Sep 15 2012
The Safety Net: Sacks/Opsvik/Maneri/Motian – “Two Miles a Day”
The Safety Net, a Bird is the Worm series which highlights outstanding older albums that may have flown under the radar when first released.
During a rehearsal one day, collaborators Eivind Opsvik and Jacob Sacks began one of those conversations built on the standard hypothetical What-Would-You-Do. It quickly became much less than hypothetical.
Determining that they both wished to record with legendary drummer Paul Motian, they resolved to quickly make this wish a reality. They brought Motian into the recording studio, rounded out the quartet with the strings of Mat Maneri, had a set of compositions to use as a framework but left plenty of room for improvisation. They recorded the album in less than six hours, had it mixed the next day.
The result is a cryptically intriguing album, one whose music embodies the dream-into-reality inspiration of the recording.
Your album personnel: Jacob Sacks (piano), Eivind Opsvik (bass), Mat Maneri (viola, violin), and Paul Motian (drums).
Listening to this album is like watching a person who is fast asleep and deep into dreams.
On “Evening Kites,” when Sacks plays short simple statements on piano and Maneri’s violin wavers tenderly, while Opsvik’s bass is a heart at peace with its own beat and Motian’s drumwork the audio embodiment of the Sandman’s dust, the tunes are the sleeper peacefully at rest having dreams undisturbed by fright or flight.
Or on a track like “Funny Shoes,” where Sacks piano lines have a puckish mischief about them, egged on by Motian’s sly antagonism on drums, the dream has the sleeper on a harmless adventure of doubtful virtue.
With “Simple Song,” it’s easy to picture reliving a childhood dream of marching through fields of magnificent toys and spectacular candy, all just from Opsvik’s ecstatic bass lines setting a tone of unabashed wonderment through young eyes.
The title track “Two Miles A Day” is a dreamer steeped in unease… not yet in nightmare, but damn close to its borders. Motian’s fearful lightning drum solo starts it off, but Maneri’s dark woods strings conjures up all the ominous sensations one would need to keep looking back over one’s shoulder.
Album opener “Ha!” is fraught with worry as the dreamer shifts and struggles in sleep. Maneri’s sharp angular lines like the teeth of wolves, Motian’s drums the thump of inhuman feet, piano notes from Sacks dark clouds forming overhead, and Opsvik a sourceless growl and sneer.
The album ends with “Savile Road,” somewhat fittingly, the most straight-ahead jazz piece on the album, and in many ways, the perfect place for a jazz dreamer to end the night of sleep.
This is an album that flirts with jazz and folk. At times, it comes close to an ECM-like world jazz, other times the Appalachia-influence of modern folk in the jazz sphere. Comparable to the recent Jeff Cosgrove project Motian Sickness, whose album For the Love Of Sara, coincidentally, features the music of Paul Motian and the performance of Mat Maneri. Two Miles a Day has that same ephemeral magic, that same rustic sensibility, but presented in this quartet’s unique voice. A lovely album.
Released in 2007, jointly, by Yeah Yeah Records and Loyal Label.
Available at InSound. Available at iTunes. Available at Amazon: CD.
Sep 22 2012
The Safety Net: Jean-Marc Foltz – “To the Moon”
The Safety Net, a Bird is the Worm series which highlights outstanding older albums that may have flown under the radar when first released.
*****
It’s easy to make assumptions. The premise of To the Moon is that three musicians planned to get into the studio for a recording session of completely improvised music, which they wanted to possess an other-worldly sound. It wouldn’t be out of line for someone to conclude that this would be free jazz that dealt in cacophony, dissonance, and a music geometry that precluded definition. And there’d have been nothing wrong with the album had it been exactly that. Improvised music, especially when several voices join in, it can be just as jumbled and awkward and tangential as any normal discussion between a group of people who sit down in a room and begin talking.
But the thing of it is, improvised music can take any form, and just as it’s possible for three strangers to have a convivial, tempered conversation at the drop of a dime, so it holds that a clarinet, cello, and piano can do the same, were they to come together at a recording studio in Minneapolis on a cold winter day and begin playing.
This is one of those conversations. And it’s a truly beautiful thing to hear.
Your album personnel: Jean-Marc Foltz (clarinets), Matt Turner (cello), and Bill Carrothers (piano).
This is thoughtful music. This is music that possesses a distant beauty, like stars on dark night far away from the city lights, inspiring admiration and ruminations on their majestic power.
Foltz makes his clarinets heard as if emanating from the darkness, seen but not heard, felt but not touched. The deeper the register, the more soulful his sound, and also the more mysterious. On the track “To Columbine,” his clarinet stays to the background, yet its presence is most pronounced each time he offers up an unhurried sanguine note. And when he takes the lead, as he does on “Prayer,” he takes deliberate steps that possess a restraint even when a route is chosen that leads away from the established path.
Pianist Carrothers has developed an elegantly understated tone over the course of his career, making some intriguing inroads with solo performances. His particular style works to great effect here, imbuing the music with a detached warmth, a quiet nobility that enhances the music’s airy touch, but keeps things close to the earth and prevents it from getting so atmospheric that it becomes insubstantial. On “A Pale Washerwoman,” Carrothers ties knots around Turner’s thick cello lines, providing a context in which they flourish.
Turner’s cello was such a wise inclusion for this recording. By its very nature, cello has a dreamy sound to it, and on a track like “Crosses,” where Carrothers slowly builds up to a dramatic point and Foltz shrieks and howls on clarinet, Turner’s immaculate sound on cello is like water washing over scarred rock, filling in spaces, smoothing over rough edges, and making everything cool and clear and new again. On “Old Pantomimes,” Turner’s slow luxuriant notes give voice to the sound of moonlight.
A few tracks get the heart rate up a bit. “Gallows Song” begins with a cello that has a bit of anxiousness coloring the edges of the notes, piano with short bursts of twittering notes, and clarinet slashing across the cello’s path at opposite angles. They continue this pattern, working themselves up into a fervor that ends only when the song reaches its conclusion and the trio goes out like a skittering church mouse.
And then there’s songs like “Knitting Needles,” with its low pulse on clarinet and piano, and a high pitch on cello, stoking imagery of Norman Bates prowling to an eerie groove. But even here, the music doesn’t become untethered from the album’s ethereal moodiness.
In the album liner notes, there’s mention that Foltz commented that the music from this session took them right to the moon. Based on the album’s other-worldly sound, and its distantly beautiful qualities, it appears that’s exactly what happened.
Recorded in 2008, and released in 2010 on the Ayler Records label.
Available direct from Ayler Records.
Also, Available at eMusic. Available at Amazon: CD | MP3
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By davesumner • Jazz Recommendations, The Safety Net • 0 • Tags: Jazz - Best of 2010