Jan 23 2019
Bird is the Worm 2018 Album of the Year: Bobby Previte – “Rhapsody”
Every year, without fail, one of the top albums of the year will be in possession of a lyricism that is positively epic, as if existing in some primal state of mythology. It’s the kind of things one can imagine viewed by an ancient community sitting on rock ledges in a makeshift theater on the edge of the forest, as actors orate timeless tales of the gods and their impact on humanity on an otherwise ordinary day. This particular album will hint strongly of a narrative arc. Despite the odds against it, the album will attain a cohesion in the face of its wild nature. A sharp intelligence will act as an undercurrent to implausible plot twists and otherworldly conflicts. The album will conjure up the uncommon magic that lies at the heart of mundane events and seemingly ordinary times.
In recent years, we’ve seen John Ellis’s 2014 release MOBRO and Michael Blake’s 2016 release Fulfillment fill this role. They are recordings that put their imprint on their respective years of release, but more importantly, they belong to a lineage of music projects that possess the wild abandon and creative courage required of epic tales. It’s no small thing, and it can never be overvalued in the context of any art form, any life. For 2018, the album to achieve these heights is Rhapsody by Bobby Previte.
It’s a story about traveling. It’s about a life in motion, and about the state of existence in between. When you’re no longer in the place you were and not yet in the place you are headed, you exist in a perpetual state of transition, where what was old is being shed and what will be new has not yet been embraced. These changes may only be momentary and impermanent, but it’s during a state of flux that all of the rules of expectations and understanding may be warped and broken and bled. It is during these moments that the greatest upheavals may occur and the most sublime segues. Bobby Previte’s ensemble of guitarist Nels Cline, pianist John Medeski, harpist Zeena Parkins, vocalist Jen Shyu, and alto saxophonist Fabian Rucker exploit every instance of those opportunities for the most dramatic, thrilling, expressive and fun recording of 2018. This is what it sounds like when a creative vision is completely unleashed.
Rhapsody is The Bird is the Worm 2018 Album of the Year.
Released on RareNoise Records.
Listen to more of the album on the artist’s Bandcamp page.
Music from New York City.
Available at: Bandcamp | Amazon
Read more about the album on Bird is the Worm.
I also wrote about the album for The Bandcamp Daily.
It’s not unlike experiencing Charlie Parker again for the first time. Not necessarily the sound per se, but that highly charged reaction to high voltage music. As I 
When this album was released, a year ago January, 
The
Jan 25 2019
So… about 2018, Part I: Me and the NPR Music Jazz Critics poll
The amalgamated results feature the top ten and list the top fifty, as well as some sub-categories. It includes comments from Davis on each of the top ten results. They also have sample tracks from each of the albums that fell in the top ten, and links to various other articles about the artists. Also, Davis talks further on 2018 in jazz and his own ballot with a separate column on the NPR site. I’ve embedded some music that appears on his list and the amalgamated list throughout this column.
Also, the individual ballots are compiled and maintained by Tom Hull over on his site, Hullworks. In addition, there’s a list of all of the jazz critics, with links leading to their specific ballots. My ballot (Dave Sumner) can be found HERE.
Every year that I compile and create my own site’s year-end Best Of list reinforces my genuine respect for the work Davis, Hull and the NPR staff put into making this thing happen. It’s a mammoth undertaking.
Here was my ballot:
NEW RELEASES
REISSUES/HISTORICAL: No choice.
VOCAL: Marije Van Dijk, The Stereography Project Feat Jeff Taylor and Katell Keinig (Hert)
DEBUT: Quin Kirchner, The Other Side of Time (Astral Spirits)
LATIN: Dos Santos, Logos (International Anthem)
I’m not going into the details of my list, since I pretty well fleshed out my thoughts and feelings in the official Best of 2018 list, as well as the various write-ups the albums received on this site and The Bandcamp Daily.
Some thoughts about the amalgamated top ten recordings of 2018:
Here’s the Critics’ amalgamated list (with total points and total voters following each):
A rather novel experience for me is how much comparison there is between the amalgamated top ten and my own ballot. Albums by Makaya McCraven, Ambrose Akinmusire, Myra Melford and Thumbscrew make an appearance in both mine and the NPR list. And at the other end of the spectrum, only three of my top ten selections (Juan Ibarra, Marike van Dijk and Roller Trio) went unselected by any other critic. That number has typically been twice that amount in previous years. In truth, I expect it to be higher most years. My site typically covers music that most other sites do not, which means the inclusion of that music on other writers’ top ten lists is unlikely to happen. But that’s where I think this site provides value to the ecosystem of modern jazz and improvised music writing… discovering the hidden gems from the obscure places and self-produced and small label sources, and spreading the word as far as I can. It’s a role I happily fill, and one that is endlessly rewarding.
This is the part of the year-end column when I continue to examine my ongoing struggle with the music of Mary Halvorson.
Mary Halvorson makes an appearance on the list both with her own Code Girl and the trio project Thumbscrew. Writers’ preoccupation with her music appears endless. That statement, apparently, also applies to me. I continue to find her music confounding.
I also find it unpleasant at times while also experiencing an odd fascination by it. She has about as singular a sound as any artist could possibly aspire to. She does her own thing in her own way and her music is a direct reflection of that personal journey… and it’s something that has my undying and sincere respect. But like Code Girl, it doesn’t end there… Halvorson gets involved in projects that see her stretching out further from her own unconventional sound in wide open, unexplored territories of unconventional music. Code Girl is a prime example, both in how the music manifests but also with the birds-of-a-feather she collaborates with. WTF is my response to this. WTF?
I’ve have been listening to the music of Ornette Coleman for a great many years. For a time, I was a bit addicted to it. That addiction incorporated much of the classic free jazz recordings of the day. Even that which I didn’t much take to, I felt a certain appreciation for. But Mary Halvorson has my wondering what my reaction would have been like had I been alive and a full-functioning adult when the free jazz wave hit during the sixties. I think perhaps my reaction to Ornette Coleman would not have been one of adoration, and would not have led to addiction. I think I would’ve been typing about Coleman’s music on my blog with the exact same word usage and descriptive terms as I do that of Mary Halvorson.
That gives me some hope that, with time, more of Halvorson’s music will eventually connect with me. It also has me increasingly convinced that the modern day Ornette Coleman is not a saxophonist at all… but a guitarist named Mary Halvorson. I really hope Halvorson keeps doing what she’s doing, and I hope eventually her music and my ear achieve a sort of communion. But even if that completeness isn’t achieved, I look forward to the experience… no matter how it shakes out.
That said, it’s obviously not complete alienation between us. The Thumbscrew dual release Ours/Theirs was my site’s #4 album of the year, and like many of the albums slotted in the top ten, it received some consideration for album of the year. All of these conflicted feelings and contradictory reactions make me very happy. Some art should do that to us. Sometimes the challenge presented is more subtle, and sometimes it’s a slap to the face. As it should be.
I have to admit to my enjoyment of this exercise, annually working my way through my latest explorations of Halvorson’s music, and its continued status as eternal adversary.
Wayne Shorter Wayne Shorter Wayne Shorter. It doesn’t particularly surprise me that the underwhelming Emanon received the top slot in the amalgamated list. Shorter is a jazz giant, one of the all-time greats, so any new recording is going to get an obscene amount of attention. And if it happens to be an event, like the multi-media project came to be, the pre-admiration of it is likely to be extravagant. Overall, I found the album tedious. There was moments to like, some moments shined bright, but, for me, the album just dragged along far too often. The graphic novel that accompanied it was, well, pretty cheesy and strangely archaic. It reminded me of the facile science fiction/fantasy stories of the 70s in magazines like Heavy Metal and Epic Illustrated… superficial tales attempting to make grand pronouncements and profound observations that the writers and artists simply weren’t up to the task to communicate.
But, shit, whatever, I’m glad Wayne Shorter is still out there making new music and trying new things. He recently received Kennedy Center honors, and watching him regaled for all of his career work made me so happy. I was teary-eyed seeing his reaction to it all. It was just so gratifying to see this artist who had made so much great music receiving the recognition he so richly deserved.
I was having a pleasant evening eating dinner at J.Gumbo’s Lex, a cajun and creole restaurant in Lexington’s NoLi neighborhood. I had a good book, a wonderful meal, a pint of beer from the nearby Rock House Brewing, and experiencing one of those sublime evenings where the simplicity of the details somehow add up to a subtle complexity of highly-charged emotional reactions that are best described as subdued magic. That magic truly manifested when the restaurant put on a new playlist that began with Wayne Shorter’s “Night Dreamer,” a song that is indelibly woven in the fabric of my past and of comforting, happy memories. That melody was the final ingredient to conjure up the spell that made my evening magical. That’s what Wayne Shorter means to me, and a thousand Emanons won’t ever change that. I stare at the album cover to Night Dreamer or Juju or Speak No Evil or hear any of that music, and windows open to past, wonderful memories that flood into my present consciousness, and fill my life with the residual happiness of days well lived.
And that about wraps it up for today. Remember, as I stressed previously, go to town on that NPR Music Jazz Critics list… and not just the top ten list, but all the albums that received votes. Many of them have been written about on this site, but this is a great opportunity for you to revisit some albums that maybe you didn’t give enough attention before. Or, inconceivably, albums I might not have sufficiently recognized for their genius and joy.
Thanks again for stopping by. I hope 2019 is the best year ever.
Cheers.
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By davesumner • Essays & Columns & Lists, Other Writing • 0 • Tags: Jazz - Best of 2018