Jazz Recommendations – 2013 Releases

There is a nonchalance to the music of the trio Rooms that is especially appealing.  Their self-titled debut album Rooms sounds carefully constructed with a certain poetry in mind… of repeated phrasings juxtaposed with scattered rhythms, and sounding both off-the-cuff and thoughtfully planned, in a way that is both genuine and charming.

Your album personnel:  Matt Carroll (drums), Dan Pierson (piano, keyboards), and Charlie Kirchen (bass).

The album’s character is best symbolized by its opening two tracks, “Toad” and “Bricks.”  On the former, Dan Pierson makes his mark on keys, sometimes with casual expressions and sometimes with offhand repetition, and often accentuated with a dramatic flourish… an effect accentuated with a crash of cymbals from drummer Matt Carroll that barely rise above a whisper.  The latter track “Bricks” is benefited by brief statements of melody at key moments, keeping a loose song tight at the seams.

“Bloomington” and “Middle Song” provide a nice contrast.  The first highlighted by little missives tossed about, conversational asides that cross paths repeatedly and make a singular dialog in aggregation.  The interlude of “Middle Song,” however, stays close to song center by attaching itself to a cheerfully dancing melody.

“Silence” is the first album track to gather into a definitive form… it just happens to alter that form several times throughout its course.  On drums, Carroll shifts from a staggered gait to a driven repetition.  Pierson hits some nice melodic passages on piano, lighting a fire kindled with an informal austerity.  Kirchen’s bass is the overarching constant to this track, shepherding the tune from the depths of the shadows, the soft pulsing footfalls of his bass establishing a rhythmic foundation that piano and drums proceed to tinker with.  It’s the most vibrant of all the album tracks.

The odd elegance of “C Ballad” incites a sense of formal expression delivered with a confident ease and nonchalance, whereas “Glendalough” lays out sufficiently to make its predecessor appear statuesque.

“Track 12” develops a bit of a groove, building up to a point when Carroll’s drums surge up and over the melody.  And then, like a wave crashing the shore, the song glides over the sand, stretching out further and further until it quietly disappears into the spaces between grains of sand.

To end the album, the trio flexes its muscles a bit.  “Just Wild” opens with Kirchen’s bass arco, then enters a free association that sounds more intentional than anything previous… the trio establishing its presence upon the song with a directness to take the album out strong.

Really, just a charming album and very easy to like.

The album is Self-Produced.

Jazz from the Chicago scene.

Available at:  Bandcamp | CDBaby

The modern jazz scene in the Pacific Northwest has never been bashful about displaying its ties to Miles Davis’s fusion period, especially the influence of rainy day ambiance from In a Silent Way.  And though the influence of Cuong Vu, Bill Frisell, and John Stowell are also apparent, the relaxed jazz-rock fusion of Miles Davis’s 70s period shines through.  This influence has spread from the Portland-Seattle-Vancouver axis, expanding its borders.  And as it hits the plains of the West, in the recordings of the musicians who call Colorado, Montana, Utah, Wyoming and Arizona their home, you can hear that rainy-day sound shift to an airier expansiveness more reflective of the wide open spaces that inform every breath and sound.

So it is with Corey Christensen’s newest.

Your album personnel:  Corey Christiansen (guitar), Steve Allee (keyboards, piano), Zach Lapidus (keyboards, piano, SuperCollider), Jeremy Allen (acoustic & electric basses), Matt Jorgensen (drums), and Michael Spiro (percussion).

Lone Prairie opens up with an immediate expression of the modern Pacific-Northwest scene blended with that early fusion period.  The bright notes of keyboards, the talkative basslines, and a chattering drum attack balance against Christiansen’s guitar notes melting into the pattern of a shimmering melody.  On “In the Pines,” his guitar burns white hot while keeping strongly tethered to the cool groove of the rhythm section.  The sound is more akin to the fusion period deep into development, and at times, resembling that which came in the 80s, leaving the In a Silent Way period behind.  This is not a criticism.  In fact, not only is it a strangely catchy tune, but its sheer force of will provides some satisfying balance to the album.

The Christiansen original “California Widow” gets back to an earlier fusion period sound, and to great effect.  Piano provides an icy exterior to guitar’s gentle heat, though it’s the lithe motion provided by Allen’s bass contribution that instills an intriguing coolness upon the song.  And then there’s the essential percussion of Michael Spiro on the rendition of “El Paso,” giving the C&W ballad a vibrancy that scatters rhythmic patterns over the contemplative hum of keys and bass.  Jorgensen performs a nifty modulation between complementing the understated liveliness of Spiro’s percussion work and enhancing Christiansen’s guitar solo.

The title of the album relates to Christiansen’s childhood on the plains of Utah, and his attachment to the idea and expressions of cowboy music.  Renditions of traditional songs like “Streets of Laredo” and “Sittin’ On Top of the World” illustrate Christiansen’s affection for songs with an easy-going cadence topped with a strongly defined melody.  His rendition of Ennio Morricone’s “Il Grande Massacro” is pretty damn neat… drawing out all the grand drama of the original while still slipping in some of that dreamy 70s jazz fusion sound.

The album ends with a medley of “Red River Valley” and the Christiansen original “Bootyard.”  It’s a perfect blend of the three primary elements of this recording… a Miles Davis 1970’s fusion contemplative disposition, modern Pacific-Northwest rainy day bright and shimmering ambiance, and the folky charm of the wide-open expanse of the West.  Just beautiful.

This album was released early in 2013, but I’m just now getting around to reviewing it.  This has been one of those recordings that made a nice enough introduction on first listens, but gave signals that maybe, just perhaps, it had more to reveal over the passing of time.  And it did.  I’ve been returning to this album over the course of the last year, and I keep finding more to like, and become increasingly enamored with the elements of this recording previously discovered.  It was one of the final cuts to my Best of 2013 list, and it will always probably nag at me a bit that maybe I should’ve found a way to include it.  That’s how I strongly I feel about this album.

Released on Origin Arts.

Download a free album track at AllAboutJazz, courtesy of the artist and label.

Jazz from the Logan, Utah scene.

Available at:  eMusic | Amazon: CD – MP3 – Vinyl

You can also buy the CD & Vinyl directly from Origin Records, and, it appears, at a better price than from Amazon.  Go HERE.

Working the line where jazz and folk meet, saxophonist Sarah Manning captures the vibrant energy of the former and the back porch languor of the latter.  Her 2013 release Harmonious Creature touches upon similar motifs as that of Bill Frisell and his Americana Jazz stylings, but where Frisell pretty much ventures out of jazz territory and into the folk countryside, Manning’s music tends to stray more often on the post-bop side of that borderline.

Your album personnel:  Sarah Manning (alto sax), Eyvind Kang (viola), Jonathan Goldberger (guitar), Rene Hart (bass), and Jerome Jennings (drums).

And Manning does play a game of hopscotch down that jazz-folk border… with one foot planted firmly on one side of the land at any one time and the other foot suspended above the opposite genre.  Opening track “Copeland On Cornelia Street” rides the charming squiggles of melody from Manning’s sax and Kang’s viola into a waltz-like motion, then changing partners and letting Hart take over while Manning develops the melody into something fiercer and wilder.  “Tune of Cats” begins with a similar mode, sax piping up with warm notes for viola to leap from one to the other, while Goldberger and Jennings work a more standard repertoire as the rhythm section.  Bassist Hart, again, contributes a resounding dialog in the deeper registers, providing an earthy soulfulness to complement Manning’s fiery solo.

When Manning’s crew plants their feet down on the post-bop side of the line, they do it with authority.  The up-tempo “Floating Bridge” brings the heat, and Manning’s sax solo spreads like wildfire.  “Three Chords for Jessica,” actually, taps a moodier sound more reminiscent of the folk song approach, but Manning lights the song up on saxophone, riding the crest of a slowly building intensity from the other quintet members.  And the slow blues of “What the Blues Left Behind” brings a nicely defined melody on sax, though it’s the seaside ease of guitar that cements the heart of this song in place.

“I Dream a Highway” and “Radish Spirit” go a long way to showing how the quintet doesn’t need to turn up the temperature to get a rise out of the music.  The former has a shimmering melody, glimmering with moodiness and effects, whereas the latter develops a gentle sway that holds the song in place no matter how volatile a solo might become.  And “Grey Dawn, Red Fox” is one of those rare times when the quintet has a foot planted squarely in both jazz and folk territories at the same time.

The notable presence of violist Eyvind Kang can’t be overlooked.  His contributions to albums by Bill Frisell and Jenny Scheinmann, artists who have similarly found a home on the border between jazz and folk, has Kang right at home on this kind of session.  His ability to modulate seamlessly between expressions of the two genres, synthesizing the commonalities while simultaneously accentuating the intrigue of the differences, goes a long way to aiding in the success of this recording.

Just a very enjoyable album, one that crackles with life while retaining a peacefulness that makes for a winning demeanor.

Released on Posi-Tone Records.

Jazz from NYC.

Available at:  eMusic | Amazon CD | Amazon MP3

This is one of those albums that sets off gracefully, quietly, and with a gliding motion as placid as skaters on a frozen pond.  This is one of those albums whose opening statement is so indelible as to resonate throughout the entirety of the recording, even as the rate of speed increases and the ride becomes more bumpy and jarring… still, that sublime opening statement speaks through the expressions to follow.  This is Samadhi, by the Sebastien Ammann Quartet.

Your album personnel:  Sebastien Ammann (piano), Ohad Talmor (tenor sax), Dave Ambrosio (bass), and Eric McPherson (drums).

It’s “Phase #1” that creates the lasting impression.  Ammann’s murmuring piano notes open the album.  McPherson is more talkative on drums, but also speaks in a hushed tone, never threatening to shatter the mesmerizing spell cast by piano.  The cooing of melody from Talmor’s sax balances smartly against the deep-voiced patience of Ambrosio’s bass.  The poised phrases are carried along by the undercurrent of a rhythm that grows increasingly volatile… but it remains an undercurrent, serving to enhance the composure with which the melody is exhaled.  The contrast is almost hypnotic.

And when subsequent track “Serendipity” presents itself as more upbeat, more willing to get up and go, the tranquility of the opening salvo lingers.  Talmor’s saxophone lines, though delivered with a greater urgency, still provide that original sense of patience and poise.  It’s Ammann’s piano that provides a bit of contrast this time, punctuating his accompaniment in a way to imply a slower rate of speed than that realized by McPherson’s flurries on drums.

“Renk-Curb” returns a composed elegance to the affair.  Sax and piano twirl about one another, utilizing separate motions and speeds, yet shape their melodic patterns in a way that leaves them intertwined, atop a rhythm of choppy waves.  Title-track “Samadhi” cuts a straight-ahead path, but its playfulness with the cadence emphasizes the mutability of the music presented to the ear as shaped by the sound of first impression.

“The Ineffable” comes closest to recasting the spell of that opening track, with Talmor’s patient saxophone phrases riding the crest of a dynamic rhythmic attack by the other three quartet members.

The ballad “Afterglow” keeps things serene, and features some nifty conversation from Ambrosio’s bass.  “Saturn Return” works the opposite end of the spectrum, running free, and the clash of sound is an aberrant dissonance to the ballad that came before.  And yet, even here, it is not enough to transform the nature of this album or the elegance of its opening moments.

The album ends with a take on the standard “You Stepped Out of a Dream.”  Each quartet member adopts a different flight pattern, yet their seemingly endless points of intersection provide the performance with a satisfying sense of cohesion.  It’s an interesting way to take this particular album out.  On the one hand, it doesn’t necessarily tie in with the rest of the album songs; on the other hand, its differentiation goes a long way to establishing a sense of finality, of the spell reaching the last of the magic.  And in that regard, it makes for a nifty landing point.

Just a real enjoyable recording.  The quartet hits a rich vein of ambiance right at the outset, and, thankfully, continues to mine it for the length of the recording.  Good stuff.

Released on Fresh Sound New Talent.

Jazz from the Brooklyn scene.

Available at: Amazon CD | Amazon MP3

There’s an abounding warmth and intimacy to the new recording by reed man Ken Peplowski.  Maybe September is the kind of sublime outing that pulls the listener right into the studio session and forges a connection with not just the music itself, but a sense of closeness, as if it were being listened to in the moment of its creation.

Of the album’s eleven tracks, only one is a Peplowski original (the swinging “Always a Bridesmaid,” on which drummer Matt Wilson absolutely takes flight), but the quartet’s caring touch to all the compositions lends each a personal sound and allows the renditions to breathe on the quartet’s terms.  It’s a mater of embracing the original, then letting go as if it were a part of you to begin with.

Your album personnel:  Ken Peplowski (clarinet, tenor sax), Matt Wilson (drums), Martin Wind (bass), and Ken Rosenthal (piano).

The quartet’s rendition of Artie Shaw’s “Moon Ray” adopts the casual sway at the heart of the original, then kicks up the pace a bit, swinging where the original’s orchestration often soared.  Peplowski adapts another jazz orchestra piece with Ellington’s “Main Stem,” though where the original stomped exuberantly, Peplowski’s quartet keeps the chipper attitude, but moves lighter on their feet.

But it’s not all music from Jazz past.  Peplowski’s clarinet accentuates the prevailing heartbreak expressed by Paul McCartney’s lyrics on “For No One.”  And the quartet extends that heartbreak with a rendition of Nilsson’s “Without Her,” where Martin Wind’s bass provides a dark edge to Peplowski’s clarinet’s melancholy tone.  They perform an extended rendition of the Beach Boys’ “Caroline, No,” and while Peplowski’s tenor sax captures Brian Wilson’s fragile vocals, it’s pianist Ken Rosenthal’s striking piano work that resonates strongest, presenting an elegance to a moody tune.

However, it may be the quartet’s take on Francois Poulenc’s clarinet sonata that may represent the album’s shining moment.  There is an appealing formality to the abounding grace of “Romanza,” and an austere presence to its palpable warmth, all lending textures to a song that seeks to envelop completely while still maintaining a distance… something to observe and feel, simultaneously and neither at all.

A sublime outing, conveying an intimacy and warmth that is positively embraceable.

Released on Capri Records.

Jazz from NYC.

Available at:  eMusic | Amazon CD | Amazon MP3