The Safety Net

Jun 18 2012

The Safety Net: Sunna Gunnlaugs – “Mindful” & “Songs From Iceland”

 

The Safety Net, a Bird is the Worm series which highlights outstanding older albums that may have flown under the radar when first released.

*****

Pianist Sunna Gunnlaugs recorded an excellent album in the last half of 2011 called Long Pair Bond.  And though I initially became familiar with her music via the 2010 release The Dream, it was Long Pair Bond that really got me to sit up and take notice.  Since then, I’ve written a review of that album for eMusic and, more recently, interviewed Gunnlaugs for AllAboutJazz.  As is the case anytime I discover a new musician, I dive into their recording history to see what else I missed.  I’ll be talking about two of those albums today.

Mindful and Songs From Iceland were recorded on the same day in December 1999, at the System Two recording studio in Brooklyn, NY.  In what is described on her site as “an incredibly productive session,” Gunnlaugs’ quartet kicked out enough music to spread over two recordings.  During my AAJ interview (whose focus was Gunnlaugs’ current U.S. tour, which runs from June 16 – July 7, 2012), I squeezed in a couple questions about the 1999 recording session that produced Mindful, which Gunnlaugs explained were all original compositions, and Songs From Iceland, which are a collection of Icelandic folk songs.

First, let’s talk about that music.

Your album personnel:  Sunna Gunnlaugs (piano), Tony Malaby (sax), Drew Gress (bass), and Scott McLemore (drums).

The immediate characteristic of both albums that struck me was how “New York” they sounded.  One of the preeminent successes of Long Pair Bond is how Gunnlaugs is able to infuse the buoyancy of New York-style jazz into the austere serenity of Nordic-style folk-jazz… like enjoying a jolt of coffee while sitting by the fireplace and quietly watching the snow fall outside.  It was this quality of sound that was my introduction to Gunnlaugs’ music.  But, really, the older recordings shouldn’t have caught me off guard.

Originally from just outside of Reykjavík, Iceland, Gunnlaugs attended William Paterson University in Jersey before relocating to Brooklyn.  Immersing oneself in that kind of environment is certainly going to affect a person, whether listener or musician.  As Gunnlaugs explains on her site, “Suddenly being able to go to the Village Vanguard or Bradley’s any night of the week and hear amazing pianists was an incredible experience.  It was such a stimulating environment.”  It was in this environment that both albums at hand were recorded.

On Mindful, there is an uninhibited playfulness.  It’s apparent from the interplay that they are paying close attention to one another, even when stretching out on their own.  Mindful album opener “The Good Stuff” begins with Gunnlaugs and Malaby shadowboxing, shooting notes at one another whose intention is to cause an interaction without actually striking one another.  It’s an approach to choreography that extends throughout the entire recording.

The music of Mindful attains great speeds and swoops right in and heads straight up toward the sun.  But within each song is an interlude, sometimes more than one, where a height is attained and the quartet just soars, almost motionlessly in place, letting loose notes sparingly like the occasional flap of wings.  And then they dive right back down and begin all over again.  The push and pull works to the quartet’s strengths, and speaks well for the album.  Title track “Mindful” and “Bad Seeds” illustrate nicely this music attack.

Songs From Iceland takes an interesting approach to Icelandic folk songs.  Whereas the immediate assumption might be that this would be an album of subdued tempos, tight hold on the melodies, and a restraint of notes, Gunnlaugs keeps the This Is New York Jazz sound going.  There is only a hint of the regional folk music on the surface of the songs.  And, perhaps, this is a precursor for music that is to come later, when Gunnlaugs returned to her homeland of Iceland and began working the NYC-Nordic formula in the other direction.

Album opener “Upp á himins bláum boga” is about as straight-ahead a jazz tune as can be found on either recording.  The opening salvo is a strong statement of melody, followed by interludes that allow each member of the quartet to stretch out, with occasional returns to the opening statement.  The only real divergence, and it’s a noticeable one, is McLemore’s rhythmic tornado to end the tune on a thrilling note.

Second track “Höllukvæði” guides the recording closer to where an album with a folk song foundation would be expected to situate itself.  Moody, but still light on its toes, the song smoulders with an impression of old tales and the passage of time.  A beautiful song that builds in tension without sacrificing warmth, McLemore and Gress play a game of synchronized hopscotch as Gunnlaugs keeps things bright on keys while Malaby fires up the sax.  And for the rest of the album, the musicians keep to these roles.  Malaby oscillates between casual swing and a fierce burn.  McLemore and Gress work in tandem to give compositions a roiling undercurrent and a snappy bounce.  Gunnlaugs goes where the melody takes her, which is anywhere between spinning tales out of icicles and sparking embers to life.

Album ends with “Það búa litlir dvergar”, a tune with an infectious melody, sending the album off on the same cheerful note on which it began.

*****

As I mentioned earlier, I sneaked in a couple questions about this session while interviewing Gunnlaugs about her current tour.  Here they are…

Dave Sumner (BitW):  Looking back on the Songs From Iceland/Mindful recording session… how do you feel about that day now?  Have you changed as a musician since those sessions?  And if so, then how?

Sunna Gunnlaugs:  I feel great about those albums.  I didn’t feel so great about it right after the recording session, because it wasn’t as energetic as our live concerts were.  But that is typical- people stretch out much more in concert.  After some time passed, I could listen to the session without having that emotional connection.  There was a very special energy in that group and Mindful is especially close to my heart. It’s also my mom’s favorite.

I hope I have grown as a musician.  I feel that my writing has changed a bit after I moved to Iceland.  There is more space in the music now which maybe represents my current environment while the music on my previous albums represents Brooklyn.

DS:  Anything from that session still stand out in your mind, a memory that you find yourself occasionally reminiscing upon?

SG: There was no plan to record Songs from Iceland.  The recording session for Mindful went so well that we were done with time left over, so we decided to run the Songs from Iceland stuff, too.  I think we had just started to play that stuff in preparation for a tour of Iceland we had coming up a couple of months later.  You can actually read the tour diary on my site… quite an intense tour.

The recording session was in late December, and I remember entering the Systems Two studio and the engineer Joe Marciano greeting us in a Hawaiian shirt and white loafers.  It really brightened up the room.  I also remember sitting at the Steinway there and thinking I’d never want to leave.

It’s fun thinking back to the Mindful days. We played at places like Knitting Factory and Cornelia Street Cafe, and [saxophonist Tony] Malaby was always pulling pranks on us like filling our pockets with packets of sugar.

*****

You can stream both albums on Gunnlaugs’ bandcamp page.  You can purchase them there, too:  Mindful | Songs From Iceland

Download a free album track from Songs From Iceland at AllAboutJazz, courtesy of the artist.

Available at Amazon:  Mindful: MP3

Available at Amazon:  Songs From Iceland: CD | MP3

Here’s a link to her tour schedule.  I believe Gunnlaugs is still working out the details on shows for the 24th and/or 25th, perhaps a show in Cleveland, so check back to her site if you live somewhere between Detroit and NYC.

By • Jazz Recommendations, The Safety Net • 0

Jun 2 2012

The Safety Net: Thomas Barber’s Janus Bloc – “Snow Road”

The Safety Net, a Bird is the Worm series which highlights outstanding older albums that may have flown under the radar when first released.

*****

 

Trumpeter and big band leader Thomas Barber released his debut album Snow Road back in 2009.  And while it did get some attention at the time, since I find myself as enthusiastic today as I did a couple years back when I first heard it, I feel like maybe the attention it garnered wasn’t up to the level of the quality of the album.

Originally from Moscow, Idaho and now living in NYC (via University of Northern Colorado in good ol’ Greeley), Barber has a bunch of movie scores to his credit.  The imagery conjured up by Snow road, from the music itself to the album cover and liner notes, it has a strong cinematic feel to it all, which makes for a very moving listening experience.  I adore an album that can make me daydream like mad while simultaneously engaging me sufficiently to where I don’t just drift away in thought.

Your album personnel:  Thomas Barber (trumpet and flugelhorn), Claudio Roditi (trumpet), Tim Collins (vibes), Nasheet Waits (drums), Linda Oh (bass), Adam Birnbaum (piano), Michael Dease (trombone), Sharel Cassity (alto Sax, flute), Lauren Sevian (baritone sax, bass clarinet), Stacy Dillard (tenor sax), Peter Reardon Anderson (clarinet), Sydney Braunfeld (horn), Amy Schroeder (violin), Keiko Tokunaga (violin), Gillian Gallagher (viola), and Andrew Yee (cello).

The entire album has a satisfying counterbalance of polar emotions.  When the notes paint a gloomy sky, the compositions still let streaks of bright sunlight shine through, and when the tune bounds happily along with a smile on its face, there are moments that provide for serious introspection and a wariness that downcast days may be ahead.  The contradictory emotions coalesce into a pleasant, and intrinsically human, sense of glass half full or half empty depending on what you’re drinking.

The album opener “Song For Snow Road” is the quintessential example of this.  Opening notes are forlorn and full of weighty despondency.  But then trumpet turns the notes around and piano jumps in, and suddenly maybe all is not as doom and gloom as it appeared at first blush.  The sound grows brighter, more lively, both in tempo and loudness, and now the landscape has changed.  When second track “Shatzaquotek” gets under way, the album has shifted to one of buoyancy, even as piano and strings erode at it with a surge of dissonance.

Barber spreads the love around, letting ensemble members speak their voice throughout.  Birnbaum’s piano on second track “Shatzaquotek” gives the beating heart a brain to pair up with.  Collins’ vibes on “The Mind Beneath” is a thrilling gallop.  Barber and Roditi, both on trumpet, have a strong rapport, evident in the way that the shared responsibilities don’t cost the album its cohesion.  Waits sneaks in some nifty embellishments here and there, noticeably on “Stream,” even as he maintains a steady and pleasant sway.  The song “Lickety Split” allows several of the musicians to kick back with their instruments and blow.  And it’s nice hearing bassist Oh in the context of a big band in light of her recent quartet release Initial Here.  Barber employs the string quartet deftly… evenly layering its lush sound throughout the album without ever using it to carry the load; a lesson in effective accompaniment.  That said, the string quartet really shines in the spotlight on album closer “Come Sunday.”

I think that, for the casual listener, there is a belief that jazz big band albums all pretty much sound alike.  If the last decade has proven anything about the jazz genre, it’s that this is a false impression.  Ensembles like the Jack Davies Big Band and Darcy James Argue’s Secret Society (to name just two) illustrate the vast landscape of texture and complexities that a big band leader can aspire to.  However, an aspect that I believe has made Snow Road such an enduring visitor to my stereo speakers is that it doesn’t stray very far from a typically traditional big band arrangement, yet with some tweaks here and there, presents something still quite different.  As if by putting the nuances of his music out front, the differentiation in the music is more profound than the distance would indicate.  I suppose, it’s a so-close-yet-so-far kind of reaction the music elicits from me.  It’s why I keep returning to this excellent album.

Released on the D Clef Records label.  Not a lot of information on the label.  It appears to have been created by musician Michael Dease.  Snow Road was the label’s inaugural release.  The label doesn’t appear to have an actual website, as the link above would prove, but scooting around the internet has derived some results that indicate this is an active label that has put out several album since.  So worth doing some research if you’re interested to see who else this label is promoting.

You can stream the entire album, and purchase it, on Barber’s bandcamp page.

Available at Amazon: CD | MP3

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Jan 26 2012

The Safety Net: Ellipsis – “Edge Hill Road”

 

I discovered Ellipsis and Edge Hill Road about a year ago while wandering the halls at the Bandcamp site, just looking for anything interesting to hear.  I was hooked almost immediately, and now a year (or so) later, the album never shook me, so I figure this is a nice opportunity to give it a little more time in the spotlight.  Edge Hill Road is exactly the type of album I envisioned writing about when I came up with the regular feature of The Safety Net.

Released originally back in 2009 by a quintet of jazzers from the Philly scene who wanted to express their voice through jazz with a different kind of sound.  Looking over their site, it’s obvious they have a strong affinity for Indie Rock music (ie Radiohead), and Edge Hill Road certainly has some of the sonic aspects of that corner of the music world.

Your album personnel:  Jon Thompson (tenor sax), Matt Davis (guitar), John Stenger (piano), Jason Fraticelli (bass), and Justin Leigh (drums).

The album opens with “Thoughts of You”, a meditative piece, with piano and bass opening with a simple three note repetition that sets a tone of solemn contemplation.  Tenor and guitar join in soon after, mimicking that three note progression and building on it, further entrenching the melancholia that stays through the entire tune.

It’s risky to open with a “sad song”, but it can be done; keep the melody simple and sincere, and don’t lay the desolation on too thick.  For my personal tastes, Ellipsis pulls it off.

Another track I really like is “Dear Brian”.  It begins with the sweetest opening notes on sax, accompanied softly with piano, and it just sounds like pulling the curtains aside to see the sun shining over a snowy landscape that wasn’t there the night before.  Halfway through, the song changes, and now we’re happily walking outside in the snow, the cool air frosting breath and sweat from the exertion of trudging through foot deep drifts.  This song exemplifies the quality that I believe I most enjoy about this album (and ones like it)… it makes me break into daydreams, conjures up all this anecdotal imagery, of what has come before or what may yet be.

“Sweet Victory” starts up tempo right away, with guitar taking the lead and setting the pace.  Sax follows close behind at first, wailing away, then takes the lead itself.  And while sax doesn’t relinquish the front position, everyone’s voice gets heard, and it sounds like a bunch of solos tightly intertwined around one another.  It’s a nice bit of fire to an album that’s more inclined to smolder.

“Smoke and Mirrors” is a nifty little bit of tension.  Bass and drums absolutely carry this tune with this evocative rhythm like a hero’s heartbeat leading up the Big Fight; there’s a suddenness and an undercurrent of volatility to it that is just too cool.  Piano whips around in the background, adding to that tension.  Sax and guitar, while most noticeable of all the instruments, really act more as supporting characters, much to the benefit of the tune.

“Why Can’t I Stay Away” is pure heartbreak.

The entire album has a wonderful cohesion to it, makes the artists’ vision very accessible.  Obviously, there’s no way to truly know what the artist(s) intends or thinks about the finished product, but cohesiveness in an album at least gives the listener a decent shot at a best guess.  Besides, even if that best guess is miles away from reality, ultimately, as listeners, what really matters is what we take away from it, the vision that it inspires in us and our connection between ourselves and the music we hear.

Well, anyways, that’s all I got for today.  I hope you enjoy the album.

The album is Self-Produced.  Jazz from the Philadelphia scene.

Download a free track from AllAboutJazz, courtesy of the artists.

Stream the entire album on their bandcamp page.  You can also purchase it there in most file formats.

Available at: CDBaby | Amazon

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Jan 18 2012

The Safety Net: Araxi Karnusian’s Strange Sounds Beautiful Music – “Interrupted”

The distant clanging of metal and the jangle of bells, high-pitch warped notes on woodwind, and then the violins and oboe join in.  Piano breaks through the dissonance with a few choice words, clearing the path for a team of saxophones to comfortingly announce that there are many aspects to beauty.  It’s an honest opening statement, and it’s nowhere close to being the only facet of this ridiculously beautiful album.

Multi-reedist Araxi Karnusian leads the Strange Sounds Beautiful Music ensemble, a nonet.

Your album personnel:  Araxi Karnusian (tenor sax, alto clarinet, compositions), Jürg Bucher (tenor sax, bass clarinet, contra alto clarinet), Michael Beck (piano), Daniel Schlaeppi (bass), Dominic Egli (drums, percussion), Simon Heggendorn (violin), Tobias Preisig (violin), David Schneebeli (viola), and Bruno Fischer (violoncello).

On eMusic, I previously wrote, “Despite this album’s massive presence, there is an overarching sense of solitary quietness to the compositions, like immersing oneself into deep thought on a very crowded and noisy street.”  Some music is like that for me, but rarer for me to encounter it in the Jazz genre.  Another jazz musician who does that for me that immediately springs to mind is Clifford Jordan’s Magic Triangle.  Like Interrupted, Jordan’s Night of the Mark VII and Magic in Munich had an intensity to their presence which was enhanced the quieter they became.

Another selling point for me on Interrupted is the vacillation between serenity and discord.  To deeply breathe in languid moments of soaring violin & sax notes just to have the breath knocked right back out of me with those same instruments striking my ears with dissonance and horror movie tension, that type of emotional push-and-pull is right up my alley, and Karnusian’s precision on the timing of those swings is one of this album’s very best qualities.

Interrupted is presented in three parts (Part 1, followed by Part 3, then Part 2; I couldn’t find anything written about why they were ordered that way, though logically, as beautiful as this album is, it may be just because that was how the music best flowed).

Part 1 is typified by equal amounts jazz and classical.  Strings and sax take turns in the spotlight, and the mood shifts between anticipatory and hopeful.  Strings take charge on the opening tracks, sharp staccato notes, the promise of things to come.  When the woodwinds hit the floor, they soar straight up and balance the string’s tension with their own personal warmth.

Part 3 opens with ominous slashing notes of strings and woodwinds that would indicate bad times ahead for Janet Leigh.  Then silence. which is almost immediately broken by a hopping bass clarinet solo that growls for a nice little stretch before the whole ensemble joins in and helps carry the weight of keeping things frantic and harried.  The tempo builds as the tension rises, strings rising up the register and woodwinds not far behind.  Piano is a rainstorm through all of it.  Strings continue as a de facto Norman Bates.  The greater the tension on Part 3, the freer the compositions become.  Instruments don’t wander too far that they leave the reservation, but Karnusian gives them plenty of room to roam.  Drums and percussion are the electric blender, and strings and woodwinds and piano and bass careen enthusiastically about.

After a brief interlude of lullaby strings and piano, the ensemble begins holding hands again, playing nice together, and sounding more lighthearted than at any other time in Part 3.  All is well again, and Part 3 ends with drums bringing enough heat to blister the heart of winter.

Part 2 (the third of three parts on the album) starts soft with a tiny piano motif played beneath the gentle hum of strings.  The intensity builds, but not uncomfortably; similar to pleasant shock of first contact with the cool side of the pillow.  As Part 2 develops, strings and woodwinds team up for some deliriously languid moments of serenity.  When they stop, piano breaks in with jaunty opening lines, like rays of sunlight breaking through stormy clouds.  The piano’s glorious mood is infectious, because saxes and strings gravitate to piano and all as one they are a spark of cheerful melancholy.  The rhythm section keeps thing chipper and bright.  As Part 2, and the album, draws to a close, the ensemble plays with clockwork precision as they count down the seconds ’til the final note.

I only discovered Interrupted about a month ago.  I am totally addicted to it.  I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Released in 2007 on the YVP Music label.

Jazz from Switzerland.

Available at:  eMusic MP3 |  Amazon MP3

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Jan 2 2012

The Safety Net: Alekos Vretos – “Mergin'” (2009)

 

It’s a rare bird that picks up the oud and decides, hey, I’m gonna lead a jazz ensemble.  Well, your rare bird of the day is Alekos Vretos.  Mixing Arabic, Latin, and Greek musics into a jazz framework, and with his oud in the lead, he somehow has created an album that absolutely swings.  Mergin’ was released back in 2009 and doesn’t appear to have stayed in the spotlight very long (if at all)… exactly the kind of album I created the Safety Net to catch.

Your album personnel:  Alekos Vretos (oud), Konstantina Kyriazi (violin), Bassam Saba Nay (flute), Takis Paterelis (soprano sax), Dimitris Sevdalis (piano), Giorgos Roulos (double bass), April Centrone (Arabic percussion: riqq, bendir, shakers), Luis Enrique Bu Pasqual Kikitcha (Latin percussion: congas, bongos, shakers), and Seraphim Mpelos (drums).

The album begins with “Foud”, a tune that shoots from the starting gate with bursts of sounds that rise and fall in quick even steps, a taste of flamenco. And then the tune begins to soar. The violin is the most obvious evidence of the flight pattern, with oud close behind, but dear god, that rhythm section is really the inspiration for the feeling of being airborne. The buoyant percussion slowly rising rising rising, evening off, a slight dip, then rising up all over again.

This is not an unusual effect while listening to Mergin’.

The title track begins less frantically, but damn does it swing and fly like the first.

Oud strolls in nice and easy, short bursts of bass propelling it forward.  Then the flute melts a path straight to the heart of the melody, sax and violin just a whisper, and there’s just no way not to feel some happiness now.  Everything stops in place for an oud solo, then it begins again, but now the entire ensemble works as one, sharing the burden of flight, propelling the tune forward at greater speed.  It’s marked first by soprano sax, but Vretos brings in his crazily tuneful oud soon after, and it’s the flapping of wings.

Okay, I’ll stop with the bird in flight metaphors.  But, really, those kinds of descriptors are inevitable when an album inspires this much euphoria.  Besides, some album tunes prefer to speed along with their feet.

“Spain” is a high tempo number.  It begins innocently enough with a gentle soprano sax solo, but then violin and percussion hit the scene and set a furious pace that doesn’t let up until the final note.  Interplay between oud and flute is priceless on this tune, and their juxtaposition with violin continues the swingin’ feel.

The album ends with “Photi-graph,” a tune that wears its disparate ethnic influences on its sleeve, yet presents a melody that’s mysteriously pop-ish.  It left me wondering if it was a clever interpretation of a Top 40 song.  But, no, the compositions are all his own, so basically Vretos created a world-jazz fusion song that is as incredibly catchy as any Billboard pop music tune; not an easy feat to accomplish.  Surreal.

Released on the Jadeo Music label, which Vretos created and which does more than simply represent him and his music.  Musicians and influences from everywhere, but it appears that this would be considered jazz from the Athens, Greece scene.

A free album track is available at AllAboutJazz, courtesy of the artist.

Available at Amazon: MP3

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