This is Fafard’s second collaboration with drummer Gavin Harrison – an alumnus of King Crimson and Porcupine Tree – and unsurprisingly Harrison brings a lot of complex rhythmic ideas to bear in their collaboration, but never to the extent of being cloying.

Opener Dark Wind begins with a sumptuous slap bass riff comped by ‘stretched’ phrases on soprano saxophone by Canadian hero Jean-Pierre Zanella, and offers up bold time change choices and overlapping melodies that keep the listener guessing.

Deadpan Euphoria introduces the cellos of Joanna Cieslak and Isidora Filipovic. The cello works here alongside Farfard’s fretless bass and, interestingly, hard pans. The cellos take over low-end bass duties, giving Fafard more room to explore. Harrison’s drumming is impeccably ‘on point’, in terms of driving the composition along at pace.

Vital Information starts off morse code-style motif, with thumping slap bass contrasting with the classical guitar’s thinner tones; the track gets going right from the first bar, and Ally Storch on the violin augments the two main players well with her swooping interjections.

Objective Reality opens with harmonics from Fafard’s bass that will have dogs howling, but the interesting part of the trio mix is Rodrigo Escalona on oboe. The oboe is an instrument I rarely encounter, but here it sits in the middle of the mix and provides a reedier counterpoint to the thick bass and heavy drums that I found surprisingly enjoyable.

It’s evident by this point that Fafard is willing to reach right to the back of the music cupboard to find sounds which might otherwise be overlooked, but which here turn a solid composition into an enjoyable sonic journey.

Spontaneous Plan starts with marimba, piano and bass, creating almost a cine-noir feel, the chopped phrasing and pulsing trumpet and trombones of Dale Devon filling out the mix and adding tones which help the melody soar and swoop with vigour.

Pentalogic Structure has, unsurprisingly, a 5/4 time signature, which creates a degree of insistence that is smoothed out by simple cello strokes from Cieslak and Filipovic over Fafard and Harrison’s descending bass and drums; when the track opens up, the cello/classical bass interplay develops satisfyingly. 

Across nine tracks it’s clear Fafard and Harrison play well off each other, each bringing to the table ideas which spark the other composer into bouts of one-upmanship. As Frasier Crane once famously said in a very different context, “if you’ve got really fine pieces of furniture, it doesn’t matter if they match – they will go together” and create a pleasing whole. Eclectic musical choices in the hands of professionals – as demonstrated on Perpetual Mutations – can indeed create something next level interesting.

Release date: 26 July 2024

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What caught the eye were his collaborators: Peter Erskine (drummer for jazz fusion pioneers Weather Report) and Matthew Garrison (formerly with Weather Report founder Joe Zawinul’s Syndicate). Weather Report shaped the jazz fusion genre and arguably set the standard for what followed, so I was certainly curiously to see what they’d produce.The project also brings in Siggi Baldursson (of The Sugarcubes, former band of Björk) and Einar Scheving on percussion and Eythor Gunnarsson, founder member of one of Iceland’s biggest exports Mezzoforte (a guilt-free ‘guilty pleasure’ of mine) on keyboards. 

The album is unusual, dynamic, almost chaotic at times: it’s definitely attempting to plough a new furrow in the crowded – sometimes unfairly maligned – genre of jazz fusion.

The opening track Dreams of Delphi has echoey trumpets and harmonica (which combine well) over a shuffling rhythm that’s peppy and foot-tap inducing, really pushing the track along at pace. Another element of the JMS sound is vocalist Ragga (no surname provided) whose style – suggestive at times of classical Hindustani singing – Erskine says remind him of Wayne Shorter. While certainly expressive and unusual, I found the drone style a little overpowering on Extra-Polation and other tracks. ITSYAMO is a lively sax-led composition, light and airy, with a summery feel (and here, Ragga’s vocals works well), which switches things up bringing in the keyboards and what sounds like electronic woodwind. 

ReAct opens with just Erskine’s tight drumming – brilliant stuff – and Ragga’s deep vocals leading to a belting refrain, with ethereal keyboard sounds pushing the track to a nice conclusion. 

Ruptures provides a change of pace, with sax and keys floating over minimal percussion and in between more unusual vocals.
Space Pasadena has Erskine using a distinct drum sound (snare with snares off, I guess) that cuts through tremendously and the track itself trips along well, getting interesting when the electronic woodwind joins the melody alongside the saxophone. The band leaves their strongest track – Wild Card – to the end. It’s a great sign off: propulsive drums, Wayne Shorter-ish sax flights of fancy and more weird trumpet sounds.The album was recorded at Floki Studios in the sparse north of the island and there is certainly a rawness to the tracks, all of which came out of a sustained three day jam session. 

The final sound, however, took months of over-dubbing and editing, so it has a collage feel to it which keeps the listener on edge, even though as a result it does lacks the sort of polish that turns a good album into a great one. This free and easy approach is brave and there’s plenty here to get your teeth into. Ultimately, it feels like an album that’s best listened to live, as an experience. It  has its debut at the Reykjavik Arts Festival this weekend.

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Two of the four are by virtue of their age and breadth of career the epitome of ‘super’ – drummer Harvey Mason, one of the most recorded drummers in the world and sticksman in the original Herbie Hancock Headhunters, and sax player Ernie Watts, who’s worked with the Rolling Stones and Charlie Haden among many others. Both were introduced as two of the most recorded jazz artists of the modern era.

Beside them were two relative striplings: Niels Lan Doky, brother of jazz bassist Chris, on keyboards, and Felix Pastorius, son of … well, you know who. On stage together, this quartet produced some of the best live jazz I’ve heard in a good while, and the crowd at the remodelled Forge certainly agreed, given the reception at the end.

The angle for the Modern Standards Supergroup is to play jazz interpretations of modern rock and pop classics – a not altogether original idea (the Bad Plus were doing it twenty years ago), but one delivered excellently. A few originals by the players, such as the first number “Sex Pots” by Doky which opened the show, were mixed in for good measure.

Niels Lan Doky was my primary reason for attending; I’d seen his brother Chris live many times, and was curious if the latter’s world-class jazz chops ran in the family. Answer: they do. Undoubtedly the band leader – he has already toured a different version of this project – Doky’s creative choices on tracks like Oasis’ “Wonderwall: were entirely convincing and his playing was just impeccable throughout.

Indeed, all four of them were immense. Given their collective musical heritage, it would have been surprising if they were not.  I was especially intrigued to hear Felix Pastorius. Sadly I’m too young to have had the chance to see his father live, but close your eyes..imagine you are listening to Pastorius senior…it’s all too easy. On his six-string electric bass – with a single rose affixed to the headstock, his tremendously fast finger-work, stopped chords, frequent use of harmonics, and luscious melodies overlaying a solid groove at all times… it was totally spellbinding. Felix towers over the other players in physical stature and mostly plays sitting down.

Ernie Watts was someone I’d never actively listened to before (more fool me). Once the instrument was in contact in his mouth, you understood why the audience hollered and cheered every note: such stamina! Indeed, he seemed to throttle his tenor sax on the Prince track “It’s About that Walk”, just to get every last squeak out of the fantastically fast trills he enjoyed. And those sustained notes: oh, wow.

Harvey Mason was throughout the evening unobtrusive and entirely undemonstrative, but his beat was true and on every track – including when they played Herbie Hancock’s “Chameleon”, a track he co-wrote, he served the music spectacularly well. Their version was recognisably Hancock’s, but the groups swapped some minor for major chords to give it an ‘odd’ feeling, but one that showed the strength of the original composition.

At times with a couple of the covers you could see the join where the band went from the fireworks of their improvisation back to the simpler pop melody, but they clearly had tremendous fun with the concept and alongside original compositions like Ernie Watts’ “Reaching Up”, it all hung together very well. The encore – Jaco Pastorius’ “Teen Town” – was superb.

A fabulously uplifting evening, spoiled only by the absolute scourge of modern gig-going: people spending tens of minutes at a time watching one of the best gigs of the year through a five inch phone screen. 

Where ARE the jazz police when you need them?

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Always a dapper band, with their suits thumbing a nose at many of today’s casually dressed artistes, Facey’s white jacket with floral motifs was Joseph-dreamcoat-esque and sent out a bold message: seventeen years in, core members Facey, Shaney Forbes on drums and Tom Farmer on bass, with Jonny Mansfield on vibraphones (depping for Lewis Wright), are still masters at painting bright, multi-tonal pictures on their jazz canvas.

Supporting – wait, supporting’s a bit passive and undescriptive. Nourishing and gilding the Empirical sound was Jason Rebello on piano. One of my favourite British players, I was at the gig primarily to hear his playing and he didn’t disappoint. I hadn’t actually seen Empirical live for maybe a decade; but this gig was a salutary reminder that when they get going in the live situation, they really are something.

Each and every one of their tunes was rapturously received by a full-capacity 110 people packed into the charmingly tight World Heart Beat venue cum studio space. I was sat behind the rhythm section of Forbes and Farmer, both as sharp as a pair of tailor’s scissors on the faster tracks and as tender soft as a cashmere jumper on the ballads. It was a joy to see Farmer, eyes closed in concentration, wielding his double bass with such intensity, plucking magic from all four strings, and giving frequent knowing looks across to Forbes that said: “yeah, we got this.”

Ait they had. Over two sets, the audience was treated to great solos, boisterous group playing, and plenty of space for the quieter tunes to drift around the space. Mansfield’s vibes playing was immaculate. It served well here in providing the pastel shades to contrast Facey’s more powerful palette and Rebello’s colourful effervescence.

Empiricism is the philosophy of making decisions based on verifiable observation or experience, rather than theory. On the evidence of this new album, I can say without doubt that Empirical is in a very good place.

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Nestling among the cookie-cutter flats and glass towers of the new development surrounding the US embassy, the World Heart Beat is like a single wildflower emerging from the soil in an architectural volcanic wasteland, providing much needed cultural enrichment for this part of town. An adjunct to the nearby music academy which nurtures local musical talent, this cracking little venue hosts music from across the globe in a comfortable space with a top notch sound system and super atmosphere.

On Saturday that space reverberated to the sonorous and emotionally intense compositions of Rebecca Nash’s new suite of eight tunes based – intriguingly – around chemistry. Originally commissioned for the Bristol Jazz Festival to honour chemist Ian Thorne (a unique 70th birthday gift from a wife to a husband), each of the pieces is associated with a precious metal: platinum, osmium, rhodium, iridium, ruthenium and palladium. The album ranks alongside Flanders and Swan’s The Elements one of the few successful music/chemistry mashups out there.

The reaction – pun absolutely intended – from the audience to Nash’s playing was strong evidence that this piece, another jazz album nurtured in the creative substrate created by the pandemic lockdown, deserves all the accolades that will I’m sure accrete to it. 

Her sextet comprised John O’Gallagher on saxophone; Nick Malcolm on trumpet; Paul Michael on bass; Nick Walters on electronics; and long-standing collaborator Matt Fisher on drums. All put in fine performances, but on many of the tracks for me the sweet tone and reactive soloing of Michael’s electric bass, and the intricate dexterity of Fisher’s drumming, were the standout feature, complimenting Nash’s fireworks brilliantly. 

How does one interpret the idea of Platinum – Element 78 of the periodic table – as a jumping off point for a suite of modern jazz? In Nash’s case, create a juicy melodic theme which, like a hidden atomic structure, defines the deep structure and appearance of the whole suite. This motif appears isotope-like in different forms across other tracks, and was interpreted through contrasting reactions from O’Gallagher’s saxophone and Malcolm’s trumpet, both of whom blew with gusto and delicacy in equal measures, or lustrous soundscapes when paired with the ethereal computer-generated soundscapes. As you would expect in any suite, there are contrasts of stillness and bubbling turmoil, and many periods of harmonic tension and release, as well as improvisation and composition in equal measure which generated musical chiral compounds that sparked and fizzed.

Platinum – like the other metals interpreted by Nash – is regarded as a noble element due to its resistance to corrosion and structural stability. One of the dictionary definitions of noble is ‘of imposing size or appearance’, and Nash’s Redefining Element 78 does, through its unceasing movement and rich, angular harmonic choices, feel worthy of that moniker. 

The final track, Platinum – Noble Heart, brought all the elements of the seven previous pieces together in a lustrous finish.  Precious metals have always been sought out by humanity for their beauty and timeless quality and with this new album, Nash has created a suite of material which one suspects will shine and retain its lustre for a long, long time.

As well as being a composer, Nash is also an educator a Royal Birmingham Conservatoire, and support for Nash in the first half came from one of her students, saxophonist/singer/composer Rebecca Wing, a fourth year student in Birmingham who has also, since the age of eight, had a connection with the World Heart Beat Academy under the guidance of pianist Julian Joseph. So, something of a homecoming.

A short set by her quintet included Wayne Shorter and Brian Blade tracks as well as her own compositions; their playing was fundamentally sound albeit a little rough around the edges at certain moments, but you expect that from musicians still learning the tricks of their trade. But playing alongside and learning from polished performers like Nash, Wing will I’m sure earn her place on jazz’s musical periodic table. 

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Festival goers were certainly generous in their frequent whoops of joys and rounds of applause for the aggressive soloing by each band member, but also library quiet for the pianissimo parts of the set, of which there were a good number.

The trio has been touring this album for a while – this reviewer saw its UK debut back February in Nine Elms – and there’s no doubt that they have the confidence from having done so to build on the core set of tunes with frequent right-angled improvisations, often started by a side-eye glance from Høiby towards drummer Marc Michel, who was in many ways the star of the night, his snare and toms crashing through this compact venue with glass-shattering intensity.

There’s a broad environmental and ’social justice’ theme to Planet B, and a number of tracks were interspersed with recorded audio of different activists making pleas for action on various topics (think of a Steve Reich Jazz Trio), the impact of which while I felt palled somewhat, not least when the iPad momentarily didn’t play ball.

Some of the tracks – none of which were announced – took time to come to the boil as Høiby bowed his bass, Michel scratched his ride cymbal and Josh Arcoleo on saxophone parped and breathed his way into the melody. But boy, once things got going, there was an exciting intensity to their free-flowing playing, particularly when Hoiby threw all manner of fantastically obtuse shapes on his fingerboard to drive each tune to a climax.

Arcoleo in particular – wearing his customary woolly hat and fulsome beard, and looking for all the world like a fisherman on the docks at Grimsby awaiting a two week stint on the herring grounds – threw caution to the wind on most of his solos, which poured out of his instrument with the intense fluidity of a flooded storm overflow, and these were certainly appreciated by the audience.

With rhythms and harmonic choices that presented both of love and outrage in equal measure, those hearing this album in its entirety would have clearly understood that it’s a passion project for Hoiby, forged out of the fire of the pandemic and his own exasperation with the state of the world.

A man behind me with a broad Geordie accent said at one point in response to a question from his companion: “Aye, I really liked bits of it.” And this reviewer is somewhat of the same opinion – there was certainly much to admire in the show, particularly on tracks when the energy was up; but the more langourous parts felt overlong, something not helped by the physical challenge from the hard metal chairs on which we were sitting.

But the thunderous response from the crowd suggests that the majority saw things differently and it was undoubtedly the case that band and audience both gave fully of themselves throughout the whole show, in a venue that’s warmly embraced Høiby over the years.

One damp squib: The Vortex has become the latest in a long line of venues switching to card payment only, thus making what should be a simple transaction at a crowded bar just that little bit more time consuming.

The post Jasper Høiby Planet B at Vortex Jazz Club first appeared on UK Jazz News.

Some musicians might be tempted to run in the opposite direction, to change their name to avoid accusations of the ‘you only got where you are because…’ variety.

But I’ve always liked the fact that Kyle Eastwood hasn’t ever shied away from who his father is and how important his influence has been on his own career.

And why should he? If you listen to the quality on offer on the nine albums he’s released up to now, it’s abundantly clear that it’s Kyle Eastwood’s talent that put him where he is, irrespective of any boost derived from being the son of one of the world’s great movie icons.

And now, with Eastwood junior twenty-five years into his own career, he is not just acknowledging but revelling in his family name and making a virtue of it, by taking music from Clint Eastwood’s vast cinematic back catalogue – as actor and director – and giving it a jazz twist.

Eastwood Symphonic is part homage and part celebration, not least of a son’s love for his father. And Eastwood fils has done Eastwood père proud.

I’ve enjoyed Kyle Eastwood’s bass playing ever since listening to 2006’s Now, a rip-roaring and soulful slice of contemporary jazz. 

On this, his eleventh album, keyboardist Andrew McCormack – who featured on Now and who’s since carved out a fine career himself – is still playing with him, along with Brandon Allen on saxophone, Quentin Collins on trumpet – another long-standing Eastwood sideman, and Chris Higginbottom on drums.

Alongside the quintet is the Czech National Symphony Orchestra led by Gast Waltzing, giving Eastwood a more expansive tonal palate with which to start afresh with twelve well-worn tunes. 

There is for some well-established bands and musicians a grim inevitability, that at some point, they’ll either ‘go acoustic’ or ‘go orchestral’, and it can often feel gimmicky when they do (evidence for the prosecution: Kiss Symphony). It often signals they’ve simply run out of ideas, and I generally steer clear as a result.

But I didn’t get that from listening to Eastwood Symphonic. 

Kyle Eastwood already has fine composing chops (he has made a number of contributions to his father’s films, such as on Gran Torino and Letters from Iwo Jima), and having a quintet and an orchestra to play with has given him scope to be expansive while still fundamentally sticking to his jazz background.

First track Overture feels like what you’d expect – the first musical introduction to a movie, with subtle motifs from Clint Eastwood movies woven into the score, but no jazz. Yet.

That comes in with the re-imagining of Lalo Schifrin’s Magnum Force, which is shot through with all sorts of seventies groove and grime, not least in the driving bass line and Collins’ filthy first trumpet solo. The orchestra comes in and out like a soloist, as the underlying strength of the original melody shines through. Punchy and peppy, especially when the horns section of the orchestra lets rip on the staccato phrases.

Gran Torino – to which Kyle Eastwood contributed music back in 2008 – is a bit underwhelming given the bright start; a perfectly functional slow collaboration between orchestra and acoustic bass, but the placing so early feels a little off. The Eiger Sanction main theme – originally crafted by John Williams – recreates the sense of urgency and danger of the original film before swerving off into swing jazz, where you get to see what the band can do when they have a great tune to start with.

There is a constant to-ing and fro-ing between the cinematic and the rhythmic – as on The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, where Allen and McCormack expand the famous theme into bold new areas as Eastwood sustains an economic rhythm, all the while respecting the heart of Morricone’s original idea.

The seventies was arguably Clint Eastwood’s greatest decade, and the Dirty Harry theme is the best track on the album. Eastwood’s groove on electric bass is dripping with swagger, as the horns pump out the anti-hero’s theme. Allen’s first solo, with soaring strings behind, really captures the sound of the grimy, mean streets of downtown San Francisco.

Given what and who he’s working with, it would have been difficult for Eastwood not to produce an enjoyable album and for the most part, Eastwood Symphonic is that; indeed, on the most upbeat tracks, it is excellent. Some of the more thoughtful tracks I didn’t fully engage with, and a few times you could forget this is Kyle Eastwood’s album so understated is his bass, but those are minor quibbles.

It is, ultimately, still a jazz album at heart, and the orchestral element helps augment and complement the quintet well. 

I prefer Kyle Eastwood in jazz quintet mode, but I don’t begrudge him going all-out and doing something different to celebrate a father’s glittering career and the greatest gift he gave his son: a love for jazz.

TRACK LISTING
1. Overture
2. Magnum Force (1973Director: Don Siegel / Composer: Lalo Schifrin / Actor: C. Eastwood
3. Gran Torino (2008)Director: C. Eastwood / Composer: Kyle Eastwood & Michael Stevens
4. Eiger Sanction (1975)
Director: C. Eastwood / Composer: John Williams
5. Doe Eyes (Love theme from The Bridges of Madison County) (1995)
Director: C. Eastwood / Composer: Lennie Niehaus / Actor: C. Eastwood
6. The Good, The Bad and The Ugly (1966)
Director: Sergio Leone / Composer: Ennio Morricone / Actor: C. Eastwood
7. Unforgiven (1992)Director: C. Eastwood / Composer: Lennie Niehaus / Actor: C. Eastwood
8. Letters from Iwo Jima (2006)Director: C. Eastwood / Composer: Kyle Eastwood & Michael Stevens
9. Dirty Harry (1971)Director: Don Siegel / Composer: Lalo Schifrin / Actor: C. Eastwood
10. Changeling (2008)Director: C. Eastwood / Composer: C. Eastwood / Arranger: Kyle Eastwood
11. Flags of our Fathers (2006)Director: C. Eastwood / Composer: C. Eastwood / Arranger: Kyle Eastwood
12. A Fistful of Dollars (1964)Director: Sergio Leone / Composer: Ennio Morricone / Actor: C. Eastwood
Bonus Track: Cool Blues (from Bird) (1998) – Director: C. Eastwood / Composer: Charlie Parker (Available only on the Special Edition only.‘

Eastwood Symphonic will be released 1  September 2023, available on CD, as a double vinyl album and on all major streaming and download services, available in Dolby Atmos. The release will also be celebrated with a special publication of a 40-page book accompanied by 10-inch vinyl disc that includes a bonus track and a conversation between Clint & Kyle about how music can change the making of a film. Also released is a documentary film produced by ARTE.

The post Kyle Eastwood + Quintet + Czech NSO – ‘Eastwood Symphonic’ first appeared on UK Jazz News.

More familiar may be American bassist Tony Levin of Peter Gabriel and King Crimson fame. Given his status as one of the go-to sidemen for only the most upper-echelon recording artists, Levin’s presence on this album can only be a positive sign that he sees something important in what Jevtović is trying to do, and wants in on the action.

The trio is completed by drummer Marko Djordjevic, whose playing ably supports the two string players.

City Hustling demonstrates a readiness to stretch boundaries rather than play it safe. This does mean, however, it may appeal to a particular, rather than a general listening audience.  Its sound is a mixture of rock, blues, jazz-fusion, and free improvisation. Jevtović’s guitar tone is angular, spiky: at points it’s downright angry, almost malevolent. He isn’t about fretboard histrionics: Jevtović’s playing is for the most-part mid-paced and relies a lot on sustain and cut-through rather than sheer quantity of notes. 

This album is certainly not an easy ride. It’s an album that makes you work hard as a listener. And like many things in life, sometimes the enjoyment comes from being challenged and made to work for the payoff that results.

Across seven tracks there’s not a huge amount of tonal variation. What there is in spades is improvisation built around a convulsive, propulsive idea: but it’s measured, and doesn’t bamboozle. A track like Searching for New is an improvised fantasy in which Levin and Djordjevic create some undulating rhythmic landscapes over which Jevtović’s guitar swoops in and out. The track doesn’t easily resolve or point the way for the listener: It shifts, jumps around, pulsates.

On I Don’t Know How, a circular bass riff from Levin drives the track forward but again, the melodic destination never feels obvious. It’s like the players are feeling their way in the dark in a form of musical spelunking, going where the gaps emerge. Jevtović also plays with a dangerous abandon that verges at times on the discordant, almost unnerving.

He’ll start what appears to be a developing melody, then it will stop, and move elsewhere. The listener is given few aural cues as to where each track is heading, or how near it is to resolution. It is not designed to calm or soothe.The best track is probably Improve: this kicks off with a series of off-kilter, sustained notes from Jevtović over which Levin improvises and explores the fretboard using multiple effects: things take off when the drums come in and generate some rhythmic spontaneity.

Discordance, dexterity and drive are three ‘D’s that character much of this album. There’s a lot going on on each track and things may only make sense after two or three listens; for instance, there are few memorable, hummable melodies that grab you early on and hook you in. It’s not what you would call ‘accessible’.

That said, Jevtović is clearly a supremely talented player who is not satisfied with just producing a standard-issue guitar trio album. He wants to experiment on his terms. City Hustling provides ample evidence that, within the right boundaries, his readiness to experiment and be spontaneous can propel ideas beyond the humdrum towards the memorable. But the journey is never straightforward.

City Hustling was released on 9 June 2023.

The post Dušan Jevtović – ‘City Hustling’ first appeared on UK Jazz News.

Their latest album, Gift From The Trees, is no exception. If it were a work of art, it wouldn’t be in with the impressionists or part of a riot of colour in the Pop Art section. Rather, it would be found in one of the smaller galleries, showing a Robert Capa retrospective.

That’s to say, they seem to play with the stillness and concentration of the photographer rather than the big, bold strokes of the painter. Their sound is about subtle shadows and mid-tones more than primary colours and bold lines. 

While limited musical textures are available, the band largely make up for that with interesting compositions. This recording also has – deliberately, according to the press release – a more organic, unproduced live feel, where the raw power of each note and combination of notes emerges from the speakers. The band lacks a bass player; but the absence of bass frequencies is compensated for by a heavy bass sound from drummer Jesse Barrett and pianist Nick Smart’s mallet of a left hand.

Opener The Spinner is a hypnotic start, all piano with a compelling left hand motif from Nick Smart, allowing space for the rest of the band to come slowly in; Jordan’s sax at times sounds like a bowed cello and this track has the feel of the opening of a German new wave movie. Thin, but nonetheless intriguing.

Next track Riser acts as the name suggests, the melody rising up and down until the track moves to quietude towards the end as the sax creates a simple phrase and fades out. The gentlest of tunes on the album, Nightingale sees saxophonist Jordan Smart doing his best to impersonate the avian composer, with delicate, folk-y ideas and lots of vibrato and trilling.

The heart of the album is Dimu. A short introductory track throws up a hint of the desert, with middle eastern voicings on the sax over an opaque piano voice, which are propelled along in the track proper by chunky tabla rhythms from drummer Barnett and duetting between sax and piano over the main theme. It’s a classic ‘builder’ of a track and finishes on an upward trajectory.

Deep Within Mountains was recorded late at night, and the quiet opening and slight echo on the piano suggest the exploration of a cave, with the drums and percussion the water drip-dripping and forming stalagmites. Labyrinth is more experimental classical music than jazz – it starts with muffled piano strings that bite and jump, and this percussiveness builds into a repetitive tempo and series of single note piano notes.

While it’s not easy listening – it gives your ear plenty to grapple with – it felt at times a little too subdued. But I ended the playback struck with the ambience of it all. No, this is not an album of lush chords, but sometimes simplicity is a virtue and can be just as effective in stirring up emotions and creating a clear mood as an album offering more tonal and musical variety. 

Release date is 31 March 2023.

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With just stringed instruments (Michael League) and piano (the UK’s own Bill Laurance) – and no bouncy rhythm section, stabbing brass, or obvious effects – the two musicians are out on a bit of a musical limb, relying simply on melodic and chord choices to get them through.

But when those choices are made by League and Laurance – musicians who, with the other members of the collective, have given jazz a steroidal shot in the arm over the last decade – that’s enough to produce a cracking album, albeit one that resides on a different sonic continent than their regular output.

In the opening eight bars of the first track, La Marinada, the listener gets an aural surprise – the distinctive and deep twang of an oud with its sonic-boom low-end weaving its way in and out of Laurance’s light touch playing. Textually interesting, if a little underwhelming as an opener. League plays the oud like an oud player wouldn’t, or maybe shouldn’t, and that in itself makes this instrument’s sound, which I would normally run a mile from, more interesting.

More of the Marrakech-meets-Monterey vibe on Meeting of the Mind, which is dominated by string bends and close mic’ing picking up every finger scratch and swipe of League’s left hand; Laurance’s playing feels a little in the background here, but it’s suitable nonetheless, providing a cooler, more western counterpoint. 

Round House moves away from the Med into more straightforward jazz duo harmonising and what’s noticeable – aside from the dense, bloated sound of League’s acoustic bass – is the humming, sucked-in breadth and slapping fingers of the bassist working his socks off to lay down a great platform for Laurance to kick off the shackles and get up and running. It’s at this point the album starts to bloom, particularly when League himself solos, giving his fretless fingerboard a super-intense workout.

Kin, a Laurance composition, feels like a track that could have been on his recent solo albums; League is a background presence on acoustic bass, and the track is replete with the characteristic changes in volume and attack, rippling runs and sustained notes that are a noticeable feature of Laurance’s playing.

Tricks has quite the dirtiest bass sound I’ve heard in a while – my speakers are still recovering – with every wind of the string evident in League’s low-end playing, some rather chatty staccato piano providing a slightly distorted sonic counterpoint. The middle section jumps and tumbles like a car falling down a mountain, and is a masterclass of why this album doesn’t need any other instrumentation. The textures are just wonderful. A real gripper!

Ngoni Baby, for a song with an African-sounding name, gives off something of a Japanese crossover vibe, while Bricks is another up-tempo, oud-focused composition leading into the title track, Where You Wish You Were. The melody has melancholy shot through it, and Laurance’s piano is tempered and … then fades out. Only 1 m 35 seconds for a title track seems an odd choice.

Last track Duo is what you’d expect, and provides a subtle denouement to an album which, over eleven tracks, works because it is defiantly not a stripped down Snarky Puppy, but one which makes a virtue of the limitations imposed by the number and timbre of the instruments played. For my tastes it’s perhaps a little too oud-heavy, but that’s a quibble in what is overall a very pleasant listen. 

The super rich production too – every molecule of air vibrated by the strings seems to pop out of the speakers – is also a great choice, creating a ‘live’ feel to the album, like you’re sitting next to the two of them in the studio. 

Won’t be to every ‘Puppy fan’s taste. But give it a go. Kick back and listen, and leave the groove for another day.

Where You Wish You Were is released today, Friday 27 January.

The post Bill Laurance & Michael League – ‘Where You Wish You Were’ first appeared on UK Jazz News.