Moment's Notice Reviews of Recent Media Günter Baby Sommer + Raymond MacDonald
Each brings a distinctive voice. In spite of a reputation as a wild man of the European free scene, Sommer loves to swing. In that respect at least his kinship with Dutchman Han Bennink is evident. His nickname stems from his affection for Louis Armstrong’s drummer Warren “Baby” Dodds. Indeed, his consequent command of the rudiments, with their echoes of Prussian march music, have come to form the basis of his expression in even the most unfettered settings. Allied to that is a kit which privileges unconventional textures and tuned pitches, adding both drama and fun to his interactions. MacDonald, a stalwart of the Glasgow Improvisers Orchestra, though with roots in jazz and pop, brings a rich hinterland to bear. Although much of his recent activity falls within the realm of spontaneous collaboration, with the likes of Marilyn Crispell, Alexander Hawkins, and Alister Spence, to focus on just the pianists, here he shows himself to be a master of extemporized melody as much as extended reed technique. Multiphonics, circular breathing, and percussive plosives all find themselves pressed into a storytelling sensibility. The title signals the intent, and together they do what it says on the tin. Whether through the laidback late-night atmospherics of the opener “I’m On The Way To Become A Ballad,” the haunting introspective “Precious Metal” where cymbal accents punctuate a continuous yodeling line which shows some affinity to folky bagpipe patterns, or the throaty cries atop distant thunder of “From Somewhere Else To Nowhere,” they demonstrate a near telepathic understanding. Sommer tracks the contours of MacDonald’s trajectory assiduously and inventively, here a buoyant rat-a-tat, there crisp chattering brushwork, while the reedman layers his effects judiciously, nowhere more so than on the “Five Miniatures” which pithily showcase Sommer’s knowing attention to timbre and pulse. Perhaps the only thing missing is a sense of provocation. If anything, there’s almost too much agreement. While the jaunty lockstep ditty of “Hiking Song” for example might induce smiles and delight in concert, some may find the resultant sugar rush palls on repeated listens. But maybe that’s just quibbling with the overall aim of the set. That caveat aside, it’s a good-natured and celebratory affair from two old comrades who share a like-minded approach.
Alister Spence + Tony Buck
Both traits are in abundance from the outset, as small percussion and prepared piano conjure a scape that is neither lush nor barren on the opening, well-titled “Dry Wood Talking.” Not limiting themselves to limpid, haiku-like utterances, they then carefully build contours that tap the full capacities of their instruments, while maintaining the music’s initial intimations of reverential regard. The album then unfolds as something of a tour de force, not in the conventional sense of raising the bandstand or the roof, but in how they navigate the spaces between Spence’s more overtly jazz-informed music and the minimal playing associated with the recently resurgent Necks. There are robust exchanges dotted throughout the album, but they have the rigorous balance and finely wrought details of the more muted passages. The world has shrunk incredibly since Spence and Buck first made themselves known in the northern hemisphere, but albums like Mythographer still leave listeners with the sense that there is an intriguing musical world to discover down under.
Chad Taylor Trio
The album features compositions written by all three members, as well as covers of two tunes by the legendary pianist and composer Andrew Hill. On the opener, “Subterfuge,” Taylor imbues a subtle Latin touch to Hill’s hypnotic modality, while Podgursky gracefully combines lush chord voicings and dancing single-note phrases with effortless dexterity. Settles is more assertive, ushering forth a freewheeling flow of ideas, with Taylor demonstrating his versatility during a series of four-bar exchanges with his bandmates. Conversely, the angular theme of Hill’s “Reconciliation” is underpinned by the leader’s sensitive brushwork, setting the stage for probing solos by Settles and Podgursky, who extrapolate the thorny theme with knowing confidence. Taylor’s two songs focus on rhythm; the jubilant “Julian’s Groove” employs a ravishing Afro-Cuban beat to excellent effect, while the folksy title track, with a meter in five, boasts a rubato section for piano. “Moon Tone Shift,” penned by Settles, offers a salient example of the Trio’s intuitive chemistry and unbound expressionism. Ostensibly a ballad, the tune begins quietly, with cyclical chord changes building from somber lyricism to a rhapsodic climax. Podgursky contributed four of the album’s nine tracks, writing the bulk of the material. His pieces range from the multilayered “Delta,” with its disarmingly opulent melody, to the exquisitely sophisticated “Omniverse,” which closes the album with intervallic melodies bolstered by Taylor’s tasteful drumming. Complex yet unpretentious, The Reel boasts a rarefied combination of emotional immediacy and unfettered experimentation. Sounding like an aesthetic distillation of Taylor’s career to date, the album never settles into any one particular style, yet the program’s stylistically cohesive sensibility is as much a product of Settles and Podgursky’s shared tastes as it is Taylor’s. Bringing out the best in his fellow musicians, Taylor relies on the strengths of his seasoned collaborators, whose playing and songwriting abilities help make The Reel an even more impressive statement than the group’s debut.
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