Jazz Recommendations

This is an album that creeps up on the ear, and like a ocean tide slowly overtaking the shore, before one knows it, the music has completely immersed the listener.  For Momentus, Michael Webster has assembled a strong group to perform his original compositions, and the choice of personnel pays off big time.  For this is something of an alternate reality of a modern jazz recording… music with a sense of shifting phases just off the fringes of the expected.  And as several of this album’s personnel have proven on other recordings, this hazy medium is where they excel.

Your album personnel:  Michael Webster (tenor sax), Chris Dingman (vibes), Ingrid Jensen (trumpet, flugelhorn), Jared Schonig (drums), Ike Sturm (bass), and Jesse Lewis (guitar).

The music on Momentus presents itself with ambient textures that reveal their substantive side in sneaks and peeks.  This approach suits Dingman’s style perfectly, as he’s previously displayed a talent for eliciting a dreamy atmosphere from his vibes.  And while Lewis does have some combustible moments on guitar, like “Train Song,” his performance just further proves the hypothesis that guitar-vibes pairings are the perfect synthesis of bright heat and icy warmth.  And Webster utilizes his sax to wrap those two up with a bow while simultaneously guiding the ensemble through each song.

Jensen and Sturm pick their spots on trumpet and bass.  Of particular interest is the interplay between Jensen’s trumpet soaring over top of Dingman’s methodically constructed vibraphone rhythms.  Equally compelling is the engine-caboose effect of Schonig’s drums often meeting the charge of Webster’s sax while Sturm’s bass trails off the sentences off Dingman’s vibes.  When those two effects work in tandem, even better the results.

The tune “Beam Me Up” is a notch more upbeat than the other album tunes, and it gives the artists an opportunity to step up and solo a bit.  There gets a point during this tune that the album threatens to break the album’s overall ambient texture, but then Dingman meshes into a Jensen solo with a frenetic wave of vibes that transforms into a near drone, and that combo snaps the song into place.  And not even the heat brought by guitar and sax just after can do anything to break it.

The title-track is a breakthrough moment for the album.  Appearing half-way through the album’s span, it encapsulates much of what has come before and how the album will continue.  A driving tempo that plays out like a lazy drive through the countryside, vibes and sax construct layers of repetition that change incrementally while trumpet arcs overhead in a path that drums etch into the ground, and bass and guitar frame the song at opposite edges.  The volume and tempo rises and peaks and recedes and quiets.  There is a sense of unfinished thoughts, as the ensemble changes direction before waves crest.  And it’s the amalgamation of that series of unfinished thoughts that coalesces into a breathtaking mosaic, delivered in a soft and unassuming way.

Nifty how “Train Song,” with its heavy reliance on melodic and harmonic development contrasts with the rhythm-first approach of “Train Song Reprise.”

The album opens and closes with tunes that drift across the room.  “First Sunrise” gives hints of things to come.. a little thunder here, a little serenity there, slow loping notes on sax and trumpet contrasting with a rapid pace by bass and drums.  Whereas on album closer “Simple Wish,” the ensemble brings a sense of finality to the proceedings… a definitive touch.

An album that slowly unfolds, revealing its excellence in its own time and with a soft touch.  It’s not a recording that will require much patience to connect with, but I highly recommend sticking around for awhile until it does finally make that solid first impression.

Released on the Origin Arts label.

Jazz from NYC.

Available at eMusic.  Available at Amazon: CD | MP3

This is an album in constant motion.  It has a deceptive speed, like a slow river with a strong undertow.  It makes sharp cuts and takes unexpected angles, crossing ground with an efficiency that gives the impression of quickness and the presence of lazy afternoons.

But the thing of it is, Stefano Battaglia‘s Songways is an early morning album for people who like to wake slowly to the new day.  This is yet another modern jazz piano trio album released on the ECM Records label, in full embrace of the Nordic sound… drenched in serenity, respectful of the role of silence, and a lightness that could be mistaken for an ocean mist.

Your album personnel:  Stefano Battaglia (piano), Salvatore Maiore (double bass), and Roberto Dani (drums).

But this is why generalizations only apply on a superficial level.  Because the music here is not like all the rest of the ECM output.  There is a motion to this music that swirls and curls and dips, ceaseless, never stopping to hover or rest or float insubstantially in place.

This is music that reveals its dynamic nature in hints and subtleties.

This is up-tempo music for daydreamers.

This is music that sparkles like diamonds in a night sky just before sleep.

Some of this music flows like water over smooth rocks.  Some of this music crashes like rocks into a calm pool of water.  Battaglia’s piano rarely takes a linear approach, instead creates a winding path that circumnavigates a direct passage.  Maiore’s bass gurgles up from below the surface and fills the space between sounds before re-submerging.  Dani’s drums offer conventional sound with an unpredictable pattern, his percussion the pitter patter of drops falling from the sky at different speeds and from varied distances.  But in the end, ultimately, it embodies the motion of water.  A slow unhurried pace with the strength to pull the listener in.

Fully immersed.

Forever in motion.

And free and beautiful as life on the water.

Released on the ECM Records label.  It appears that you may be able to stream an album track (or more) at the ECM site, HERE.

Jazz from from Italy.

Available at eMusic.  Available at Amazon: CD | MP3

As much as I enjoy the experimentalism of modern jazz artists and the inventive directions they take as they expand the territory, there is something supremely refreshing about a new release that transports me decades back to when my listening time was dominated by albums with names like Art Blakey, Kenny Dorham, and Donald Byrd.  That’s a lot of the Jazz I grew up on, the Jazz that marks a definitive starting point for my original excursion into the genre.

Above the Clouds by the Terry Bartolotta Group recaptures much of the excitement of the bop era of the sixties.  It has the vibrancy of the present and the nostalgia of the past.  It’s the kind of album that can take a person back.

Your album personnel:  Terry Bartolotta (guitar), Nick Sednew (trumpet), Alex Beltran (tenor sax), Nathan Kawaller (bass), and Lucas Gillan (drums).

Bartolotta typically leads out on guitar, as he does on the opening track, but it really deserves mentioning that it’s the bass and drums combo of Kawaller and Gillan that establish this album’s presence.  Right from go, they set a brisk pace that stamps its mark upon this music, a mark that’s felt even when the tempo slows down later into ballad territory.  But when it comes to tempo on a Hard Bop performance, it’s not just about speed… just as essential is offering up a cheerful attitude, even when the rhythm takes a turn for the serious.  Hard Bop has a potent mix of speed and celebration, a joyfulness that often leaves in a cloud of dust.  On the first two album tracks, the title-track and then “Through the Square,” that’s what the Kawaller-Gillan duo create.

As I mentioned before, Bartolotta leads out on most tunes.  His guitar offers warm notes, bent like rays of refracted sunlight.  He shines both as soloist and as an accompanist, and specifically, it’s his transitions between those two roles that elicits some of the best moments of the album.  Too often, a musician who switches between lead and support roles offers up their parts as two unrelated approaches.  On guitar, Bartolotta makes that transition without finding in necessary to make a wholesale change in wardrobe.  There’s a cohesion to the facets of Bartolotta’s expressiveness, and it’s an achievement that allows a musician to create a sound that’s greater than the sum of its individual notes.

The opening two tracks are scorchers.  It isn’t until the third track, “Mood Piece,” that brings the first sign of a slower way of life.  Music swirls like wisps of smoke in a room with low ceilings, and at times, feels a bit insubstantial.  It isn’t until later on, when they take another shot at the ballad form with “Song For Amelia” that the quintet highlights their strengths at a slower gait.  There’s a greater confidence here in their expressions of delicacy.  Whereas on “Mood Piece,” they gave the impression of fearing they’d shatter the composition if they played with too much force, on “Song For Amelia,” they’re in better form, providing a weightiness to a smokey tune… a heavy impact at slow speeds.

The center of the album assumes a more casual pace than the album bookends.  It provides some decent breathing room for Sednew and Beltran to stretch out on trumpet and sax.  When playing side-by-side, their individual approaches offer the most rewards in the nuanced differences between the two.  But they contribute the strongest parts when the song is a race and they take turns handing the baton off to one another.  There is something so damn satisfying about the transition from brass to woodwind and back again when the musicians don’t miss a beat, ripping off notes that finish each others sentences.  Thrilling, really.

The album ends with “Aerial View of a City,” what may be the strongest track on the album.  There is something intriguingly modern in the way guitar washes across the surface of the music as trumpet and sax play over the top.  It’s a very cool form of accompaniment, and it ushers Bartolotta into a more conventional solo.  This song also marks a return to the fierce gallop and heat of the opening tracks.  Just a great way to finish things off.

Something here for everyone to like, but seeing as I often tend to feature the kind of music that strays out toward Jazz’s fringes, Above the Clouds is definitely one I recommend that the old-school Jazz fans scoop up.  These are young Jazz artists who clearly embrace a classic Jazz sound and use their voice to keep it going in the present day.

The album is Self-Produced.

Jazz from the Chicago scene.

Available at Bandcamp, where you can stream four of the album songs, as well as purchase the album in a number of file formats.

Available at eMusic.  Available at Amazon: CD | MP3

Stories like this next one serve as essential reminders of why we should never give up hope.  It’s about pianist Boyd Lee Dunlop and his sophomore release The Lake Reflections.

Dreams and good fortune operate under their own capricious rules and, oftentimes, seem to run contradictory to what we each of us may view as pragmatism or common sense.  Sometimes good things happen to us, seemingly, through no fault of our own, lacking any apparent causality, and yet confers the eminent vindication for refusing to quit.

Your album personnel:  Boyd Lee Dunlop (piano).

Boyd Lee Dunlop, all of 85 years old, released his first album in 2011.  Dunlop began playing piano at an early age.  Living in a poor section of Buffalo, NY, he used a junked piano with missing keys that sat out in his family’s back yard.  His brother, Frankie, played drums.  Frankie Dunlop later went on to have a storied career as a musician, playing on classic jazz albums (and personal favorites) like Thelonious Monk’s Criss Cross and Monk’s Dream and Monk’s live Newport recording with Miles Davis, as well as on Charles Mingus’s Tijuana Moods and Sonny Rollins’ Alfie soundtrack.  In the meantime, Boyd Lee stayed in Buffalo, playing the local circuit in between jobs at the steel mills.  The brothers had divergent career arcs.  Boyd’s path is not an uncommon one.

But then it does get a bit unusual.  In his 80’s, Boyd was now living in a Buffalo nursing home and passing his time playing a junked piano with missing keys that sat in the cafeteria… a piano, ironically, that was not too far removed from the piano that he first drew notes from for the first time nearly 70 years earlier.  Photographer Brendan Bannon visited the nursing home regarding an art project.  However, after meeting Boyd and hearing him play, it wasn’t long before Bannon collaborated with others to get Boyd’s music back into the public sphere.  The result was the 2011 release Boyd’s Blues.

With Buffalo musicians Sabu Adeyola on bass and Virgil Day on drums, the recording is a heartwarming set of straight-ahead classic jazz.  Blues with soul, bop with heart, and music that could not be mistaken for anything but Jazz.  The album, and Boyd’s story, got decent press, and was well received.  Dan Barry wrote a nice article for the New York Times and NPR pubbed an article and on-air story on its Weekend Edition feature.  Live performances were lined up.  Everyone likes a story about a huge comeback, and this one was a classic.

Not long after, Boyd suffered a severe heart attack.  And despite hovering close to death, Boyd has turned that setback into yet another chapter in his comeback story.  After a recovery period, Boyd decided the time was ripe for his sophomore release.

A solo piano recording, the songs on The Lake Reflections are inspired by photographs Brendan Bannon took of Lake Erie.  The music reflects the crisp serenity of the source material.  There is a stark beauty to this music, a warm stateliness that possesses both elegance and a smile.

And where Boyd’s Blues moved at a brisk stroll, The Lake Reflections has the slow unhurried pace of a body of water on a lazy afternoon.  Reminiscent of the music of fellow pianist Red Garland’s trio sessions, this is peaceful music that can fill a room with its sound, despite its unassuming, wisp-ish presence.

And it’s the music’s unhurried pace that is the album’s real charmer, in that it allows so much room for Dunlop to breathe.  Moments of dramatic expressiveness are able to maintain their composure within the solo context, and changes in tempo or emotional transitions from warmth to iciness have sufficient time to develop within the expanse of time from first note to last.

And that the music moves at a casual pace, with everything that Dunlop has been through and the numerous times he justifiably may have feared that time was running thin, it supremely illustrates the plateau he’s achieved, that he can come out the other side and record an album of meditative reflection that shines so bright in its own time.

Lovely music and a great story behind it.

Self-Produced, and released on Dunlop’s and Bannon’s Mr. B Sharp Records label.

Jazz from the Buffalo, NY scene.

Available at Amazon: CD | MP3

Boyd’s Blues, also available at Amazon: CD | MP3

And here’s the link again to Dunlop’s artist site.

And here’s the link again to Bannon’s artist site.

For the next couple days, I’m gonna feature albums that, in addition to being fine recordings, possess a personal interest story aspect that further motivated me to write about them.  Today’s is the first of those articles.  Let’s begin…

*****

I originally became familiar with pianist Walter Wolff via his participation on Changing Scenes by the Eef Van Breen ensemble.  Breen has been on my list for a little while to feature an album review (or two) in my Something Different series.  His music is a theatrical version of a Nordic Jazz sound… playful vocals, waves of strings, forlorn trumpet, and some contrasting serenity and dissonance.

Well, as I was compiling my eMusic Jazz Picks last week, I noticed that Wolff had a new album out.  It’s a good one.  Titled Tomorrow, it’s a real nice modern straight-ahead piano trio recording.  The album has some real substance to it, and it sort of got its hooks in me in that unique way that only a solid piano trio album can.

Your album personnel:  Walter Wolff (piano), Francesco Angiuli (bass), and Andreas Fryland (drums).

The album’s two strongest elements are the terrific melodies juxtaposed against nifty tweaking of cadences throughout.  The album opens with the brisk “Backstabber Bebopper,” which slides into a more casual pace for some decent soloing.  Even better is the feel of the album flow as it transitions into the languid pace of second track “Tomorrow,” which keeps a steady current of electricity flowing to keep the music from becoming fodder for daydreams.

“The White Guy” has a pleasant bounce.  The inexorable charge of walking bass lines crosses paths with playfully disjointed piano lines, while drums shadowboxes with both sections simultaneously.  And while Wolff’s thoughtful piano statements on “Jean” are plenty nice, it’s Fryland’s cymbal work that provides the winning moment.  It’s such a thin line at times between cymbal washes coming off as melodramatic or providing a refreshing sursurrance, and Fryland navigates it nicely.  “Jean” acts as a defacto interlude into the up-tempo “Simple Line,” and the contrast of the two songs benefits them both.  “Look At My Face” has a stilted cadence that draws the ear in, while “Simple Line” has a ponderous cadence set against a frenetic tumult.

The marvelous ebb and flow of the album keeps the ear hooked, without ever having to resort to drama or fireworks, and set against strong melodies that stick around even after the song is over, that’s why I made the album one of my eMusic Jazz Picks, and why I’m expanding on the album here.

And speaking of that weekly article, it’s on Wednesday’s that it gets published on eMusic, usually in the afternoon.  Then, that same evening, I typically hit the social media to promote it.  That involves visiting artist sites and tracking down things like Twitter addresses, Facebook URLs, etc.

Well, as part of that process, I was on Walter Wolff’s site, and noticed his message about having to give up piano and active performance for health reasons.  That, undoubtedly, is a hard thing to do.  I can’t imagine otherwise.  Every now and then I’ve tortured myself with the hypothetical scenario of what would I do were I not able to write anymore.  Take away that preeminent passion from my life, and how would I react?  I’m sure I’m not the only artist out there who allows those kinds of haunting thoughts to creep in needlessly.  No good comes of it.

But when I do it, one thing that troubles me is that I would leave no body of work behind.  Yes, I’ve written a couple fiction novels and a slew of short stories.  But nothing that’s been published, and, actually, most of the short stories are lost on old floppy discs, forever inaccessible in a prison of historic technology.  I want to make my mark in fiction.  I want to create something that will outlast me, a form of communication that the passing of time can’t extinguish.  And, I suppose in a way, I want to establish some sort of legacy… one that I could be proud of and look back upon with some satisfaction were I no longer able to continue on.

And that brings this column back to Walter Wolff.  I wrote today’s article primarily because Tomorrow is an album that people should know about, but also by way of pointing out that Tomorrow is something that will last, and that it adds to a respectable body of work that he should be proud of.  That’s no small thing.  In some ways, it’s everything.

Good luck, Walter.  All the best.

Released on the Challenge Records label.

Jazz from the Helsinki, Finland scene.

Available at eMusic.  Available at Amazon: CD | MP3

And here’s a link to Eef Van Breen’s Soundcloud page to stream some album tracks from the music I mention in the intro.