Jazz Recommendations – 2015 Releases

What makes the Isis Giraldo music adaptation of her father’s poetry so captivating can be traced to her specific delivery of this kaleidoscopic display of sound.  More often than not, when a musician puts a wide spectrum of elements and influences into play, the resulting motion is one that sweeps the listener away on a journey.  But with Padre, the pianist & composer develops an immersive experience, one where the ear is locked in place, and gets drowned in imagery while in that stationary position… not unlike watching a movie while melting into a comfy theater seat.  In this instance, the movie is framed by straight-ahead and free jazz, Latin rhythms, gospel harmonies, pop music confections, rock music edges, and all the other, barely perceptible influences that, in combination, create the dramatic and resonant effect that is the linchpin of the cinematic experience.

Arguably, the representative piece of the album is a suite titled simply “I, II, III.”  Actually, I can’t even confirm that it is, in fact, intended to behave as a suite.  And yet, the way Giraldo constructs the flow and bonds from one part to the next and back again, the three consecutive tracks behave as a cohesive unit.  Furthermore, the way she lets loose with both compositions and ensemble direction adds further evidence to the existence of a story arc within the confines of the greater album vision.  “I” begins with a contemplative section that suddenly breaks from its reveries and shouts its thoughts to the skies.  This, in turns, leads to the voices of “II” floating in an ambient drone before building up to the space-y melodic effects of one of Radiohead’s dreamier tunes.  And how that leads into the swooning “III,” which, in turn, implodes from its own intensity, a sharp flame burning bright before fading out in embers… that’s the kind of lyrical scene-change that’s got all the ingredients for sonic addiction.

“Tus Ojos” is a comforting whisper and “Tormento” is perhaps a worry that not everything will be alright, but in the context of the recording, their straight-forward delivery shows that the emotional impact of these songs is attributable to more than just the dizzying flight pattern changes of soaring melodies.  On the other hand, it’s hard not to fall hard for the album’s more eccentric tunes, like “Improvisation” and its parade march through non-linear space or “Trees” and the way it makes a torrential downpour of rhythm and warped melodic fragments as welcoming as a gentle mist on a hot day.

These are just a few examples of the music on this truly enchanting album.

Your album personnel:  Isis Giraldo (piano, vocals), Ruben Dario Giraldo (poems), Jane Chan (cello), Simon Millerd (trumpet), Mike Bjella (clarinet, sax), Kai Basanta (drums), Ben Dwyer (bass) and Ryan Brower, Felicity Williams, Thom Gill, Ghislain Aucoin, Robin Dann (voices).

This Self-Produced album was released in 2015.

Listen to more album tracks on the artist’s Bandcamp page.

Jazz from the Montreal, Quebec scene.

Available at:  Bandcamp | eMusic | Amazon | CDBaby

The quintet Identikit crafts melodies as beautiful as they are durable.  Everyone knows what a beautiful melody is, so no need to continue with that line of conversation, but durability… that’s what allows guitarist Marzio Scholten, bassist Sean Fasciani, drummer Niek de Bruijn, alto saxophonist Lars Dietrich and tenor saxophonist Jasper Blom to go off on solos and group trips that wander far far away from that gorgeous opening statement of melody and yet continue to reference it as if they were carrying it in their back pocket the entire time.

But it’s more than just referencing the melody… the quintet alters it, reshapes it, boosts its strength, lets it fall into a state of vulnerability… even as they enter one stage of the song after the other, giving the impression of traveling a very great distance.  It’s a nifty effect and a talent not to be underrated.  And whereas the Brian Blade Fellowship tend to emphasize the modern jazz and folk influences within the compositions, Identikit runs a different direction, embracing instead an indie-rock form of expression, and it’s why these captivating tunes are also so much damn fun.

Title-track “Heres Comes a Riot” is brief and to the point, and its pure enthusiasm is about as infectious as it gets.  “Wilco” begins a state of dreaminess, then flashes some sharp teeth before ultimately finding a way to give the two states a single voice.  “The Day We Lost It All” breathes out the melody with the alluring beauty of the Paris scene, has me thinking of artists like Pierre Perchaud and Nicolas Moreaux, and then suddenly the quintet just sets the whole damn song on fire and now we’re talking an entirely new kind of beauty, one where the melody wobbles and quivers within the waves of heat.  “Erath” coasts through a groove for a little while, then suddenly breaks into a gallop and rides the rhythm like a battery of choppy waves, enters an eye of storm with the soft breath of the melody gently strummed on the breeze before re-entering the storm for the big finale.  The album ends with “We Stand Alone.”  The quintet returns to the dreamy expressionism that paid big dividends earlier in the recording, and then ramp it up to a casually dramatic intensity that signals loud and clear that the conclusion is approaching fast on the horizon.

A really fun album from a band that knows how to craft a beautiful melody and what to do with it when the building is done.

Your album personnel:  Marzio Scholten (guitar), Sean Fasciani (bass), Niek de Bruijn (drums), Lars Dietrich (alto sax) and Jasper Blom (tenor sax).

This Self-Produced album was released in 2015.

Listen to more album tracks at the artist’s Bandcamp page.

Jazz from the Netherlands.

Available at:  Bandcamp | Amazon

This album connects with me from any number of angles.  There’s the project theme:  Trombonist Andy Clausen put together the multi-media project Shutter as a way to present the imagery of his travels from 2012 through 2013.  How he captures those images is four-fold.  First, he views them personally.  This is something we, as listeners, can only experience indirectly through later stages of the process.  Second, he takes a photo of the scene with an old-school a 1970s Nikkormat FT 35mm camera.  And it’s these photos that he uses later as inspiration when, three, he begins constructing compositions based not just on what he sees in the photograph, but also from what he sees in his memory of that very first time he viewed the scene, before he’d even decided to get out the camera and snap a photo.  The photograph is going to differ from that first viewing and the memory is going to differ from that first viewing and the way he views the scene in the photograph is going to be different than how he viewed it via the camera lens… and all of the vagaries of memory and interpretation get nicely muddled and folded into and over itself, and that leads to the fourth stage of the image capture… how it’s captured by the ensemble as they interpret the compositions inspired by the photos and then enhancing the picture with improvisation and more inspiration of their own.

Visually, the scenery changes from photograph to photograph.  A horizon shot of a nighttime Seattle skyline is part of the same album as old barns framed by pastoral countryside, the curious personality of architectural oddities, the greenery of looming forests, the obliteration of red rock canyons, and the vastness of the wide blue ocean.  And reflecting how personal perspective bundles up diverse imagery into a singular vision, the music of Shutter remains within the same pocket, a consistency of tone and temperance that provides this strange and beautiful music an appealing cohesiveness.

There’s the skittering tails of melody on “High Tide” that coalesce into mighty swells of harmony.  “QM2” switches between a whimsical prancing cadence and languorous extended yawns of melody.  The sing-song sway of “New Berlin, New York” emits a tiny bit of uncontainable enthusiasm, a little bit of bold, proud posture.  “Hog Island / Walk The Plank” begins as a solemn sunrise hymn, ends as a simple folk tune sung out to the nighttime creatures coming to life at the end of a long day.  “The Only View” brings together grumbling bursts of dissonance and thick brushstrokes of melody.  And all of it comes together with the logical duality of shadow and light.

And that the project is presented in multi-media format, it engages the senses from more than one direction, both literally and conceptually.  The music can stand alone on its own merits or can be accompanied with a viewing of the photographs or as live performance.

And it would be inexcusable for me to not mention that this album is yet another example of the impact both Bill Frisell and Wayne Horvitz have had on the Pacific Northwest scene.  The 1996 Frisell recording Quartet was notable for its stunning yet unconventional beauty as well as its odd instrumentation of electric guitar & effects, trombone, trumpet, violin and tuba.  It was a concoction that was singular in the extreme, and it’s not a sound I’ve heard captured quite so fully as Clausen’s ensemble does on Shutter.  It’s a impressive thing to walk territory so rarely traveled, but to then stake out a patch of turf for his own singular vision is truly remarkable.

A fascinating album.

Your album personnel:  Andy Clausen (trombone), Riley Mulherkar (trumpet), Mitch Lyon (cello), Gregg Belisle-Chi (guitar) and Gregory Uhlmann (guitar).

Check out the artist site page dedicated to this project, which includes the photos that inspired the compositions as well as the opportunity to listen to more album tracks (LINK).

Released on Table & Chairs Music.

Jazz from the Seattle, WA scene.

Available at:  Bandcamp