Jazz Recommendations – 2012 Releases

The piano trio going by the name of Hypnotic Zone offers up La Justice, les Filles et l’Eternite, an album with a singular personality… rich with eccentric quirks and off-kilter traits.  At times, it’s quite expressive of the Austrian jazz scene, often treading the same territory as ECM label artists who hail from the same land.  But this is just one side of this album with a dual personality.  Many moments of serenity suddenly dissipate into thin air, replaced by the swirling chaos of dissonant notes and relentless percussion.  It makes for an unsettling reaction.

But then, with time, the music’s patterns become more evident, the way the music respires and the way it drifts, and how it transitions between those two states of existence.  It’s not an album perpetually in flux… it just feels that way at times.

Your album personnel:  Villy Paraskevopoulos (piano), Stefan Thaler (bass), and Niki Dolp (drums).

On tracks like “Jupiter” and “Nocturne,” Paraskevopoulos offers up thoughtful expressions on piano, sometimes angelically and sometimes with a growl, and often within the span of the same tune, but he also shows flashes of dexterity on keys, as on the up-tempo “Bo-Ba.”

Bassist Thaler displays a refreshing panache soloing out on “Interlude #3,” but he really shines when he doubles back and outflanks the rhythm on tracks like “Introspectracular,” darkening the shadowy foundation of the songs, and providing an emotional charge that lofts the tunes up to something a little more special.

Dolp approaches the drum work aggressively, and it’s a big reason why the album possesses such a formidable presence.  Even when the trio maintains a quiet disposition, Dolp makes sure they never enter a defensive crouch.  Each song feels like it could spring to life and at any moment, and that presumed volatility keeps the ear on its toes.  On “Semira’s Dream,” drums keep more to the back of the mix, with piano and bass bringing the volume, yet Dolp is the most expressive of the three, punctuating the sentences of his trio mates as the launching point into his own statements.  The rollicking album-opener “Introspectracular” reflects this approach, too.  Dolp sets the pace of a forced march, and the melody becomes a slap in the face.

The few interludes throughout the album serve as nice transitions between songs.  There’s an art to utilizing interludes within an album… the risk is making them superfluous, and rendering the conclusions of songs and the subsequent beginnings as something awkward and lacking cohesion.  The key is building just enough personality into the interludes to make them worthy of remark, and using as ingredients the elements of the songs that bookend them.  That’s done quite well on this recording.  Most notably, in how the ferocity of opening track “Introspectracular” is allowed to slide into the gentle thoughtfulness of “Jupiter.”

The album ends with an extrapolation of Erik Satie’s “Gymnopedies,” titled “Satie’s Little Blues Waltz.”  Aside from being spectacularly clever, it’s an ingenious way to end this album.  Up to this point, the music was focused on the duality of serenity and dissonance, yet in the album’s final moment of expression, it fuses those two elements into a warm, inviting tune, but one that still has some bite to it.

This may be one of those albums that take a little while to settle in.  From my perspective, it’s worth the investment.  With subsequent listens, this CD gets stored incrementally closer to my stereo.

Released on the Listen Closely label.

Jazz from the Vienna, Austria scene.

Cover art by Christos Kapatos.

Available at eMusic.  Available at Amazon: MP3

A nifty release by accordionist Vince Abbracciante, who brings a genuine drop-dead cool attitude to his instrument.  Though Introducing… Vince Abbracciante qualifies as his debut recording, Abbracciante has been around the scene for a little while, notably as part of the The Bumps, a trio that will receive some print here in the near future.

Not unlike fellow accordionist Andrea Parkins, who recently contributed to Ches Smith‘s Hammered (reviewed here, on Bird is the Worm), Abbracciante evokes a bad-ass demeanor on accordion, while also providing a complementary fuzzy warmth to the sharp edges of multiple saxophone parts.  And, yet, where Smith’s album was a barrage of dissonance, Introducing… offers up something far closer to a modern straight-ahead jazz recording, a work that will have plenty of appeal to listeners who prefer their Jazz to echo the sounds of the past, as well as those listeners who like their Jazz to keep their eyes on the road ahead.

Your album personnel:  Vince Abbracciante (accordion), Roberto Ottaviano (tenor & soprano saxes), Fabrizio Scarafile (soprano sax), Giuseppe Delre (voice), Adriana Ciannella (voice), Juini Booth (bass), and Antonio Di Lorenzo (drums).

Some tracks, like album opener “Visione,” hark back to earlier times, when Jazz was beginning to transmute from Hard Bop to music with a harder exterior and a spiritual tone.  “Em Mi” begins with a brooding tone, then, like a bird suddenly leaping into flight, the song takes off, gradually gaining speed up until the final note.  And “Puglia” also charts a course that’s slow and moody, with bass offering intermittent words that resonate loud and clear, while accordion murmurs in the background.

But most tracks bring an upbeat tempo that’ll incite the foot to tap and the head to bop.  “Yes or No” has sax flying over the top as accordion applies support from beneath, while drums clear out a path for everyone to roll through.  And on “MDX,” drums and bass set a nice groove, while accordion paints at the groove’s edges.  Tracks like “Nu Blu Bossa” and “La Jaiba” bring a Latin flavor to the affair, with cadences that pulse and flutter, and melodies that dart about like fish in a stream.

Most tracks reflect one of the Italian approaches to Jazz, infusing the music with some of the regional folk music, not unlike, say, the Simone Guiducci Gramelot Ensemble, but where Guiducci leans more to the rustic side of that spectrum, Abbracciante’s music hits more celebratory notes, and brings it more in line with traditional forms… a certain ebullience.

Definitely one to check out.

Released on the Bumps Records label.

Jazz from the Apulia, Italy scene.

Available at eMusic.  Available at Amazon: MP3

Mark de Clive-Lowe & the Rotterdam Jazz Orchestra – Take the Space Trane

Interesting release by producer and electronics wiz Mark de Clive-Lowe, who teams up with the Rotterdam Jazz Orchestra and offers up a mix of modern nu-jazz and traditional big band.

Most notable about this recording is the way Lowe handles the divergent elements that comprise this intriguing release.  Whereas he isn’t the first to tackle the fusion of modern jazz, traditional jazz, electronica, hip hop & R&B beats and rhythms, most attempts tend to result in a blend of the varied elements.  But on Take the Space Trane, that doesn’t happen.  The music here isn’t a collective sound.  Each of the elements shout their voices into the mix and stand out from the others.  It’s an amalgamation of different conversations, belted out simultaneously, that result in an engaging convergence of ecstatic music that finds room for those aspects that echo the music of the past and those that are forward-thinking, without either crowding the other out.

Potentially, it could make for an ideal introduction for new-schoolers to get a taste of what has come before, and, perhaps, serve as an acceptable introduction to old-schoolers of what’s going on the scene today.  So, bonus points awarded to Clive-Lowe for creating something different that could, also, reach across genre borders.

Your album personnel:  Mark de Clive-Lowe (electronic drums, keyboards, effects, production) and the Rotterdam Jazz Orchestra:  Johan Plomp (conductor), Martijn de Laat, Ray Bruinsma, Robvan De Wouw, Rik Mol (trumpets), Ron Oligschläger, Louk Boudesteijn, Vincent Veneman, Martin van de Berg (trombones), Marco Kegel, Bart Wirtz, Simon Rigter, Cyrille Oswald, Rik van den Bergh (saxophones), Martijn Vink (drums), and Aram Kersbergen (bass).

Released on the Tru Thoughts Records label.

Download a free album track, courtesy of the artist and label, by hitting the Download button on the audio player just above.

The nifty album cover by Roland Lefox.

Available at eMusic.  Available at Amazon: CD | MP3

Stephane Kerecki Trio – Sound Architects

The new release by bassist Stephane Kerecki isn’t easy to nail down.  Though from the Paris scene, there’s a strong NYC element to this Jazz.  Added to that, the quintet shifts back and forth between eras of influence… some tracks, like “Song for Anna” have a strong modern bent, while others, like when Bojan Z switches over to Rhodes on “Lunatic,” harken back to a 1970’s fusion period.  And then there’s the identity issues of tunes insinuating a presence of serenity, then loosing both Malaby and Donarier on saxes, and giving the impression of something far more volatile… just to sweep the rug back out for a return to a quieter nature.

The album’s mutable identity should be considered a strong characteristic, making the music here a source of intrigue.  Kerecki’s name has been popping up lately on a lot of recordings that have hit my radar, so I wanted to get a mention in about one of his own recordings, hopefully getting his name on the radar of others.  Also, the song “Bass Prayer” is worth the price of admission alone.  A soulful beauty not unlike some of the Keith Jarrett American Quartet releases on Impulse back in the 70s.

Your album personnel:  Stéphane Kerecki (double bass), Matthieu Donarier (tenor & soprano saxes), Thomas Grimmonprez (drums), and guests:  Tony Malaby (tenor & soprano saxes) and Bojan Z (piano & Fender Rhodes).

Released on the Outnote Records label.

Jazz from the Paris, France scene.

Available at eMusic.  Available at Amazon: CD | MP3

An aggressive album that finds a myriad of ways to express it.  Drummer Jeff Davis leads a trio through a series of tunes that rarely telegraph a punch.  Rhythms get delivered in heavy flurries, and melodies are alluded to in bits and pieces, and usually with a twist.  Leaf House is Jazz album masquerading as hard-boiled detective novel.

Your album personnel: Jeff Davis (drums), Eivind Opsvik (bass), and Russ Lossing (piano).

But it’s not all mystery, nor does the album lack trends and characteristics.  Opening tune (and title-track) “Leaf House” displays the furious bursts of cadence that suddenly cliff dive into silence.  A song may seem like it’s over, but then Eivind Opsvik’s bass bounds back onto the scene, with Davis’s drums to back him up.  And then there’s second track “Faded,” which attempts to instigate a concussion, but then suddenly Lossing enters with a shimmering blanket of piano beauty.  “Catbird” is a bit more reserved, and it gives the impression of dancers executing a jitterbug on a steep flight of stairs.

The forceful nature of this music is a result of the trio’s group play.  Even when they engage in animated conversations with one another, notes flying like stream-of-conscious poetry, it’s readily observable that they’re all on the same page, all moving in the same direction, with a view on the same horizon.  That the trio has managed to get volatile music wound up so tight seems directly attributable to the energy they emit.  And when they generate a head of steam, as they do on “Transitional Whales,” starting slow then accumulating strength and speed over the course of the tune, the trio transmits a sense of the unstoppable.  It’s a pretty nifty effect on an album charged heavy with electricity.

Released on the Fresh Sound New Talent label.

Jazz from NYC.

Stream three album tracks on the Audio page of Davis’s site.

Available at eMusic.  Available at Amazon: CD | CD

Something to add…

We each of us have our different ways of connecting with music… our different approaches and methods, our unique preferences and sensibilities.  But Leaf House, at least for me, was yet another example in the rewards of patience.  There’s nothing wrong with hitting the stop button on an album and coming back to it some other time, especially if it’s one that you sense something redeemable about the music that qualifies as worth returning to.  I did that several times with Leaf House. I liked it well enough on my first two listens, but never really engaged with it much.  Several times after that, covering a span of [number] months, I slotted this album into my stereo, usually with adverse reactions.  There was one time I recoiled from it, so strong was its effect on me.  And then, on a day like today, I put the album in and sit transfixed by its monstrous beauty and thoughtful creativity, and so glad that I never gave up on it.

Some albums are like that.  This was one of those for me. I just wanted to share that observation, because I don’t think any of us can be reminded of the value of patience with art nearly enough.