pi release yet, and this recording only furthered my sense that they put out quality music.

A great recording from a great band - I wish I could see them live in the near future. Maybe someday.

I was not familiar with Rob Wagner's playing before hearing this album, his third release on Valid Records, which was recorded in 2005 in New Orleans, months after Hurricane Katrina devastated the region. According to the liner notes the album was originally scheduled to be recorded in September of that year, which did not happen for obvious reasons. It has been in my listening rotation since the end of the summer, but I'm just getting around to writing about it now for a variety of reasons. Sometimes words don't present themselves readily or eloquently when writing about a recording, but my repeated listens alone are an endorsement of the quality of playing that exists here.

Featuring Rob Wagner on clarinet, tenor and soprano saxophones, NObu Ozaki on bass, and Hamid Drake on drum kit and frame drum and eponymously titled, Rob Wagner Trio is filled with provocative titles such as "Deoparia (They handed out $12 billion cash in Iraq and couldn't even give New Orleans drinking water)" and "Freedumb (Aren't you glad to vote in America?)". I'm an unabashed fan of Hamid Drake's drumming which is in typically ebullient form here, and Nobu Ozaki's bass seems right at home in Drake's ample rhythmic pocket. Wagner is a revelation on his various reed instruments, with a unique voice that is amplified by his strong writing that showcases his playing well. His past in groups like the New Orleans Klezmer All-Stars is apparent in his melodic sense, and his New Orleans rhythmic sense is always present in his playing. Together they create some great trio interplay

The mournful Plutino is a highlight to my ears, capturing the mood of a city destroyed and a return to the scene of the ongoing crime perpetrated on its residents by the federal and local governments. Where Is Home finds Hamid Drake on his frame drum, and Rob Wagner picking up the New Orleans signifying clarinet. The low points of the recording are when Wagner plays tenor, where he doesn't seem to have as strong a voice as on the soprano and clarinet. It is undoubtedly an unfair comparison, but when I hear a tenor player in trio with Hamid Drake on drums, images of Fred Anderson and Kidd Jordan come to mind, and to my ears Wagner doesn't take advantage of the range of expression that the tenor could afford him in this context. His playing is fine, but if I hear someone pick up a different instrument on different songs, I want to believe that it's for a reason.

There's an introspective mood that pervades the recording, with a tendency to move within a certain dynamic range and tempo rather than burn at an incendiary pace. It's a quality that I value in music when done well and this recording certainly fits that bill. When I listen, I hear a sense of sensitivity within a well conceived structure that lends plenty of opportunity for improvisation as well as composition. Hamid Drake is open-eared and rhythmically embracing as ever, and the connection between his playing and Wagner's is particularly strong.

You can buy it here.

There's something universally recognizable about an opening invocation. Centering around a drone note, a sense of warming up, tuning, intoning; all signs point to a beginning. Melody is emergent and seems to sprout organically from the primordial stew of sound. There's a beautiful mix of timbres and rhythms, with a relaxed intensity to the groove and the focus revolves around the orbit of the singular drone. The album is called Two Rivers, referring to the historic tributaries of the Tigris and Euphrates, and the land that lies between.

It could be considered politically relevant to make an album that combines the form and instruments of traditional Iraqi Maqam with the improvised spirit and instrumentation of a jazz combo. I use the word "could," because apart from the relevance of this meeting of musical traditions in today's world, there is a beautiful recording here with music that is pertinent and worthwhile listening.

However, to ignore the state of the world surrounding music is to perpetrate a great injustice to the relevance and agency of music to reflect, to create Utopian musical spaces where barriers are broken down, and to bring to the forefront underlying beauty that otherwise might be lost amongst violence and destruction.

There's a patience in the proceedings here that I find extremely rewarding as a listener. Tension is built and brought to peaks, but it is never in a hurry to do so, and the slope happens so subtly and gradually that it's easy to forget it's  going somewhere until it has arrived. Amir ElSaffar's trumpet playing is fantastic throughout, utilizing scales and timbres that are certainly referential to the musical heritage of Iraqi Maqam while also incorporating the language and phrasing of jazz.

Santoor, oud, doumbek, buzuq, frame drum.

Trumpet, alto sax, bass, drums, violin.

A meeting of musics. Can musics meet? What happens when they do? Do they shake hands, retain separate identities and commingle? Or do they do dirty things like fuse into a fusion? There, I said it. Let's be honest though, fusion is only dirty if jazz is fusing with profane musics like rock and roll or pop music. If it fuses with folk musics from around the world or other art music, that's perfectly acceptable. Right? Musics meet in individuals whose identities are able to span continents. It's interesting to note that the shifting of intervallic preference and timbre can lead to denotation of musical culture and locality.

Don Cherry once said: "When people believe in boundaries, they become part of them."

Amir ElSaffar, Rudresh Mahanthappa, Dafer Tawil, Tareq Abboushi, Carlo DeRosa, Nasheet Waits. It really sounds like a band, great chemistry and interplay, and everyone plays with bravado and gusto.

What good is a word like jazz if it can't let music like this into the shade of its stylistic tree? If it can't give shelter from the storm under its genre umbrella? In the liner notes, ElSaffar talks about similarities between the heterophony native to maqam music and Cecil Taylor's music. Cecil Taylor! Maqam! Heterophony! There's something going on there, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

Have I mentioned that this music is hip? Because it most certainly is. Khosh Reng features a groove in 17/8 that cries out to be danced to, joyously. Blood and Ink begins with a poem that is moving without knowing anything about its translation.

All in all, this is a great album from Mr. ElSaffar and his band. and comes highly recommended. It's an album of music that spans borders, incorporates seemingly disparate elements that end up comfortable bedfellows, and comes out with an end product that doesn't feel forced in bringing it all together. The feat of apparent effortlessness is a cherished quality in the music I enjoy, and this fits the bill.

If this sounds appealing, you can find out more here. You can also buy the record directly from Pi Recordings on that page.

Divided up into to two distinct but related programs of music, The All Seeing Eye + Octets finds percussionist, composer, and fellow blogger Harris Eisenstadt tackling two bodies of music: the first 5 tracks are septet arrangements and interpretations of Wayne Shorter's 1965 album The All Seeing Eye, and the final 6 tracks are octets, augmented by a conductor and penned by Mr. Eisenstadt himself.

I've been listening to the album for a few weeks now, and before I wrote about it I had to go back and listen to the original Wayne Shorter album so I could hear how Harris has interpreted Wayne Shorter's music. First, the instrumentation: the numbers have basically remained the same, with Wayne Shorter leading a septet through most of his disc, with his brother Alan Shorter making it an octet on the last track. The instruments and timbers have changed however, with Eisenstadt employing a vibraphone, two clarinet/bass clarinetists, trumpet, bassoon, bass, and drums. It's certainly a reedy sound, with the bassoon and two clarinetists, and the vibraphone, an instrument I am particularly fond of, adds an important sound to the mix. The lineups of Shorter and Eisenstadt have in common an absence of a traditional chordal instrument like piano or guitar, and although the vibraphone could fill that role, it doesn't tend to do so in the arrangements. I find the result to be sonically different in ways that are complimentary to the original; he's taken a different palette to paint the a similar picture, the old forms recognizable but transformed in the new product.

The All Seeing Eye portion of the program has a remarkable flow and continuity between tracks. There's a mood that pervades the proceedings that I'd rather not attribute to any specific emotion or association, but there is definitely a thread that binds it all together. Part of it is the mix and production which is very consistent throughout, bringing the winds up front and keeping the drums more distant, lending some depth to the sound. I think the other part of it has to do with the sound of the arrangements that Eisenstadt has created; it's clear that he had a very specific sound in mind for this ensemble and project. I find the end result to be complimentary to the original without having so much overlap that comparison becomes preoccupation. Covering a song can be a thorny proposition, let alone a whole album, and Eisenstadt has managed to do it with marked success.

The second program on the album is a series of Octets, Without Roots I, II, and III, and What We Were Told, I, II, and III. There are inevitably going to be comparisons made with chamber groups, given the presence of a conductor and the instrumentation and sound. To my ears, the presence of a conductor was probably necessary for some of the cues given the fact that the leader was behind a drum set with both hands occupied during the proceedings. And while there is a harmonic quality that certainly evokes more chamber-y contexts, there's an underlying rhythmic thrust and groove that pops up throughout that distinguishes it from the chamber pack. It's obvious to my ears that Harris Einstadt is the kind of composer and listener who doesn't care much for genre boundaries, knows what his ears like, and isn't afraid to pursue that sound, even if someone might use dirty words like hybrid or fusion to describe the result (not that I would ever use the F word in my own descriptions). Whatever you want to call it, the Octet portion  of the album comes across as thoughtfully lush.

You might notice that I haven't delved into the particularities of each player's sound and musicianship on the record, and I think that's because it's really got a strong ensemble sound that doesn't end up feeling like a blowing session where the individual voices are at the center of the sound. This isn't to say that the album lacks in strong individual moments or players, but it's not the first thing that came to mind when I sat down to write about the music. Ultimately, The All Seeing Eye+Octets is a gorgeous body of music that I think will age well. Highly recommended.

Recorded live at the perennially excellent Guelph Jazz Festival in 1998, Vision Towards Essence finds Muhal Richard Abrams playing a solo, three part concert that gives the listener an unfiltered aural view of Mr. Abrams' musical approach. As far as I know, this is only his second solo recording, the first being the now out-of-print Afrisong, which was released in 1975 on the India Navigation label. I had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Abrams perform solo here in Chicago in Millennium Park this summer. Unfortunately, I was a bit tired and couldn't give the music the attention it deserves and requires, so this solo recording is a welcome addition to his catalog so I can listen in a proper setting, mentally and physically.

So how can we talk about Mr. Abrams' piano playing in a meaningful manner? Certainly there are any number of past and present piano luminaries we could hear being processed as influence in his music, but personally I don't find that to be a particularly useful exercise  for distilling his musical Essence (Vision Towards). When I think of musicians like Muhal Richard Abrams, or any other musician I would put in the "pantheon" to which he certainly belongs, I really feel that there is indeed an essence that is refracted through their individual prism of musical consciousness. In Mr. Abrams' case, there is an intuitive unfolding and flow of his ideas and syntax that lends itself to a close listening experience of active passivity - a "letting go" so you can let Mr. Abrams "take you there," wherever "there" may be.

Am I being oblique enough? Good. I don't think a blow-by-blow account of this recording is productive, necessary, or even possible. What I can say in terms of specifities: Muhal Richard Abrams is a virtuoso pianist and displays a masterful command of melody, harmony, dynamics, as well as developing incredible arcs and contours that flow together seamlessly. The three "parts of the recording" don't come at defined breaks with applause; this is essentially an hour long piano recital with no pauses, which is what he played when he was in Chicago this summer. He builds a kinetic momentum that has more in common with tidal movements than with any musical analog I can think of.

In conclusion: do I recommend Vision Towards Essence? It depends if you like really good music. If you do, then by all means, make sure to pick it up. If you hate good music, then I would definitely stay away.

If only life were that simple.

Sometimes when I sit down to write about a recording, I haven't had the chance to listen to it more than a handful of times. I like to listen to a recording at least 3 times, and 5 times is preferable before writing about it. This album has been in regular rotation since I picked it up in April at a live performance at the Velvet Lounge that featured some locals along with Mr. Bynum's trio, so I have a more in depth perspective on it than other recordings I sometimes write about.

The album is called The Middle Picture. Before I read the liner notes that explained the title's origins, the first connection I made was with the Middle Path or Middle Way touted by Gautama Buddha, one of the core principles of Buddhist practice. It's a practice of finding the middle and avoiding the extremes; the Buddha himself explored the extremes of decadence, living as a prince, and then of asceticism, living as austerely as possible. His conclusion was that neither path would lead to self realization, and that non-extremism was the way.

Mr. Bynum offers his own take on this principle by talking about the Big Picture (global) and the Small Picture (personal), both of which offer their own frustrations and anxieties. The Middle Picture is everything in between that transcends the personal without reaching the unwieldiness of the global, allowing an objectivity that then allows more optimism to seep in. The creamy middle of the oreo, if you will.

The Middle Way of Buddhism also refers to ways of transcending apparent dichotomies, phenomena that appear antithetical on the surface but have an underlying unity.

There was clearly a lot of thought given to the sequencing and structure of the album. On the back, where the tracks are listed, they are grouped. 1 stands alone, 2 and 3 are grouped together, 4, 5, and 6 are grouped. Tracks 7 and 8 are titled as a suite and grouped, and then 9 stands alone. How symmetrical!

The album also builds symmetrically - tracks 1 and 9 which bookend the album feature the trio of Taylor Ho Bynum, Mary Halvorson, and Tomas Fujiwara - the other middle tracks feature the trio plus Matt Bauder, Evan O'Reilly and Jessica Pavone.

The opening track is entitled Brooklyn with an E and opens with Mary Halvorson's guitar spinning ostinati over Tomas Fujiwara's grooving drums. Mr. Bynum's plungered cornet enters to a juxtaposing, contrasting effect, introducing texture as a primary concern, a thread that weaves throughout the album. It's a lovely contrast, as Ms. Halvorson's guitar has a very dry, clear sound, and Mr. Bynum's cornet adds a wet, gooey, plungery mess to the proceedings. This tune, like most of the songs on the album, resist the typical understandings of song in terms of form, without ever appearing to lack structure or composition, and adding to my intrigue with every listen.

Track 2, Woods, is part of a two part suite with In A Silent Way. It opens with Taylor Ho Bynum's cornet, which he twists and snarls into some lovely multiphonics, before the rest of the band enters. At this point we have a full sextet and some really interesting sounds going on. There is a guitar that sounds like it's being run through a ring modulator, a viola bowing, a bass clarinetist doing some tongue slapping, lots of cymbal work from Fujiwara, what sounds like some very low tones on the cornet, and an overall sound that's busy without sacrificing breathing room for each of the individual voices.

There's a clean segue between Woods and In A Silent Way which opens with a simmering shimmer from the ensemble - mallets on the drums, sustained bowing on the viola, and delays and effects on the guitar. The clarinet and the cornet state the theme over this backdrop. It's a quick 5:15 through the tune, and it's without a doubt one of my favorite versions of the song already, which is saying a lot.

There's a contemplative pause between the Woods/IASW suite and the beginning of mm(pf), the start of another three part suite. This song sees Jessica Pavone switching from Viola to electric bass. Forgive me for skipping over the grooves of mm(pf) to get to Bluebird of Delhi, but it might be my personal highlight of the album, fittingly since it fits in the central 5 slot, the peak of the structural edifice of The Middle Picture. I don't know if I'd say I'm obsessed with it, but if I'm putting the album on but only have the time to listen to a track, I oftentimes find myself skipping to Bluebird of Delhi, a fascinating take on this Strayhorn tune featured in Duke Ellington's Far East Suite.

3V2 is the closing part of the middle suite, and it covers a lot of ground musically, to the point that I have hard time finding a thread of continuity that makes it a whole piece rather than a series of musical vignettes. One middle section features Matt Bauder on tenor sax heavily, a tone that was jarring in its associational power with jazz in my listening experience, maybe because so much of this album utilizes sounds that are not usually associated with the jazz orthodoxy.

Tracks 7 and 8 are part of a suite entitled JP & the Boston Suburbs - it's actually a three part suite divided into two tracks - maybe Mr. Bynum can help explain that decision. I'm not sure if that's a name of Jessica Pavone's rock side project band or if the 'burbs provided the inspiration for the tunes. I'm not quite sure what here evokes the suburban experience, because I could probably justify almost anything as fitting into the melange of suburbia.

There's some great the electric guitar work throughout the album, and this is as good a place as any to talk about it. I wish I was more familiar with Mary Halvorson and Evan O'Reilly's playing and individual penchants for use of effects so I could determine who I was hearing at various points. My best guesses are stylistic contrasts, but I also know what a diverse territory one player can cover. Regardless, there is a lot of really interesting playing and tones from both players throughout the album, and they both really shine in this suite to my ears.

Apace finds us back where we started, with a trio of THB, Mary Halvorson, and Tomas Fujiwara. It's a nice place to be - I enjoy the trio playing quite a bit. It ends on a contemplative note, with a fadeout vamp from Halvorson and a two note repeating pattern from Bynum, laying the listener gently to rest at the end of the proceedings.

This is a great album. I have no problems saying that. There's some element in the music that keeps me coming back for repeated listenings and I hear something new each time. You can buy it here.

As a musician, it's never easy to move beyond an association like the one Robert "Baabe" Irving enjoyed with Miles Davis for many years. He was Miles' musical director, producer, keyboardist, confidante and friend for many years, working on the albums Decoy and You're Under Arrest and touring extensively. As a result, most people associate him with the keyboard rather than the acoustic piano, which is a shame considering the sound and playing we hear on his album, New Momentum.

First, a disclaimer: I know and have worked with Baabe in producing some shows that he has put on. He's an extremely kind and thoughtful person who possesses a gentle intensity that is always present in whatever activity he is involved in. He is generous with his time, playing at youth jam sessions to help develop the next generation of talent, and always gracious and self effacing.

His new release is the first on a new label, Sonic Portraits, that he started with colleague and friend Terri Lyne Carrington. It showcases his playing and writing, as well as the musicianship of his peers, Buster Williams, Marlene Rosenberg, and Ernie Adams.

What we find on New Momentum is an artist fully formed; a mature work that conveys a clarity of purpose and vision. There is no hesitation, no superfluous playing by any member of he ensemble, and a mood of relaxed intensity that pervades the proceedings. While there might not be anything particularly innovative in terms of the genre of jazz going on here, he's managed to make one of the most enjoyable piano trio records I've heard in a long time. It manages to sound modern without sacrificing the underpinnings of the tradition; rhythmically buoyant, harmonically adventurous, and lots of group interplay.

A word about the production on the record: the sound is fantastic. Present but not sterile, and a great mix of all the instruments that acknowledges the interconnectedness of the roles in a piano trio. Really, honestly, one of the best sounding records I've heard in a long time.

It's also a very well paced and sequenced record. I've always believed that there's something to be said about grouping songs in threes when looking at the flow of an album or a live show for that matter. This album starts out with an incredibly strong one-two-three combo, New Momentum, Havilah, and We Three Kings. After a contemplative introduction, New Momentum kicks in with a deep swinging groove that leaves plenty of room to breathe - the title track of the album is a fitting beginning for the record, and definitely gets the band moving, lending momentum to the proceedings.

Havilah has an infectious groove and driving rhythm, complete with added percussion by Ernie Adams. We Three Kings is another deeply swinging affair that according to the liner notes was originally intended to be a free download extra to the album until Teri Lyne Carrington insisted in be included in the album proper. Ernie Adams plays a fantastic drum solo that once again makes me wonder why he's remained only locally known here in Chicago.

Primoridial Waters has an introduction complete with chimes, chanting, and sampled sounds of waves that might make you think you're headed for a new agey sound experiment until the band kicks in with a georgeous melody. Buster Williams takes a lead in this tune, playing the melody in unison with Irving and playing a sublime bowed solo that should lay to rest any notion that Buster might have lost a step.

After the first 5 tracks offering originals by Irving, the 6th is a co-credit with saxophonist Bill Evans called Fire Flower, and the final two tracks are covers; first is Miles Davis' Seven Steps To Heaven and finally Wayne Shorter's Nefertiti to close the album. Seven Steps to Heaven gets a beautiful solo treatment to open that really showcases the depth of Baabe's playing, before the band joins in. This is a really great version that goes beyond the original to find new life in the tune. Marlene Rosenberg's bass provides an incredible degree of continuity from Buster Williams' here with a powerful performance.

I wasn't surprised to see a Wayne Shorter tune on the record because I've heard Baabe mention in conversation that Shorter is one of his favorite modern composers. Dedicating the performance to Wayne and Miles, he takes the tempo down to a ballad pace that really brings out the beauty of the melody. While the album starts out with a bang, the final track goes out on a quiet, contemplative note. A really beautiful take on Nefertiti and worth seeking out if you're a Shorter fan.

Not surprisingly to anyone who knows him, Baabe Irving has released a great album in New Momentum. Here's hoping that the title is prophetic and leads to many more releases in the near future.

Roberto Fonseca is a Cuban pianist born in Havana whose career I became aware of tracing the paths of influence and collaboration of musicians like his mentor and collaborator, the late great Ibrahim Ferrer, and Omara Portuondo, who appears on one track on the album.

What I found was a pianist with a particularly percussive touch; an ability to play intensely when the setting calls for it, and a respect for and use of space that resonates with my own aeshtetic preferences in the music that Fonseca plays. Certainly, the influence of Ferrer resonates throughout.

Zamazu, his first relase on Enja, a Justintime relative label, is a gem of an album, something I have no problem saying after repeated listenings. It took me a while to warm to his use of vocal unisons (he sings in addition to playing piano on several tracks), but I realized that it was more the production value on the technique that irritated me initially, something that I noticed less and less with more listens. The program is mostly originals with a few traditionals, an Ibdullah Ibrahim tune and some co-written songs with collaborators like Ibrahim Ferrer and Cachaito Lopez. The writing is compelling throughout, and in addition we get some interesting writing from Fonseca in the liner notes that help to contextualize his concept or approach to writing each tune.

His band displays a great range of ability, tackling the forceful driving rhythms with ease and the relaxed pacing of the ballads with ease. The use of clarinet to my hears references Paquito D'Rivera, although I think I prefer the flute and alto sax playing that accompanies some tracks to the clarinet tone wise.

A few stand out tracks:

Llego Cachaito, with legendary bassist Cachaito Lopez who guests on the track in a trio with the drummer on the album, Ramses Rodriguez. A heartfelt ballad with Cachaito's beautiful playing showcased, Llego Cachaito is an exposition of a remarkable quality that I find hard to describe but has something to do with a sense of pulse and motion in ballads that I only hear in "latin" jazz. It's different than the way a traditional jazz ballad moves rhythmically and it lends a sensuality to the listening experience that I find extremely enojyable.

Triste Alegria, another track with Cachaito Lopez finds him bowing the melody to a fantastic effect, starting out as a medium paced ballad and halfway through turning into a more upbeat raucous affair. The solo mid-way through is worth the price of admission alone, and Fonseca does a great job of creating a backdrop for Lopez's voice on the bass before Lopez gives way for Fonseca's own solo.

Zamazamazu is a deep groove with plenty of percussion that would be at home as a sample in a dance floor remix or as it appears here with Javier Zalba on flute taking the melody.

Even where the album stumbles a bit - to my ears, Mil Congojas with the fantastic Omara Portuondo narrowly avoids stepping over the boundary into schmaltz, and Congo Arabe is a bit too literal in referencing "eastern" influences for my taste - there is a sincerity of expression that comes through. In particular, Portuondo's singing on Mil Congojas is remarkable if only for the weathered quality of her voice that can only come with the age and experience her musical career has brought her. My only other critique is on the production end, where the recording sounds a bit dry to my ears, and the way the strings are recorded on Ishmael (the Ibrahim tune) makes them sound more like a synth than real strings, which is a shame.

Zamazu was a bit of a surprise to me in terms of my own enjoyment of it. I've always loved Cuban music though and this is an excellent effort by the young Fonseca, whose talent promises many more excellent releases in the future.

Art Blakey was one of my first true loves in jazz. Maybe it was his driving rhythmic command that captured my ears at such a young age, but whatever the case, I can still pinpoint the moment I grasped what it meant to really swing while listening to a Blakey record. Add to that the ability to trace so many great careers that got their start or made their way through the Blakey band, and you have a fascination with the Jazz Messengers and their incredible catalog of music.

Leaving questions of producer fetishism aside for the moment, this Keepnews Collection reissue of the Riverside release Caravan finds Blakey flanked by Curtis Fuller on trombone, Freddie Hubbard on trumpet, Wayne Shorter on tenor sax, Cedar Walton on piano, and Reggie Workman on bass.  Arguably the best Messengers lineup, and if not, certainly up there with any other. It's also noteworthy for being the first Riverside release for Blakey, after his impressive run with Blue Note.

There is no question of the instrumental prowess of the band; Fuller provides some particularly impressive trombone fireworks and Hubbard is in fine form throughout. Wayne Shorter provides two excellent compositions, Sweet N' Sour and This Is For Albert (dedicated to Bud Powell) in addition to his fine playing.

The remastering of the album seems to have spread the stereo image more wide than the LP copy I was bequeathed by a relative many moons ago. That copy has seen a few too many plays so this was a welcome reissue/remaster for my collection.

The album starts off with a solid reading of Caravan that is most noteworthy for featuring Mr. Blakey's drums the most heavily of any track on the album. It's as if he gets his word in early on and then lets his band take it from there.

Hot N' Sour's head features some wonderfully subtle yet effective use of dynamics, followed by wonderful solos by Shorter, Hubbard, Fuller, and Walton, each of them playing a chorus and then out. The Blakey rhythm section is so supportive that it's easy to see how it could prove to be such a fertile training ground for so many young greats over the years.

In The Wee Small Hours of the Morning features Fuller playing the melody in a manner reminiscent of Duke's use of the trombone in a range not normally associated with the instrument, with Hubbard and Shorter providing backing accompaniment.  It turns into a real feature for Fuller who takes the first solo and then is featured a capella after the final reading of the head, before the band comes back in to finish it off.

This Is For Albert is a Shorter tune that's dedicated to Bud Powell, which according to the liner notes is because contemporaries of Powell insist that Albert was his first name. It's the most intriguing piece on the album to my ears, opening with Reggie Workman's bass, soon joined by Cedar Walton and Art Blakey's rim-heavy drum accompaniment. Blakey punctuates the phrase of the melody in unison with the horns in a way that really brings the rhythmic emphasis to the forefront. Shorter is the first featured soloist, his tone resplendent and gorgeous, immediately setting the bar very high for Curtis Fuller and Freddie Hubbard, neither of whom disappoint. During this track in particular I wished Cedar Walton's piano was higher the mix so I could hear the harmonic accompaniment more present behind the soloists.

A beautiful if uneventful version of Skylark, featuring Freddie Hubbard, is followed by the album closer, Thermo, a Hubbard minor-key original. It's the kind of tune that might not be particularly remarkable for its compositional framework but still manages to produce incendiary playing by the Messengers.

On the reissue there's two bonus tracks: the second take of Thermo and another take of Sweet N' Sour, both of which I was happy to hear again by the end of the disc. I haven't really taken the time to compare the versions but both readings of each tune are excellent.

Dusty Groove, a Chicago record store of the highest caliber specializing in rare grooves from the US and abroad, has now spawned a label focusing on Essential Reissues (their name)that haven't seen the light of day in many years for one reason or another. Their first batch of reissues includes Brazilian legend Jorge Ben's Forca Bruta, brilliant jazz harpists Dorothy Ashby's The Rubaiyat of Dorothy Ashby, and last but not least, Melvin Jackson, bassist of Eddie Harris fame, and his Funky Skull. I've picked up all of them and they're three for three in my opinion. Here's my take on the Melvin Jackson entry in the series.

The opening title track Funky Skull features the first of two lineups that appear on the album, with Melvin Jackson playing upright bass, heavily filtered through a Maestro G2 box, boomerang, and echo-plex, Phil Upchurch on Fender bass (he also plays guitar on a later track), Morris Jennings on drums, Bobby Pittman and James Tatu on tenor, Donald Towns and Tom Hall on trumpet, Pete Cosey on guitar and Tobie Wynn on baritone. It's a rollicking funky groove akin to Cold Duck Time later on the album (which has the same lineup), with the distinguishing feature that sets it apart from similar recordings in the idiom being Melvin Jackson taking the lead on his affected upright that comes out sounding like a duck that smokes 3 packs a day.

If the rest of the album followed in this vein, it would be a solid, if not revolutionary funk record released in 1969. However, the second track, Ma She's Makin' Eyes At Me makes it clear that things are headed in a different direction. Once again featuring Mr. Jackson's bass quackery playing a melody over some heavily reverberated drums for a short 0:51, it acts a segue to the other world explored on the album, which has a large part to do with the other lineup.

Bold & Black brings a new band to the table, with Melvin again on acoustic bass, augmented by AACM stalwarts Jodie Christian on piano/hammond/echo-plex, Lester Bowie on trumpet/flugelhorn, Roscoe Mitchell on alto/baritone/flute, Leo Smith on trumpet/flugelhorn, and in addition Byron Bowie on tenor sax/flute, Steve Galloway on trombone, Maurice Miller on voices, and Billy Hart (!) on drums.

Now this is getting interesting.

Bold & Black is an Eddie Harris tune, one of a few that Jackson plays on the album. This one has a real laid back easy groove with tight horn backgrounds from the horn section, with each player taking some creative deviations from from the part, keeping their AACM street cred. Melvin Jackson improvises over almost the entire tune alongside Maurice Miller's passionate cries and singing, which help place the time of the recording with its pleas for Black pride and identity.

Now that the album's off the beaten track bona fides are certified, the second lineup takes on a Ken Chaney (of Young Holt Unlimited fame) tune called Dance of the Dervish that opens with Melvin Jackson's heavily echo-plexed bass, piano, drums, and some sublime backup singing to some uncredited female singers. With muted trumpets and the distant mixing of the piano to create some serious depth, there's an eerie quality early on in the track that gives way to some free improv with Melvin Jackson's echoey bass and some serious echo on some background vocals. Definitely in the space-dub-free-jazz realm, with the band eventually coming around and back to the melody.

Cold Duck Time is another funky workout with the first lineup, followed by three more tracks with the AACM heavy grouping. Say What features Mr. Jackson for much of the tune, and a nice Roscoe Mitchell blowing session over the laid back groove from the band. Funky Doo follows the same basic format that has now been established, which is Melvin Jackson being featured with tight horn arrangements accompanying him, with some vocal calls to do the funky doo.

This is a great album and certainly a recording that could have only happened at the unique time and place that was Chicago in 1969, with the AACM in bloom and the Cadet sound of Ramsey Lewis and Earth, Wind and Fire laying the grooves down in another part of town. This meeting of the two worlds through the work of Melvin Jackson is truly a treat. If Dusty Groove keeps unearthing gems like this, we have some great sounds to look (hear?) forward to.

You can purchase the CD here, and the LP here.

David Murray has reunited his Black Saint Quartet, sans earthly departed pianist John Hicks, whose shoes are filled by the able Lafayette Gilchrist. Along with Ray Drummond on bass and Andrew Cyrille on drums, it's a fantastic lineup that on this album is also aided by the presence of Cassandra Wilson.

Ms. Wilson acts as the album's bookends, performing the opener and closer, singing words penned by the prolific Ishmael Reed. Reed also wrote the liner notes, and admits that upon being asked to write lyrics for Cassandra Wilson, at the ripe age of 68 and in awe of Ms. Wilson, all he could think was Wow! "Like some zit afflicted adolescent" (his words).

Sacred Ground sets a hushed backdrop for Wilson's sensuous vocal stylings. Along with her gorgeous voice, the message is at the forefront: "We've come back to claim our dearest legacy/we've come back to claim our very own/to you they're just a box full of bones/but to us they're our loved ones who shouldn't be left alone."  Reed drew his inspiration for Sacred Ground from a film about the banishment of thousands of American blacks from their homes between 1890 and 1930 in the South and Midwest; the instrumental track 4, Banished, is based upon the same source.

The sensitive balladry accompaniment that floats behind Wilsons lyrics during the verses morphs into a loose, freer mid section of the piece with Murray on bass clarinet. Lafayette Gilchrist is phenomenal on this track and throughout the album; it makes me wonder why his solo efforts haven't clicked more for me, as I've also enjoyed his playing on the other recent David Murray Quartet with strings album that was released a while back. Furthermore, when I saw the Murray Quartet here in Chicago a while back, Gilchrist was a highlight of what I otherwise found to be a quite lackluster show. But I digress....

Wilsons vocals re-enter for a refrain that continues the upward trajectory of the piece, which ultimately coming to a peak before sliding back down to the song's original restrained dynamic, with a final verse by Cassandra. The band really nails the ballad feel and mood, which in a jazz setting is like nothing else in the world for me.

Certainly a bold scene setter for the remainder of the album.

Transitions is a solid piece that typifies what I've come to expect of David Murray (which isn't necessarily a bad thing): a solid instrumental piece with a nice head, and then a form over which Murray blows with his liberal sense of time, phrasing, and singular approach to the horn. Like him or not, as has been said in previous discussions about the merits of David Murray, he has certainly created his own bag on the horn that is instantly identifiable.

This is as good a time as any to mention the fact that I love Andrew Cyrille's drumming. His feel, use of space, and sense of swing all really do it for me and I find myself honing in on his playing throughout the album. He plays an excellent solo in this track that lays bare his sense of melodicism on the drums.

Pierce City is a stand out track on the album, featuring Murray at his best, one of best solos I've heard form him on record; intense playing without sacrificing some dynamic interplay with the ensemble.

Utilizing the Greek mythological Cassandra as an inspiration for the lyrics, Ishmael Reed wrote the final track, The Prophet of Doom, which features Ms. Wilson singing over a straight blues form. It's a laid back feel that even features some finger snapping as Cassandra sings about her mythological namesake.

I think this is a great modern jazz album. It's not revolutionary in terms of innovation, but it's a fantastic recording in the idiom that has a strong message to go along with the great playing by the whole band. It will get a lot more mileage in my collection than Murray's previous release, Waltz Again, which was perhaps more novel but to my ears lacked some essential element that fuels longevity in listening.

David Murray on MySpace has some tracks up for your previewing pleasure, and there are two videos up on YouTube that show David Murray and Cassandra Wilson in the studio, here and here.

The Nels Clines Singers, an instrumental trio with no vocal singers in sight led by guitar hero Nels Cline, recently released an excellent disc by the name of Draw Breath on the LA based cryptogramophone.

His band features Scott Amendola on drums and Devin hoff on bass. This release is higher profile for Nels if only because of his relatively new association with the rock band Wilco, who are based here in Chicago and recently released their first disc with Mr. Cline on guitar, making Nels somewhat of a local celebrity on the indie scene (Wilco's drummer, Glenn Kotche appears as a special guest on Squirrel of God). He played a stirring set with other local guitar hero Jeff Parker last year at the indie-Pitchfork Music Fest and has a high visibility amongst the young crowd due to his relationship with Wilco.

A quote from Mr. Cline: “I like to joke—and it’s not really a joke—that all my records tend to include the same ingredients. There’s free improvisation along with structured composition, investigation of sound along with traditional harmony, and subtlety along with bombast.”

Draw Breath opens with Caved-in Heart Blues, a piece that is more on the subtle end of the subtlety-bombast axis, consisting of one extended trip through a I-IV-V-I blues form that takes the entire song to complete. Dirge like in tempo and mood, the song features Mr. Cline's baritone guitar and Scott Amendola's drums to create the heavy feel of the piece, up until about 3/4 of the way through when the V chord peaks with a brief psychedelic excursion with electronics and lap steel. For the final trip through the I chord he returns to baritone guitar and drums to end up back where he started. It's an intriguing pick for the album opener, and after several listens to the whole album I'm still trying to decide what effect Nels was going for by putting it up front.

Attempted is a more jazz oriented tune with a head that is played by the entire trio, with Scott Amendola contributing punctuated drum accents that really bring out the melody. The solos are really group oriented with lots of interaction that makes you forget that it's a guitar trio with a guitar out front, eliminating any tendency to associate the format with the rock sounds of bands like Cream or The Jimi Hendrix Experience.

A word about Nels Cline's tone: it's certainly rock influenced, especially his distorted town that is more distortion and less overdrive, and there are hints of the Frisellian influence both in terms of tone and approach to the music. However, for all the looping and penchant for guitar stomp boxes that Bill Frisell has, I think Nels out-effects him.

Nels in response to a question about his use of effects pedals: "I just hear lots of sounds and colors. These sounds and colors in my head are compelling to me both emotionally and intellectually. Besides, I learned long ago that I seem to have a weird aptitude for using them. And yes, they do mess up one's sound. But then again, I just started equating tone and the proper equipment a few years ago! Before that i was just trying to play notes I liked, I had virtually no scientific "tonemeister" mentality. Being allowed to age and grow is indeed a blessing!"

I suppose influence is the wrong word to use in discussing Frisell and Cline considering the two guitarists emerged at the same time, both making their recorded debuts in 1979; it's more that I tend to associate some of his musical devices and tones in the instrumental music/jazz context with Mr. Frisell, but that's probably due to the fact that I was exposed to him before I heard Nels Cline.

Confection is by Nels' own admission, a "bit of a trifle" that reflects his penchant for writing an "instrumental hit." I love it. I'm never one to shy away from guitar pyrotechnics and Nels provides it in spades. It's a rocker with a loose punk vibe and intensity that often pervades Nels' playing regardless of context. It's interesting to frame this track alongside such delicately beautiful acoustic musings as Recognize I and II and the electronic textural sound odyssey of An Evening At Pops or Squirrel of God, all of it coming from Nels Cline and his musically malleable trio. Then again, I listen to and make all kinds of music myself, so I don't find it particularly odd, and I personally enjoy the aesthetic he's woven together.

From Mr. Cline himself: "Increasingly over the years I’ve lived what is essentially a double life—to such an extent in the earlier days that I almost quit playing, because I couldn’t reconcile my impulses to make huge amounts of sound playing rock with my desire to play music of great sophistication and subtlety in the classic jazz way."

Reconciling musical impulses is an interesting way of framing an approach to musical creativity. I don't know why anyone needs to pick sides.

The guitar is such a loaded instrument whenever anyone picks it up. The phallic rock associations are impossible to escape, and in the jazz world the tone-rolled-off lack of treble sound is cliche to the point of absurdity. Then come along musical polymaths like Nels Cline who absorb and process all musical influences in a way that makes it all uniquely Clinesian when it comes out of his guitar.

Draw Breath is the kind of record that makes you wonder if you're still listening to the same album from track to track due to the diversity of musical material approached by the trio. Eclecticism like that can sometimes result in a lack of flow for the album listening experience, but I find the variety on this album to be refreshing rather than jarring. This is an excellent disc that I can see I will continue to get a lot of mileage from in the future. As always with musicians who crossover into the popular realm, I hold out hope that a Wilco fan might pick up this disc and be tempted to delve into the rest of Mr. Cline's music, in the process discovering the rich musical world that awaits them in the realm of improvisational music.

As promised, I am writing to review the new Indigo Trio CD recently released on Greenleaf Music, Live In Montreal. Since I also attended the album release party at the Velvet Lounge last night, I'm going to add in a review of their live show and generally condense the post into a discussion about the band, their interplay, and their musicality.

The Indigo Trio is...Nicole Mitchell on flutes and vocals, Harrison Bankhead on bass, cello, and vocals, and Hamid Drake on drums and percussion (in this case the frame drum).

Their new album opens with Harrison Bankhead's arco bass, soon accompanied by the fluttering of Nicole Mitchell's flute and then finally the addition of Hamid Drake's delicate brush work. Bankhead's bass, as is often the case in the live show, gives a lot of the music a sense of structure, harmonically and rhythmically, guiding the group "in" and "out."

Any notion you may have had about the flute being an inherently featherweight instrument in this heavyweight trio configuration are misguided. As Peter Margasak recently noted in his preview of the show, Nicole Mitchell is well on her way to becoming jazz's greatest living flute player. If she continues at the pace she's going as a musician, composer, and innovator, I think she has the ability to be the best ever. Her artistry, ability, and pliability as a musician is astounding, and she has an incredible presence both on the recording and live in person.

It's interesting for me to hear her in this particular trio because of what one of the forefathers of the Chicago scene, Fred Anderson has already done and accomplished with these same musicians. His work with Harrison Bankhead and Hamid Drake is truly incredible, and to hear her step into the same situation and make it her own is a testament to her abilities as an improviser and composer. Bankhead and Drake are in their usual state of responsive, attentive musicianship, toeing the fine line between being reactive and supportive and providing input and stimulus at the same time.

On both the album and in their live show, the trio shows a willingness to explore a wide variety of rhythmic and tonal settings, belying influences as diverse as roots reggae, afrobeat (I know Hamid Drake played reggae extensively in the 70s-80s, and Nicole Mitchell is a big reggae and afrobeat fan), hardbop, latin grooves, and everything in between. They also strike a nice balance, to my ears, between free improvisation and composed material, something that I appreciate in an improvising unit.

The album release show last night at the Velvet Lounge was packed and very well received by the audience, who were rapt with attention and very appreciative of the musical offerings. I hope we get to see the trio again soon, although I know that it will be a rare treat, as Nicole Mitchell is extremely busy and Hamid Drake is constantly traversing the globe with musicians like William Parker, David Murray, or Bill Laswell.

If you haven't picked up the album yet, you can do it here - $8 for instant gratification MP3s, or $12 for the album in the mail.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I received an advance copy of the new Fred Anderson & Hamid Drake album, From the River to the Ocean, also featuring Harrison Bankhead on bass, cello and piano (!), Josh Abrams on bass and guimbri, and Jeff Parker on guitar. I've finally sunk my teeth into it enough times to feel comfortable writing about in a meaningful manner, so here it goes...

The opening track, titled Planet E, is a Fred Anderson composition that opens with guitar swells and cymbal accents. Fred's melody is very angular and beautiful, and Jeff Parker plays these beautiful, vibrato laden swells that add a fantastic atmosphere to the opening head. This segues into a latin-ish groove (both Josh Abrams and Harrison Bankhead play bass on this track, although I have a difficult time distinguishing them).

This leads into a Jeff Parker solo that is particularly reminiscent for me of the Gabor Szabo influence. I love Jeff's playing and it really shines here with a fantastic rhythm section to support him. I don't need to document my love for Hamid Drake's drumming any more than I have in the past, but needless to say he's in top form as usual, providing an impeccably tasteful balance of simple rhythmic support and stirring interjections.

At around the four minute mark, Parker's solo segues seamlessly into Fred Anderson's, opening with a distinct and recognizable Andersonian incantation. I find his tone and phrasing to be so instantly identifiable. As usual, Fred displays an uncanny balance of exploration, rhythmically, harmonically, and melodically. I think of Fred as the most "in" of the "out" players. He never falls into the kind of squonking and honking that a lot of sax players utilize (not knocking it, just making a comparison), and the result are these incredible fluid lines that present clear phrases and ideas. Some fantastic comping and rhythmic play between Jeff Parker and Hamid during Fred's solo. Jeff plays these great punchy and harmonically rich chords that really add a lot to the sound.

Fred's playing segues into a dueling bass solo by Josh and Harrison. At this point you can tell they're each panned to a channel - I'd like to find out who's where. It would have been nice info to include in the liner notes. There are some eerie sounds coming from Jeff Parker throughout the bass solos and Hamid interacts vividly with both bassists.

The tune ends with a restatement of the head, and then they're out, 14 minutes and 42 seconds later.

I'll add in a note about the recorded sound here. They did a really nice job with the mixing, especially the drums, to create a great stereo image and presence. Recording jazz of this style in a studio is certainly an art - getting the right chemistry and presence and translating it to the tape. Thrill Jockey and engineer John McEntire did a great job on this one.

Track 2, entitled Strut Time, another Fred Anderson credited tune, opens with Fred playing a capella, before dropping into a repeating motif (one I've heard Fred play before, especially around the end of a set - it has a loping, free and easy quality) that all of the instruments state along with him. This tune features Harrison Bankhead switching to the cello, adding a distinct timbral change from the first number, especially when the cello is played arco. While I've seen the bass/cello combination taken to greater heights in a live setting by Abrams and Bankhead, the playing here is excellent as Bankhead interacts with Fred freely throughout, all over Josh Abrams and Hamid Drake's deep swinging pocket.

The solo order is switched up on this tune, with Fred Anderson blowing first, followed by Jeff Parker and then an impressive display on the bass by Harrison Bankhead. During Bankhead's solo, the rhythmic feel is switched up from the swing into a straighter groove, before falling back into the deep swing of the head and previous solos for Josh Abram's solo. Josh has a very deliberate and heavy feel on the bass and I absolutely adore his tone and the way he plays behind and on top of the beat with intent.

This is followed by Hamid Drake's first solo of the album, during which he displays his usual mastery of the entire drum set and it's tonal and timbral possibilities. I've read in a Fred Anderson interview in the past that one of the things he likes about Hamid's playing is that he plays the drums first, and the cymbals are used more as highlights. I don't feel qualified to make such a statement about Hamid's entire oeuvre, but he certainly favors the drums here, before the band segues back into the head.

Harrison Bankhead's tune on the album is a tribute to the recently departed Malachi Thompson, "For Brother Thompson." He's featured on piano, an instrument I didn't know he played fluently e