Monthly Archives: January 2014

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