The newest from the Underpool studio & label might just be their best-to-date.  It’s the way big statements emerge from out of nowhere, and how incisive melodicism evolves from within the randomness of improvisation.  Underpool 4 ranges in expression from electro-acoustic groove to straight-ahead post-bop to a shimmery Brian Blade Fellowship nu-jazz, and all of it is anchored to strong melodies and driven along by conversant rhythms.

Bringing together various artists from the Barcelona scene for short-term collaborations, the Underpool studio & label provides an outlet for musicians to contribute compositions to the session while learning to adapt to and improvise on the compositions of their ensemble mates.  For the newest, it’s a quintet formation, and the way they come together is solidly reflected in the bold, anthemic passages.

It starts out with a bit of sleight-of-hand, not immediately revealing the trait that will come to define the album.  The seemingly innocuous mumbling of “Impro 1,” through sheer force of will and sonic accumulation, becomes a heavy drone with a heavy presence.  This feeling of intensity and depth hits a full bloom on “Praia de Moreré,” with its thick melody warm as sunshine and bold as the sun.

The trumpet-tenor sax duo of Àlvar Monfort and Lucas Martínez blasting away on the melody on “Plus” is plenty dramatic, but resonating even stronger is when the ensemble drops the intensity to the floor, and the guitar of Jordi Matas entwines with saxophone around the melody, stating it much more sweetly while letting the beauty shine as strongly as it roared.  That it’s immediately preceded by a deceptively languorous opening and an undeniably chaotic middle only makes the effect that much more profound.

Drummer Pep Mula has a nifty way of guiding a tune at a brisk pace and yet still freeing his quintet mates to choose slower speeds when the moment seizes them.  “Tot es Desfà” has a song in its heart and practically whistles out the melody, but it’s the way in which that melody is strung out across the peaks of the cadence, notes allowed to linger in the air, building anticipation for the next expression.  And then in the latter half, when the song displays its combustible side via electric guitar, the resulting directness creates a tantalizing bit of contrast to the extreme patience displayed in the opening.  And all of this is shaped by the preceding ballad “Song for Alba” and the way it points to the path ahead with moonlight, thick with melancholy and just as soft.

The quirky “Una de Zombies” is something of the exception that proves the rule.  Electronic murmuring accompanies fragmentary melodic statements that take an indirect route to their final destination.  There’s no fireworks and there’s no huge pronouncements, and the way this song diverges from the predominant mold that other album tracks have been cut from is abundantly obvious and strangely compelling.  In much the same way a black sheep can give further definition to the group identity, so does the meandering “Una de Zombies.”

The album ends with “Impro 2,” the mirror vision opposite of opening track “Impro 1.”  The finale works an electro-groove and euphoric shouts of melody for some laid-back tunefulness.  Bolstered by the groundwork set by keyboardist Abel Boquera, each of the quintet members raise up their voices with an off-the-cuff looseness that sometimes trails away in opposite directions and sometimes converge upon one another, creating new sounds out of old.

Just another very cool, very engaging new release from the Underpool Collective.  Expect me to be writing more about that label’s other recordings, but start buying now.

Your album personnel:  Àlvar Monfort (trumpet), Lucas Martínez (tenor sax), Jordi Matas (guitar), Abel Boquera (keyboards) and Pep Mula (drums).

Released on Underpool.

Visit an artist site.

Listen to more of the album at the label’s Bandcamp site.

Available at:  eMusic | Bandcamp | Amazon

And speaking of other writing on the Underpool label, here’s a LINK to a write-up of their second collective release, Underpool Dos!

A New Kind of Dance is going back to the old neighborhood.  It’s revisiting the old times in the days when they were new.  It’s when hard bop and avant-garde weren’t separate schools of thought and when the horizon lines of each-both seemed endless.  This is Jackie McLean’s New & Old Gospel, but it goes down smoother and it’s preaching to the choir today with a new kind of bop.  This isn’t the first time drummer Mike Reed’s People Places & Things quartet have attempted a convergence of past and present, but it’s an easy argument to make that it represents their best.

The easy swing of “Reesie’s Waltz” is a ballad that’s all heart, and when its structure breaks down and its volatility shoots straight up, Reed reminds us that a heart in love can just as easily become a conflagration of emotions not so easily encapsulated by the soft touch of a beautiful melody.

The phasing in and out of structure, shape and direction is applied generously throughout the recording, and each time to wonderful effect.  The frenzied combinations that lead out on “Candyland” sing a joyful tune, happy as can be.  And when the song begins to tumble and twirl in directions the opening melody never hinted at, the prevailing sense of wild abandon and unrelenting fun eclipse the tumultuous passages and provide a sense of cohesion as if nothing is at all out of sorts.

This deft ability to direct even the craziest notion of motion is put to excellent use on the get up and shout gospel of title-track “A New Kind of Dance,” charging forward with speed and intensity, yet in possession of the flowing motion of one long, fluid breath.  They apply a subtler touch on “Jackie’s Tune,” which is either your soundtrack for a casual afternoon stroll through the park or late night cool at the bar.  “Wonderland” scales things down even further, but its untamed nuance makes it much more difficult to map out.

That the group can park a rendition of Strayhorn & Ellington’s “Star Crossed Lovers” right up against the fender of Mos Def’s “Fear Not of Man” and it all sounds like the same heartbeat from the same era, either or both, is the clinching proof of the album’s success.

I already liked Mike Reed’s music, but this album just blows me away.  New-school jazz fans will love the album’s sense of irreverence while swimming the sea of tradition.  Old-school fans who pine for the inside-out era are going to go crazy for this recording.  Go buy it.  You can’t go wrong with this one.

Your album personnel:  Mike Reed (drums), Greg Ward (alto sax), Tim Haldeman (tenor sax), Jason Roebke (bass) and guests:  Marquis Hill (trumpet) and Matthew Shipp (piano).

Released on 482 Music.

Jazz from the Chicago scene.

Available at:  eMusic | Amazon