My followers know how much I've appreciated Moor Mother's music since I first listened to her album "Jazz Codes" (Anti-, 2022). I felt a similar intention in her work as I had encountered in Daniel Marcellus Givens' music at the start of the new millennium, and I was excited to hear someone continuing that artistic lineage. I was fortunate to have the opportunity to see Camae Ayewa (Moor Mother) perform live in Milan, having eagerly anticipated the chance.
Accompanied by a drummer whose jazz background was evident despite the music's departure from classic jazz, Moor Mother introduced the audience to her latest album, "The Great Bailout" (Anti-, 2023), playing only three pieces from that record. The compositions were transformed by new arrangements rooted more in noise and industrial music than jazz. Yet, Moor Mother has reached a point in her career where she can reinterpret pieces like "All The Money" or "God Save The Queen" without seeming derivative, even when compared to artists like Merzbow or Throbbing Gristle.
The live performance, consisting of just 50 minutes of drums played with sticks, electronic devices, small instruments, and Moor Mother's own vocals, was enough to captivate the audience, who showed their appreciation with warm applause at the end. The show began with small electronic sounds and electrified drumsticks, building layer upon layer into an impressive wall of sound. Moor Mother's phrases, such as "how long did it take to pay off the trauma?", echoed with sharpness and precision through the various noise textures, reflecting her time spent with Roscoe Mitchell and the Art Ensemble of Chicago, as well as other free jazz collectives like Irreversible Entanglement.
If I had to nominate some of the best musical moments this year, I would include this Moor Mother concert, along with the new albums by Jason Kao Hwang, Fontaines D.C., and Kim Gordon. However, we still have time before looking back and tracing the lines of musical tendencies for the past year. For me, Moor Mother's live performance in Milan's Triennale was the equivalent of last year's intense and bold concert by Michael Gira's Swans. The difference is that Swans are an institution in the post-punk continuum and among the most important founders of no-wave, giving them the freedom to do as they please. In contrast, Moor Mother and her collaborators are only recognized for their artistic value after the performance, which adds an extra layer of courage to their work.
Live music offers a unique opportunity to test musical theory against practice, allowing us to experience sounds in a communal setting that, while perhaps less comfortable than our homes, enables shared emotional connections and collective enjoyment. Such was the premise of an evening at Milan's Auditorium San Fedele on Monday, October 14.
The event began promisingly in the theater's foyer, where attendees were treated to a pre-concert listening session of Aphex Twin's seminal "Selected Ambient Works 1985-1992" (R&S, 1992). This piece, chosen by audience members through a Facebook poll, served to inaugurate the venue's new speaker system while guests enjoyed wine and conversation.
The evening's first performer, Japanese DJ Wata Igarashi, known internationally for his live sets, unfortunately fell short of expectations. While his ambient compositions demonstrated competent use of dynamics and variations, they offered little beyond what audiences have heard since the genre's emergence in the 1970s. His most noteworthy contribution was the application of aging effects to his sounds – reminiscent of Boards of Canada's more accomplished work on "Geogaddi" (Warp, 2002) – creating a sonic equivalent of a Polaroid filter. However, the overall musical development remained predictable and lacking in innovation.
The evening was redeemed by Drew McDowall, whose performance elevated the proceedings considerably. A veteran of influential groups like Coil and Psychic TV, McDowall presented material from his latest album "A Thread, Silvered and Trembling" (Dais Records, 2024). His setup, combining synthesizers with recorded strings, harp, and flugelhorn, created an extraordinary sonic palette that transcended conventional electronic music boundaries.
McDowall's composition drew inspiration from Scottish funeral melodies contemporary with Carmina Burana, weaving them into a tapestry of drone music and orchestral elements. Performed in complete darkness, his set constructed an immersive soundscape of devotional, crepuscular music that was at once melancholic and powerful. Rather than merely juxtaposing elements, McDowall crafted a cohesive journey into a shadow realm of mystery and introspection, allowing listeners to explore their own inner dimensions.
Looking ahead, the venue will host performances of Eliane Radigue's "Tryptich II" (1979) and Lorenzo Senni's "Canone Infinito Extended" from his latest Warp Records release. Reviews of these performances will follow.
In the ever-evolving landscape of music, the transition from modernity to post-modernity has been marked by groundbreaking shifts in artistic expression. As we celebrate the 150th anniversary of Arnold Schönberg's birth, we're reminded of his pivotal role in shaping contemporary classical music. This past weekend, I had the privilege of attending a concert that not only honored Schönberg but also showcased the rich tapestry of 20th and 21st-century composition.
The Italian Associazione Culturale Secondo Maggio curated an impressive program featuring Schönberg's "Kammersymphonie No. 1 Op. 9". Completed in 1906, this piece stands as a testament to the composer's transition from tonality to dodecaphony. We experienced Anton Webern's 1921-22 arrangement for five instruments, which beautifully captured the essence of Schönberg's original vision while adapting to the practical constraints of smaller ensembles.
The concert opened with Fausto Romitelli's "Domeniche Alla Periferia Dell'Impero" (1996), a composer that boldly experiments with elements of rock and non-classical traditions. Romitelli's composition challenged our perceptions, presenting a sonic landscape that was both magmatic and deliberately unstable.
Two pieces particularly stood out: Goffredo Petrassi's "Tre Per Sette" (1964) and Niccolò Castiglioni's "Gymel" (1960). These works showcased the virtuosity demanded by contemporary classical music and highlighted the influence of Italian flutist Severino Gazzelloni, who also played a crucial role in shaping the American New Thing movement.
As I listened, I couldn't help but draw parallels between the complexity of this music and the intricate world we navigate today. Contemporary classical music doesn't merely mimic historical events; it serves as a form of mental training, helping us cope with the challenges of our reality.
Conversely, composers like Anton Webern, whose "Drei Kleine Stucke op. 11" we heard, anticipated post-post-modernity. These brief, epigrammatic pieces laid the foundation for artists like Morton Feldman, offering moments of respite in our fast-paced lives.
A special mention must go to the Dedalo Ensemble, celebrating their 25th anniversary this year. Their impeccable execution of seven challenging pieces demonstrated not only technical proficiency but also a deep understanding of the genre. The ensemble, featuring Daniela Cima, Silvano Scanziani, Stefano Merighi, Michela Dapretto, Matteo Zurletti (see photo), and Sonia Candellone, under the direction of Mauro Bonifacio, made the sometimes daunting world of contemporary classical music accessible and engaging.
As we consider the importance of experiencing this music live, I'm excited to announce that I'll be attending two performances this Monday. Drew McDonald, formerly of Psychic TV, will present an album blending electronic and acoustic elements. Wata Igarachi, evolving from punk and techno roots, will showcase his instrumental experimental music.
Stay tuned for my review of these upcoming performances, as we continue to explore the diverse and exciting world of contemporary music.
Contemporary classical music has witnessed a significant increase in the use of percussion since the early 20th century. This trend, influenced by various cultural encounters and avant-garde composers, has reshaped the sonic landscape of classical compositions. A recent concert by the Percussion Orchestra Cologne at Milan's Teatro Dal Verme on September 18, 2024, showcased this evolution, presenting works spanning nearly a century of musical innovation.
The integration of diverse percussion instruments in classical music can be traced back to cultural exchanges such as the 1889 Paris Universal Exposition. Here, Claude Debussy's encounter with the Javanese Gamelan profoundly influenced his compositional approach, introducing new timbres and rhythmic complexities to Western classical music.
Concurrently, traditional instruments like the piano saw a radical reimagining of their role. Edgard Varèse's "Ionisation" (1929-1931) exemplifies this shift, employing the piano in a percussive manner with cluster notes played directly with the forearm. This groundbreaking work for 13 percussionists incorporates a vast array of instruments from various cultures, including sirens, gongs, and log drums, expanding the timbral palette available to composers.
The Percussion Orchestra Cologne's rendition of "Ionisation" offered a contemporary interpretation of Varèse's seminal work. While slightly more "swinging" than traditional performances—perhaps a nod to Milan's reputation as the "City of Aperitif"—the execution maintained a commendable balance between elasticity and structural integrity.
This "smart" version, while sacrificing some of the original's dramatic impact, showcased the musicians' remarkable skill in navigating the piece's complex layers. True to Varèse's concept of sounds detaching from one another like parts of an ionized atom, the performance demonstrated that "Ionisation" remains a pivotal work in the percussion repertoire, its influence evident in many subsequent compositions.
The concert also featured two more recent works, illustrating both the enduring influence of mid-20th century innovations and attempts at further experimentation: "Herbstfestival" (1989) by Nicolaus Anton Huber played by Schlagquartett Köln for four percussionists initially evoked the explorative spirit of groups like the Art Ensemble of Chicago. However, it soon transitioned into a prolonged unison section that, while technically impressive, raised questions about its musical necessity.
"Erdenmarsch" (2022) by Fabio Nieder, a student of Witold Lutosławski, that presented a 30-minute work for 13 percussionists. The piece incorporated a wide range of instruments and unconventional sound sources, including live-streamed radio content via iPhone. While dynamically engaging, the work's harmonic palette felt limited. Notable elements included a centrally placed large drum and theatrical interactions between musicians, though these at times seemed superfluous.
The concert underscored the enduring impact of early 20th-century innovations in percussion music. While the performances of more recent works demonstrated technical proficiency, they also highlighted challenges in pushing the boundaries established by earlier masters. The virtuosity of the Percussion Orchestra Cologne was evident throughout, elevating even the less cohesive compositions.
This evening of percussion-focused contemporary classical music, spanning over 80 years of compositional history, offered a compelling, if sometimes uneven, journey through the genre's evolution. It reaffirmed the pioneering spirit of early modernist composers while raising questions about the direction of contemporary classical music in the 21st century.
Born in Lake Forest, Illinois, Jason Kao Hwang's musical odyssey began with classical violin training. However, his eager exploration of jazz and improvised music long before the 1970s set the stage for a career marked by constant evolution and innovation.
Hwang's discography is an expression to his versatility, with each album offering a unique sonic experience. My introduction to his work came through a double CD featuring the supergroup The Commitment, alongside William Parker on bass, Zen Matsuura on drums, and Will Connell Jr. on flute and alto saxophone. In this ensemble, Hwang's improvisational style echoed influences from Leroy Jenkins and Billy Bang while incorporating flavors and techniques from Asian music.
The year 2022 saw the release of "Uncharted Faith" (Blue Coast Music), a collaboration with the late J.A. Deane. This album showcases Hwang's violin and its electronic treatments, creating a genre-defying sound reminiscent of Miles Davis's electric period from 1968 to 1975 in its innovative approach.
The following year, "Book of Stories" (True Sound, 2023) by the Critical Response quartet presented compositions deeply rooted in the New York free jazz scene, yet imbued with a distinct personality.
Given this diverse background, Hwang's latest solo effort, "Soliloquies," came as a delightful surprise. Tracks like "At The Beginning" and "Encirclement" reveal new facets of both the musician and the man.
This work stems from Hwang's desire to engage more deeply with his family history, particularly conversations with his father about their experiences in China during World War II. These musical 'soliloquies' serve as an extension of moments lost to time, preserved through memory and emotion.
Hwang's approach to the violin in "Soliloquies" is transformative, relying heavily on pizzicato techniques that reimagine the instrument's capabilities. Critics have likened his playing to a zither or a talking drum, highlighting the innovative nature of his performance.
The music defies simple categorization, weaving together Eastern and Western influences in a tapestry of sound that requires multiple listens to be fully appreciated. It's a testament to Hwang's ability to seamlessly blend diverse cultural and musical traditions.
"Soliloquies" stands as one of the most powerful musical and creative acts in recent years. Its deeply personal nature and unique sound recall Audrey Chen's "Runt Vigor" (Karlrecords, 2018) in its compelling individuality. This album represents a potential new direction for improvised music, challenging listeners to expand their musical horizons.
Jason Kao Hwang, who has collaborated with luminaries such as Anthony Braxton, Billy Bang, Butch Morris, Reggie Workman, and Henry Threadgill, has undoubtedly earned his place as a maestro in his own right. While his multifaceted career may defy easy categorization, time will likely cement his status as a pivotal figure in improvised music.
As his recent works demonstrate, Hwang continues to push boundaries and explore new territories. His career trajectory suggests exciting developments for the field of improvised music in the years to come, offering hope and inspiration for musicians and listeners alike.
Massimo Zamboni, guitarist of CCCP Fedeli alla Linea, and his bandmates have resurfaced after nearly two decades with a reunion in 2024. While they haven't released new compositions, they've offered fans the ultimate live experience following an exhibition in Reggio Emilia, albeit at a premium price.
CCCP Fedeli alla Linea, though perhaps not the most innovative post-punk band in Italy (a title arguably belonging to Gaznevada), was undoubtedly the most captivating to audiences. Their references to Cold War-era Communism in the Western world positioned them as the quintessential anti-establishment voice for many young people.
The album under review, "Altro Che Nuovo Nuovo" (Universal, 2024), captures CCCP's first public live performance from 1983 in Reggio Emilia. This release offers several intriguing aspects: it features a live drummer instead of the drum machine that would later become their signature sound, and includes previously unreleased material, such as a cover of D.A.F.'s "Kebab Träume," the unheard tracks "Onde" and "Sexy Soviet," and early versions of songs that would be reworked in later years.
While the live drums occasionally struggle to keep pace with the guitar lines, explaining the band's future shift to electronic percussions, these imperfections don't significantly detract from the listening experience.
CCCP Fedeli alla Linea has faced criticism for prioritizing financial gain over artistic principles, evidenced by high reunion ticket prices and their signing with a multinational label in 1986. This situation draws parallels to Joe Strummer's experience with The Clash, though Italy lacked an alternative like Crass.
Unlike Strummer, CCCP's lead singer Giovanni Lindo Ferretti has, in recent years, embraced Christianity and adopted a stance reminiscent of Morrissey. However, it's important to note that CCCP's early works, particularly their first two EPs ("Ortodossia I" and "II") and debut album ("Affinità/Divergenze"), provide an authentic snapshot of Italy's counterculture during that era.
With CCCP's entire discography now reissued and remastered, "Altro Che Nuovo Nuovo" serves as an excellent entry point for post-punk enthusiasts looking to explore scenes beyond the US and UK. This live album offers a glimpse into a past that continues to resonate, as evidenced by the current resurgence of post-punk bands, underscoring CCCP's enduring influence.
Fontaines D.C.'s fourth album, "Romance," marks a triumphant evolution for the Irish post-punk band. Released under XL Recordings, this record stands as potentially their finest work to date, showcasing them at the peak of their creative powers.
Initially, one might draw parallels to Idles' recent release "Tangk" (Partisan Records, 2024). Both albums explore themes of love—an atypical subject for post-punk groups historically rooted in social critique. However, "Romance" transcends simple comparisons, carving its own distinct path.
What sets "Romance" apart is its ambitious sonic palette. The band ventures beyond their usual instrumentation, incorporating piano, Mellotron, Minimoog and Ring Modulators. These elements, combined with collaborations featuring a string quartet on tracks like "Desire," "In The Modern World," "Starbuster," and "Horseness Is the Whatness," create a rich, textured soundscape.
Producer James Ford (Arctic Monkeys, Blur, Depeche Mode) lends his expertise, resulting in complex arrangements that elevate the album. The influence of classic British pop and even The Beatles can be heard, pushing Fontaines D.C. into new territory while maintaining their core identity.
While love is a central theme, "Romance" offers more than simple ballads. "Starbuster," the lead single, delves into the experience of panic attacks. The album also serves as a tribute to recently departed Irish music icons Sinéad O'Connor and Shane MacGowan, acknowledging artists who embodied punk's spirit of authenticity and defiance.
What's remarkable about "Romance" is how organic this transformation feels. Rather than a calculated move to avoid criticism of stagnation, the album radiates with genuine artistic growth. The band's commitment to their craft is evident in every track, resulting in one of the year's most captivating listening experiences.
"Romance" represents a significant milestone in Fontaines D.C.'s career. It demonstrates their ability to push boundaries while staying true to their ethos. The album's booklet photos capture a band revelling in their artistic journey, mirroring the listener's enjoyment. With this release, Fontaines D.C. have not only created their best work to date but have also laid an exciting foundation for future musical explorations.
A return to spirituality in jazz was clearly tangible since Eric Mingus, Charles’ son, released a record titled "Too Many Bullets, Not Enough Souls” (2002 Some Records, re-released in 2021 by Zoar Records). The collaborator of Elliott Sharp (who also produced this album), Hal Willner, Karen Mantler and many others, was clearly pointing out what we were missing at that point in history.
The duty of a spiritual jazz, or of a spiritual crossover between genres, was taken more recently on the shoulder of musicians such the late great Jaimie Branch and of Kamasi Washington, that few months ago released this interesting LP titled “Fearless Movement” (2024, Young). The album opens with an invocation to God both in English and in an ancient Ethiopian language. But it’s the tone of Washington saxophone that sometimes makes you think of a spiritual musician such as Pharoah Sanders.
Clearly Kamasi Washington is not a copycat, his style is evidently his own, but there is something in his attempts to launch ‘that’ cry over the obstacles that in a way reminds us of John Coltrane’s pupil, exactly as the beginning of this record can remind us of many Coltrane’s moments on records such as the beginning of Om, or of Kulu Sé Mama. And even if Washington’s eloquence on saxophone is more linear than Sanders’, nonetheless his approach is similar, being a clear spiritual invocation.
“Lesanu”, the first track on the album, is clearly devoted to the Aethiopian music of Getatchew Mekurya, Mulatu Astatké and similar masters of ethio-jazz. Sometimes featuring horns speaking in tongues, sometimes featuring keyboard passages or tenor solos, the piece is possibly a prayer, an attempt to create a ‘new song’ for God and so it is a manifesto, as if Kamasi Washington were saying is music is ‘new music’, a new mix between jazz, hip hop, soul, and music to dance with, more than an intellectual experience. Anyway, we’ll see.
In an interview Washington recalled his aunt who was babysitting him and his brother making them dance, and if this is the idea underlying all the album, another recollection from the childhood is the second track “Asha The First”, whose melody was created by Washington’s daughter while experimenting at the piano. The little girl is present also on the cover of the album along with his dad. The song is immersed in a 1970s atmosphere but featuring singing and rapping by Thundercat, Taj and Ras Austin, and a beautiful electric bass solo that is an homage possibly to Stanley Clarke.
And if “Computer Love” is a cover of the soul combo The Zapp, from their fourth album “The New Zapp IV U”, “The Visionary” is a less common group improvisation just before “Get Lit”, a mid-tempo featuring the soulful voice of George Clinton and that of a younger but incisive D Smoke. “Dream State”, featuring André 3000 on flutes, has this short psychedelic intro before a small alto saxophone solo who introduces the song with a gentle touch. Washington shows us his expressive ductility at alto before the drums start signing the temperature of this song, calm but decidedly syncopated.
Finally, “Together” and “The Garden Path” close the first LP with an intriguing ballad with BJ The Chicago Kid at the voice and a hymn full of wah-wah guitars, choirs, and horn solos. At this point one might wonder about his own experience as a listener before passing to the second LP, even because the music is full of references to the past decades of the African-American music history, and you can also ask yourself if it all has a value nowadays in this returning. Obviously Kamasi Washington, his octet and entourage are searching for a commercial affirmation but there’s something original in this music or it is only a good summary of the past glories?
I know it is a strange question nowadays that everything of value has a strong tie with the past, but obviously we want to understand if what we’re listening to is in a way a small step ahead or if it is a mere reproduction of the past. Maybe the second LP can be of help for us? Let’s give it a try. “Interstellar Peace”, with its almost Coltrane-inspired title, is another piano melody with the horns creating a small hymnodic and melancholic choir before some trumpet and saxophone intense solos.
Then it’s time for “Road To Self (KO)”, with his almost minimalistic keyboards intro before a piano melody surrounded by the horns, while the drums depict a circular rhythm, leaving us with the feeling that this is not a record of solos emerging from a given structure, as in (too?) many jazz records, but an attempt to create a sonic landscape full of different meanings. One can appreciate pieces like this more than the others, as it happens to the writer of this review, but that’s it.
“Lines in the Sand” is another ballad where you can appreciate both the foreground and the background, the vocal melody and the horns’ countermelody, in a quiet atmosphere, with only one question in mind: what if these pieces were shorter and less complicated by solos? In a way, if I remember well, Albert Ayler’s “New Grass” was an album containing pieces from 3 to 5 minutes, and it worked well even if it was accused to be a commercial album.
Sometimes longer structures, like pieces of 12 minutes, aren’t paying well if they’re not able to convey tensions and releases in an intriguing way. Being too much redundant is the defect I can find in this music. Things go a little worse with the last “Prologue”, an homage to a beautiful melody by Astor Piazzolla where you can listen to all the weaknesses of the arrangements by Kamasi Washington.
In this piece you can find that ‘Seventies touch’ as something little bit out of time. This effect is propagating during the listening to all the album. But there is a sincerity in the music of Washington that is something I want to save. So in the end, all we can do is waiting for future releases and hope in a more contemporaneity of arrangements and of inspiration.
Spirituality is good, and since I’m reading Sun Ra biography by John F. Szwed in these days I can say it’s also something that has precious roots, but it must become a personal quest, otherwise the risk is that of following the leaders’ principles instead of becoming truly yourself. And what can be applied to spirituality, can also be applied to music. Washington is a musician coming from a noble tradition and with a personal touch as an instrumentalist, but he needs to rejuvenate some arrangements and/or become less verbose.
For the moment this album is something worth listening, as it is also last year output by Jaimie Branch “Fly Or Die Fly Or Die Fly Or Die (Word War)” (International Anthem, 2023), but everyone has to understand that the sound of music defines an era, and we can’t really take back the past in the present times. We have to move forward, defining this era with music for our times. This is unluckily not what happens with this album, and it’s a pity because the source of inspiration is original, and the musicians involved are great. But being contemporaneous, for an artist, is not optional.
There are albums or pieces of music that must arrive at the right time to touch your heart. That's why, even though I've known about this music for a couple of months, I decided to write about it only today. "Why" is a short but compelling title. It challenges listeners to think beyond conventional boundaries, immersing them in the flux of past and present while transcending societal norms. In essence, it embodies what every piece of improvised music should aspire to achieve.
Joel Futterman, like William Parker, is a veteran of free jazz. Born in Chicago in 1946, Futterman was influenced by Clarence Eugene Shaw, a trumpeter and student of Gurdjieff's Fourth Way. Musically, Futterman was a devoted student of Coltrane, Dolphy, and Monk. One striking aspect of his style is that, while sounding contemporary, his melodic approach—even when pointillistic and abstract—sets him apart from Cecil Taylor and other contemporary piano masters.
It has often been said that Taylor played the piano as if it were a drum set. Futterman, however, plays the piano as if all these techniques, borrowed from Monk, Cage, and others, were honed to fit his own unique vision. After playing in Chicago from 1964 to 1969, the pianist moved to Virginia Beach in 1972. His first album as a leader was released in 1979, and his many collaborators have included Jimmy Lyons and Richard Davis.
Following a period of musical inactivity, Futterman returned to collaborate with various artists, including Kidd Jordan and Alvin Fielder. It's not surprising to see him playing in this set with William Parker, who, after a period of playing with musicians of his own generation in the supergroup The Commitment, began collaborating with veterans like Cecil Taylor and Peter Brötzmann. Listening to the "Why" album, it's clear that Futterman and Parker fit together remarkably well.
I've mentioned pointillism, and indeed, Futterman's style of attacking with short phrases and notes, their effect prolonged through subsequent phrases, matches perfectly with Parker's bass playing, both plucked and bowed. There are moments when their interplay is almost telepathic (as it should always be in this music), and you can sense that the two are playing after dismissing all rational thoughts and practices, relying instead on intuition and more emotional skills.
I'm not sure how familiar you are with Gurdjieff and his 'Fourth Way.' One of his most important statements is that we tend to love as we count, using our rational mind. However, he proposes a new way—the fourth—in which we can learn to be different, more complete human beings. In this sense, love, like art, is both a territory in which to enjoy this new self and a doorway to it.
Even the most skeptical listeners can appreciate this music and be captivated by the beauty and density of this dialogue. While Parker, playing with Taylor and English drummer Tony Oxley in the so-called "Feel Trio," was accustomed to playing independently from the other musicians, here the 'interdependence' between the two musicians is clearly enjoyable.
I've recently listened to many free improvisation albums that have both highlights and lowlights, but this album consists entirely of 'highs.' Therefore, I wholeheartedly advise listeners to experience and enjoy it in its entirety. "Why" is not just an album; it's a journey into the depths of musical intuition and emotional resonance.
It is strange and difficult to present an Italian artist to an English-speaking audience. If the last records of Fabrizio De André can be appealing for those of you who are into ethnic music, as an example, a genre he practiced way before the label has been instituted, his first albums are mostly, even if not exclusively, collections of ballads for voice and acoustic guitar. For those of you that don’t understand his language, such a listening can be challenging.
Anyway, long story short: Sony Music is re-releasing this year the entire catalogue of De André, from his very first songs collected in Vol. 1 (Sony, 2024) until his last masterpiece Anime Salve (still to be re-released). For those who know nothing about Faber – as he was called after his friend and actor Paolo Villaggio – Fabrizio De André is a singer whose work can be compared to that of U.S. songwriters such as Bob Dylan and Tom Waits, without the risk of looking ridiculous.
De André himself translated in Italian Desolation Row and Romance in Durango – he was greeted with cheers by Dylan himself for translating the latter – to testify a deep link with the U.S. songwriting tradition. Moreover, he was inspired for his album Storia di un Impiegato (Sony, 2024) by the beat poet Gregory Corso, while for Tutti Morimmo a Stento (Sony, 2024), maybe the first concept album released in my country originally in 1970, his source of inspiration was the album Days of Future Passed (1967) by The Moody Blues.
Tutti Morimmo a Stento, De André first proper album after a collection of singles, deals with topics like death and sorrow: drug addiction – De André himself was an alcoholic, so the song is partially autobiographical - paedophilia, war, are only some of the subjects touched by the songwriter. The album, co-credited to Gianfranco and Gian Piero Reverberi, Riccardo Mannerini and Giuseppe Bentivoglio, is the starting point for future collaborations of De André with other artists.
If, in fact, Dylan wrote by himself all his material, Tom Waits started collaborating with his wife Cathleen Brennan after 1981 and similarly Fabrizio De André always co-created his music with other people. Someone used this habit of him to suggest De André wasn’t a proper creator, needing always other artists to rely on. But in fact, sharing creativity can be a great way not to let yourself stagnate, even because De André always greeted his co-authors openly.
Another album you might want to listen to, in these new editions, is for certainly, between the LPs still reissued, Non al Denaro, Non all’Amore Né al Cielo (Sony, 2024), inspired by Edgard Lee Master’s Anthology of Spoon River, a book translated in Italy by Fernanda Pivano, who was also a Jack Kerouac’s friend, gifted to De André by his first wife Enrica Rignon. The singer was so hit by the collections of poems that he wanted to create an album of songs from the book.
In this album the pivotal figure, between dwarfs who study as to become judges in order to finally get respect, chemists who refuse to die for love and die for strange experiments, musicians who will play for all their entire lives and blasphemers who refuse to get down on their knees for an invented God, is the guy with a sick heart who dies giving his love his first kiss, a symbol of courage and of the importance of love even above the preservation of life.
Co-written with Nicola Piovani, the album is one of the most theatrical in De André’s collection. In between there are the pure collections of songs like Vol. 1, Vol. 3, Canzoni, where the singer, as the above-mentioned Tom Waits, sings of people who lives by the wrong side of the road: prostitutes, little thieves, and all this universe of people De André was going to hang out with during his formative years in Genoa, his hometown, even if he was middle class.
Perfectly remastered – even if the previous 2002 editions were sounding great also, thanks to a 24 bit processing – and packaged in a slightly greater than the usual format if you buy CDs, while the LP have the usual dimensions, the albums are accompanied with a small booklet full of notes from De André diaries and interviews. If you love the U.S. musicians I mentioned in this article before, it would be a shame that these songs don’t touch your sensibility.
Fabrizio de André was an anarchist also, a true one, an intellectual who all of his life tried to be independent – he gave life to a farm in Sardinia in order to write only the songs he really wanted to, instead of commercial successes – but even if far from stardom he was appreciated by most famous musicians like the pop singer Mina, who covered his song La Canzone di Marinella, dedicated to a dead prostitute.
Possibly an anomaly in our cultural panorama, even if perfectly inserted in a small number of ‘songwriters’, Fabrizio De André later will experiment with ethnic instruments and structures, but maybe we will dedicate another article to him at the end of the year, when the planned re-releases will be fully available. For the moment I have given you advice of at least a couple of albums of him to fully enjoy.
I have a deep respect for Johnny Cash. Not only he was one of the greatest songwriters of the American songbook, not only he has been also a collaborator of musicians such as Bob Dylan. He was also an interesting human being, even though controversial for many. For a long period a fervent Christian – “I’d rather know you hooked by heroin than hooked by Curch” told him some of his collaborators and close friends during those years – he, as an example, recorded a live album in the Folsom Prison, bringing some sparkles of truth with his music to the hosts of the prison.
Honest and true to himself, Johnny Cash was able to put everything he encountered – faith, the good and the evil, the ghosts of depression, the joy of love – into his music at a level that is quite impossible for another less empathic and self-centered, in the best sense of the word, artist. After an out of focus period during the 1980s, thanks to Rick Rubin who had the great idea to let him play with basically only his voice and an acoustic guitar for many albums, Cash had another period of splendour during all the 1990s until his death.
In his American Recordings series Johnny Cash released such beautiful and intense songs as Will Oldham’s I See a Darkness, Trent Reznor’s Hurt, Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus, obtaining great results from the works of the greatest artists of those years, sometimes pairing, sometimes going far beyond the originals in terms of intensity and interpretation. For all those reasons, I was quite curious of hearing the thirty minutes of music conveyed into this new, posthumous, The Songwriter.
To tell the truth, almost everything is in its right place: the voice, the guitar, the hosts, like June Carter Cash or Dan Auerbach from The Black Keys, the many instruments that give shape to the music accompanying the vision of their author. But not everything is all right. To tell the truth, this collection of songs lacks coherence and a proper project. Everyone can hear that songs like Soldier Boy, Drive On – the more emotional, Poor Valley Girl are disposed the one after the other without a vision or a sense of togetherness.
Recorded just a few time before the collaboration with Rick Rubin started giving life to albums where you can feel a narrative sense even if the single songs are different the one from the other, the songs on The Songwriter, that can also be found as charming per se, don’t give life to a proper album to tell you the truth. A nice companion for a proper Lp, as a second disc of outtakes, sold as a ‘new’ proper album of unedited material it doesn’t make a great sense at all.
A similar operation to Montage of Heck, a project dedicated to some demos Kurt Cobain recorded at home and then published for mere exploitation, even if these Cash songs are well produced, refined, and feature many musicians – the list is impressing – cooperating to give life to a vibrant new album, the result is in my opinion similarly scarce. Obviously you’ll find some greatness sparks, but this is not the point …
Nemu is becoming, more and more, an intriguing label, a point of reference for those who are interested in knowing new artists coming from the world of improvisation but willing to listen to stuff less conditioned by the need of an easy listening as more emblazoned artists. In fact, I cannot get why many reviewers are praising some musicians, who are now becoming famous, even if in their music composition and improvisation are not really tied up.
In listening to some albums that are acclaimed In these last months or even years, I can significantly find out a decreasing in that adventurous practice that is improvisation. There are musicians that gain important prizes and that don’t solo for an entire piece or an album. Let’s not call jazz this music. It can be even beautiful music – even if I find it boring for the most part – but it’s not jazz, even if it’s part of the African-American continuum and deserve to be respected – in fact as a critic part of my job is taking act where the music is going.
Now, I finally had the opportunity, instead, to enjoy an album by a quartet of musicians that in 2019 took the stage of the FreeJazzSaar festival in Saarbrucken, Germany, to substitute Charles Gayle, who has unexpectedly fallen ill. The set is very energetic from the first note, and the musicians involved show a mastery as individual players as much as a collective, as a group.
Frank Paul Schubert, who here plays alto and soprano saxophones, started playing as a self-taught musician in 1982 (being born in 1965). Between the many musicians he was involved with, you’ll be probably familiar with Alexander Von Schlippenbach and Johannes Bauer. Active with different projects like duos, quartets, etc., Schubert has a more contemporary style (as an example) on alto than his likewise references.
Seemingly a contemporary musician can be defined Michel Pilz at bass clarinet. Differently from Eric Dolphy, just to name one, Pilz is less ‘cubist’ and anchored to tradition at the same time, as we exposed reviewing Incarnations by Mingus few days ago, but he is a proper virtuoso in his own right and his style fit perfectly with that of his partners. Devotee performer accompanied by the likes of Manfred Schoof and Michel Portal, he sadly passed away in 2023, so this record is also a beautiful occasion to pay him an homage.
Stephan Scheib, first an electric bass player, switched on acoustic bass becoming a well renowned improviser and composer. Founder in 1987 of the Liquid Penguin Ensemble, he is devoted to mixing different forms of art, like dance, theatre, and visual arts with music. Prized with his works for radio, here in this record you can find him texturing all the music with a particular grace but also engaged in a virtuosic solo.
Finally, drummer Klaus Kugel, active with Carl Berger, Charlie Mariano, Thomasz Stanko, Ken Carter, Kenny Wheeler, Sabir Mateen and many others is a drummer whose melodic elements and the percussive one are shared with mastery for all the recording, that features a 43 minutes long group improvisation plus a couple of encores. Hymnodic and dense as we expect this music at his best – I think about the ‘music from the lofts’ – it is one of the albums you can’t miss this year.
I’m happy to listen to music like this, since possibly Germany, as other countries like Portugal, about which we’ll talk in the future, is finally producing some music worth of the brilliant past of this genre. In fact, this album contains timeless compositions and improvisations, the genre I bet we’ll listen to in the future years not thinking about the greater progress in the art of jazz but nonetheless with the desire to look for more or this.
Candid Records was a notorious label founded in 1960 that, in more than six months of existence, released about 30 records. And what records: between them, the here reviewed Charles Mingus Presents Charles Mingus, the other masterpiece We Insist! Freedom Now Suite by Max Roach, albums by Steve Lacy, Cecil Taylor, Eric Dolphy, records of blues and more.
After planning some reissues last year, this Incarnations was published last November 2023 for Record Store Day, but then it was re-released both on CD (for the first time) and vinyl this year 2024. The album consists of 5 compositions recorded in October 20 and November 11, 1960, at Nola Penthouse Studios in New York, and they feature musicians such as Eric Dolphy on alto saxophone and bass clarinet, Paul Bley on piano, Dannie Richmond and Jo Jones on drums between the others.
Far from the violent expressionism of the sessions we were accustomed thanks to the still mentioned Presents album, the music here collected is mostly gentler and sweeter, even if more excited moments are also present. One of the reasons of interest of this album is the presence in these sessions of such diverse musicians as the avant-gardist Dolphy and Roy Eldridge, who was tied directly to the swing era.
But let’s start from the beginning. The Lp presents as first Mingus’ composition Bugs, an 8 minutes tour the force with solos by Charles McPherson on alto, Booker Ervin on tenor and Lonnie Hillyer on trumpet. Paul Bley here is more than a mere accompanist, and his solo take place after Mcpherson’s filling the room with both his hands and creating a nice contrast between lower and upper registries before Ervin statement.
Differently from Hillyer’s, Roy Eldridge’s trumpet on R&R, one of his own compositions, is muted. Subtly nuanced and accompanied through the melody exposition by Dolphy’s alto, his solo is sometimes scratchy and mostly anchored to the jazz tradition. It seems appropriate choice for Mingus to introduce trombonist Jimmy Knepper after Dolphy’s solo, just to widen the colors of this execution.
Dolphy here is coherent with what the music requires, since his raucous and oblique style is way more consistent with the ‘old’ style, a lesson that the devotees of tradition are in need of relearning, instead of polishing and refining something that was full of ironic statements and near the colloquial eloquence of the old blues/swing era.
Mingus finally can also cut out for himself the right space for a solo introducing again Eldridge, finally free to express himself without the damper: it is his turn to show how modern his solutions can be. Dolphy and Knepper agree with few statements before an enthusiastic ‘tutti’.
All The Things You Are (All) opens with a unison between the arcoed bass and Knepper and Woodman trombones, before leaving space to an ensemble work that was typical of the 1950s Mingus’ works. Interestingly enough, Mingus introduces the track with a speech in which he explain to have added the ‘All’ to the title in order to get the royalties he deserves as arranger of the composition.
Reincarnation of a Lovebird (2nd Version) is opened by a piano intro by Paul Bley embellished by Dannie Richmond snare drums. Differently from the most famous version o the album The Clown (Atlantic, 1960) here we have a more expressionistic rendition, with the slow section more stretched and a swinging section more thrilling.
The album closes with a Body and Soul that is structured as the previous piece, with Dolphy soloing on alto followed by Jimmy Knepper and Britt Woodman on trombones, Bley on piano, Ted Curson and Hillyer on trumpets. With All The Things You Are as the only true unreleased composition, this album is nonetheless an important document of how the music of Mingus was multi-faceted, with one ear rooted in the tradition and the other pushed into the future.
For those who want more, I know there is a boxset somewhere, released in 1989 on Mosaic, featuring all the bassist releases for Candid Records. Mingus’ music won’t cease to give surprises to those who will come close to it. Musicians like Dolphy, Richmond, Bley, Curson, and all the bass player’s cohort will amaze you with their inventiveness and musical mastery.
One of the most praised bands of the 1980s and 1990s by the likes of Kurt Cobain – you can find three of their compositions covered by Nirvana in the beautiful album Unplugged in New York (DGC, 1994) – Meat Puppet, from Arizona, have always been a peculiar band difficult to classify, to put into a box, even if they basically created a bridge between hard rock and psychedelia (in the terms of her less polite son: acid rock).
The reissues of their back catalogue from the beginning to 1989 started last year and since this February we had the possibility to listen again to a masterpiece like Meat Puppets II (Megaforce, 2024) originally released in 1984. While enjoying this album, one wonders how it could have been approached by a contemporary fan or even by a casual listener back then.
Meat Puppets II has few hardcore punk moments – and sometimes they are mixed with other worlds such as in Teenager(s) – while for the rest you can listen to ragged country as in Plateau, or more intimate moments like Lake of Fire. Some critics have compared Curt and Chris Kirkwood creature to Holy Modal Rounders and Grateful Dead in the past years.
Far from the stardom of more clearly recognizable groups, Meat Puppets have always opted for their creativity in full instead of giving to the public what they were supposed to want – net of some albums more refined in terms of sound – and they have paid becoming a ‘cult’ band, a well kept secret between fans and musicians, more than a commercial successful rock band.
In a way, it is correct to find in them, as it happened, some prodrome of grunge, since their freedom of expression and their will to go beyond the categories, and their being in a way a revival of genres at their peak during the 1960s and 1970s is coherently in line of the characteristics of bands like Pearl Jam, Soundgarden and Screaming Trees.
And if in tracks like What To Do Meat Puppets are able to fuck around with style, in the best rock tradition – think about the lyrics of Arnold Layne by Pink Floyd – the project of the band, whose records in those times were released by the label SST as it happened to Minutemen and Dinosaur Jr, was solid and devoted to variety from the very beginning.
Mirage (Megaforce 2024), originally released in 1987, marks a first shift into a more easy to listen music, becoming more abstract and full of nuances thanks to Curt Kirkwood’s chisel work with his own, mostly acoustic, guitars. This was an era in which many bands coming from subcultures understood they had no possibility of surviving if they wouldn’t clean up and refine their sound, becoming more commercial.
Meat Puppets followed this trend, with pieces like Quit It. Another term of comparison for the band in these years was not only Jerry Garcia but also Neil Young, meaning that the Kirkwood brothers were not only well refined instrumentalists but also nice composers, firmly anchored to the tradition of rock songwriting.
Country and folk elements are still audible as in Confusion Fog, and will become preeminent also in the future albums of the band. And if in I’m a Machine Meat Puppets break into an attempt to give life to funky oriented music, in A Hundred Miles they present themselves as anti-heroes, with more doubts than pillars in which to believe.
As previous re-releases by Rykodisc in 1999, even this new prints present extra tracks (after a Liquified that seem like Devo from the Freedom of Choice era) like, in this case, the demos for The Mighty Zero, I Am a Machine, the same Liquified, Rubbernecking’ and Grand Intro. More openly melancholic than the previous releases, Mirage is in the end the perfect predecessor for the following Monsters, originally released by SST in 1989.
Monsters is for Meat Puppets an attempt to create a music with a commercial appeal but full of details coming from the alternative world. It can be considered a pair to Neil Young’s Trans, in a way. Attacked by Monsters, the fist track, seems like Alice in Chains becoming synthetic, with electronic drums and synthesized guitars. Compositions are longer now, reaching six minutes each with The Void and Touchdown King.
Strange as it can seem nowadays, at the point that such an album can be taken as a pure compromise, one must contextualize this output in the period: the end of the 1980s were years in which all the labels, even the independent ones who mostly were supported by the majors as far as distribution, were heavily asking the musicians to become more commercial.
This isn’t something new in the music business: if John Coltrane had to release an album of ballads and one with a singer before his success with A Love Supreme, why should we be shocked if a rock band in the Reagan era was asked to produce more salable products, even if without selling out completely?
After all, we all know what happened before. We had Nirvana, we had Jeff Buckley, we had pure creativity for a certain amount of time even passed through radios or tv. And never mind if it was mostly a revival of the music from the 1970s: after all we also enjoyed industrial-metal, like NIN, or it was the right time for songwriters like Johnny Cash to resurface.
In a way, without all this music, we wouldn’t had neither post-rock nor some electronic music of pure research like that issued by Raster-Noton, to which many of us came after a short period in which we loved more commercially conscious acts. Without those acts, in effect, none of us would have been prepared to listen to these more adventurous musicians.
Look at the present times, as an example. Not as far as creativity, but as far as broadcasting. We all see what’s missing now, and how much time it will occur to obtain more attention from at least part of the masses for our music. It’s a problem we can’t solve today, nor tomorrow, maybe – maybe – after tomorrow.
Something strange is happening to the music, or is it just me? I’m relistening to the albums that has appeared in this first part of the year, like Kim Gordon’s, Idles’, Wadada Leo Smith’s and Amina Claudine Myers’, and this record I’m about to write by Beth Gibbons; and in all this material I feel as something is missing. Differently than in the cases of Moor Mother and St. Vincent, in listening all this records I hear the lack of a deep drive.
The fact that I’m ok with at least a couple of albums makes me feel comfortable again, but for the rest I can tell that 2024 is becoming maybe a pivotal year. All the Lps I have mentioned are good albums, nonetheless I’m not completely at ease or satisfied when I end listening to them. And this is strange above all in this case, because Live Outgrown is, in theory, the exact record I wanted to hear from Beth Orton.
Arcoed saws, found objects used as percussions, and then guitars, violins, keyboards and drums, every instrument used to create that peculiar sound which, united to the others, give life to a particular soundscape. I have also found interesting the live renditions at the show ‘Later With Jools Holland’ that you can find on the internet, but I can’t help but feel as I was referring to before.
Tracks like the dramatic Reaching Out, the intense and embellished with distorted horns Beyond The Sun, the reflective Burden of Life, a Lost Changes that seem an outtake from Portishead’s first album but with a different, less hip hop arrangement, are all well written and excellent pieces, just to name a few. The arrangements are chiselled with attention and sensitivity.
Lyrics also are intense and only apparently simple, while in effect they deal with becoming older, with the metamorphoses of the soul when the body makes resistance, with the loss of friends and the perspective of death, but again, everything in these songs written in an entire decade are too much contained, quiet, you miss possibly that scratch coming from outside of art and music, from reality, as you can find in the paintings of Bacon or … in the old Portishead albums.
I just know that for many this album, as the others not completely satisfactory to me I’ ve quoted, will be held high as best releases of the year by so many people, but this is more music that will make me think – about the evolution of music itself and the lack of reference to real life through sound and how it is organised, not through lyrics or the meaning of the songs themselves – than music I’ll listen to enjoy.
It is strange to me, in fact, that nobody is observing this lack of a link between this music, the one released this year, and our lives – the ‘scratch’ I was referring to is exactly this: something that through its imperfections open a door leaving the real life enter the art organised in sound – and even though I still need to understand why this is happening, I feel like music is becoming more and more self-referential and less as a medium to get in touch with the real self of the artist or of the audience.
Possibly, I think, in the exact moment I’m writing, this is the key I wanted to find. What if the artists, subconsciously speaking, were in this moment afraid of opening themselves to us, since most of us are hipsters that feel the call of something more real than the bourgeois life but want only the smell of this ‘something’, without having filthy hands for it?
Being an artist requires an open mind and an open heart, and an artist is also a medium, someone who tries to create a connection between people and a deeper reality than society allow us to see, free from safeties and from injustices of civilized life. But what if we as persons are not willing to connect to the artists anymore? Will they stand naked in front of us, metaphorically speaking, while we’re on our feet with all our clothes and barriers on?
No. It is an impossible and unbearable situation I believe. So, unhappy as I am to have written a review in which I’ve given Beth Gibbons, an artist I love, a vote that is only a little more than sufficient, as it is for all the records I mentioned above, after months from their release, I must acknowledge all of this and give it back to you, my readers. I don’t see a bright future for our music, but I’d love to be answered back by a bunch of new great discs or concerts in the next months. For the moment, I’d love you to meditate about my warnings.
The problem is not “we’re too bourgeois”. I’m not referring to the quantity of money we own. The problem is we’re too busy with the occurrences of our lives – society wants us this way, so we will not disturb the rich – and we’re not keen on making new experiences and taking new risks, unless these of a career. But life is not the things we own, etcetera. It is difficult not to moralize, but we don’t have that much time, nor that much music to listen to anymore.
Every time I hear of read about an artist such as Annie Clark – but it was the same with Beck Hansen during the 1990s – defined as ‘indefinable’, ‘elusive’ or one that doesn’t take into great account well refined identities, I usually think that, even outside of the box of postmodernism, this position is a great deal. In effect, having a persona that doesn’t correspond to your real self, or having your real self hidden, is something good for an artist.
I still remember an old, odd interview with Tom Waits in which the journalist – you can find this interview in the book Tom Waits on Tom Waits: Interviews and Encounters, edited by Paul Maher, Jr. (Chicago Review Press, 2011) in the chapter dedicated to the album Foreign Affairs (Asylum, 1977) – was, in his own words, unable to separate the persona from the real person, and Waits had to pass all the interview telling “I am not a drunkard”, basically. Strange and alienating.
So, when as an example Beck gave to the world the album Sea Change (Geffen, 2002) in which he was releasing custom love songs for the first time – even if some of these songs, like Paper Tiger, were heavily quoting Serge Gainsboug’s Histoire de Melody Nelson, and so once again far from a true ‘confession’ of personal feelings, that was enough to make his creativity loose part of its glaze, as anyone can listen from Guero (Interscope, 2005) on.
Strange as it can seem, the curse of having your own butterfly wings pin-pierced, just to use an expression Fernanda Pivano utilized to describe what Bob Dylan tried to avoid in all of his career, is something true. After all, this is something each one of us has experienced at least once in the era of the social networks. If you give all yourself to the world indiscriminately, you feel emptied, sooner or later.
I don’t know if people is obsessed by who the ‘real’ Annie Clark is – at least as far as I’m reading through reviews in my own country - because they’re bored or because they cultivate the secret desire to see another myth burning or falling; anyway, at least listening to her last effort All Born Screaming, the risk is avoided with great majesty and artistry.
All Born Screaming is an album of sui generis ‘pop’ songs – Clark’s technique is more that of drying her sources of inspiration, in this case industrial music as she herself expressed to the world in an Instagram post where you can find all the musicians she took inspiration from, from Throbbing Gristle to Nine Inch Nails, giving life to an expression of her own.
Obviously, you can find such diverse influences or better said assonances with the Byrds and David Bowie (Hell is Near), NIN (Broken Man), Bjork (Big Time Nothing), but at a first listening you’ll find yourself tied into a personal expression, artistically speaking. Ah, not the mention the fact that Clark, collaborator of such diverse artists as David Byrne and Taylor Swift, this time features at least Dave Grohl on drums in the track titled Flea.
In the end, more than an album of industrial pop, All Born Screaming is a collection of songs whose common ground is the desire to experiment and see how far you can go from your own perspective not renouncing to the pleasure of landing in different territories. And for once, who cares about who the ‘real Annie Clark’, who the ‘real personality of the artist’ is … after all, who is able to define him or herself? And so, why do we have to give artists such a thankless task?
Despite the recent good albums I had the opportunity to listen to featuring trumpet player and composer Wadada Leo Smith, like Andrew Cyrille’s Lebroba (ECM, 2018), I have read contrasting opinions about his last efforts. As far as it seems he was not so brilliant in a series of concerts the musician held in the U.S.: according to the reviewer, he was too fond on personal clichés, and he was even juxtaposed to James Brandon Lewis, the young guy to take a look at since he was showing, at the contrary, an interesting evolution.
Anyway, the cynic in me concluded that the reviewer was possibly tired of listening to Smith’s music and was enthusiastic about a younger musician. After all, many people got bored after a period if they don’t find the right stimulus. Anyway, finally Wadada Leo Smith, one of the most important composers to sort out of the A.A.C.M., the Chicago’s Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, has released and album in duo with pianist, organist and newly minted NEA Jazz Master – NJM Fellowship is an honour given in the United States to particularly innovative musicians since 1982 – Amina Claudine Myers.
The album is inspired by New York Central Park’s environment, as the title of the album suggests, but there are also compositions dedicated to Albert Ayler and John Lennon. The First composition, Conservatory Garden, opens with Myers’ melancholic meditation. Every note resonates aptly thanks to the great work by former ECM producer Sung Chung, thanks to whom even Smith’s trumpet gain echoes and specific colors as it happens to the piano.
Conservatory Garden is possibly one of the best compositions in jazz I have heard since many years, and it’s worth the price of the album per se. You will listen to a composition of contemporary jazz but with that quality that is sometimes difficult to obtain, since it’s a matter of accents. While listening to it, I can really understand what Smith was telling me ten years ago about connecting the head and the heart.
The trumpeter is more keen on incorporating Miles Davis influence into his own language – in the past Smith claimed to have dreamed of Davis also, to stress the strong connection with him and his language of pauses, silences, and with his almost muezzin-like calls – but it’s the quality of the music itself and the interplay, where each musician is able to dive deep into the emotional motivation of the other, to make the difference.
Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir sees Myers at a Hammond Organ, and since music is a matter of accents, we have a strong emotional shift from the first to this second composition, with melancholy leaving space to an almost subtle spooky feeling. Central Park at Sunset is even a more spacey and meditative, while the harmonic idea is verticalized becoming almost dolphian, even if Smith’s call maintains his spiritual qualities.
When Was is another step into an emotional journey, this time led by the piano only, that laps the territories of New Age – at least, of that part of contemporary music that laps New Age – without falling into it – thanks to some dissonances here and there, mostly in the second part of the composition - but this time I feel I can understand people who dislike this path into classicism. Luckily enough, the second part of the composition – almost a disharmonious fugue – is able to redeem the intentions of Myers.
The Harlem Meer is the most static of the compositions here involved: thanks to a trumpet that is soloing almost unaccompanied, we have the feeling of not being able to sort out of a strange dream. Albert Ayler, a Meditation in Light lives on the contrast between Smith and Myers music and the original evoked, so much thicker and denser. No one expects in the middle of an album like this a changing of the guards, anyway I will limit myself to observe that even Lacy and Waldron in some Black Saint/Soul Note albums were paying homage to Monk underestimating his angularity.
I don’t think Myers and Smith are asking for more attention from a wider audience, I suspect instead that the opportunities given to them by the recording process and output influenced their creativity bringing them to obscure part of the music they could give life to, making it all more monochromatic.
Finally, Imagine, a Mosaic for John Lennon is an even more rarefied, subtle composition. You can feel at a certain point how much Lennon’s efforts to contribute to a more just society are losing their breath, or maybe it’s just me, but up to a certain point I have the feeling the musicians are losing the point, closing at the right time before their music becomes too obvious.
Concluding, I would say that this album features some notable compositions, some of the most interesting in Smith’s and Myers’ careers, mixed with less well realised food for musical reflection. And while I’m meditating whether to look for a physical copy of the album, I’m happy I had the opportunity to introduce this album to my readers. After all, this is possibly not the right time for the perfect album or the complete masterpiece, but if you’re able to find a record with just some gems as in this case, I really believe you’re lucky enough.
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