Bassist Anders Jormin is, perhaps, best known for his collaborations with Bobo Stenson and Charles Lloyd, though he’s also put out a decent set of music under his own name.  If you browse through the ECM catalog at any length, chances are, you’re gonna see Anders’ name listed amongst the credits of many good albums.  His brother Christian Jormin is also part of the Scandinavian scene, working that same peaceful quasi-jazz sound.  Of course, both brothers joined Mats Gustafsson on the Ornette Coleman tribute album Opus Apus, so it’s not like they can’t jack up the voltage on their music.

But that’s not what their new release Provenance is about.  This duo collaboration between the brothers Jormin is about quiet music for quiet rooms.  Tracks like “And Yet, I Wish You Well,” with its murmurs of bass arco, the rustle of percussion, and the solace of thoughtful, comforting words from piano, and “Laid on Straw,” with its bubbly cheerfulness expressed with a modicum of restraint or “Herding Song,” which takes a melancholy turn, these are the tones that represent the heart of this album.

A few tracks like “Bismillah” and “Villages and Rivers” dig into some upbeat material, but for the most part, this is an album of music that pairs well with sunrises on lazy Sunday mornings… solemn music that respects the silence sacrificed in order to give it a listen.

Your album personnel:  Anders Jormin (acoustic bass) and Christian Jormin (piano, percussion)

Released on Footprint Records & Naxos Sweden.

Available at:  eMusic | Amazon MP3

The If Trio does not provide a map.  You are expected to follow along, with little advance notice given on a song’s destination or the path it will take to get there.  The ingredients of chamber music and jazz come through clearly on Imaginary Folklores, but it’s the mix of folk musics represented primarily by the French, Finnish, and Argentinean origins of the trio members that strikes the lasting impression.

Your album personnel: Otso Lähdeoja (guitar), Florian Guibert (flute), and Mauro Sarachian (cello).

The melodies behave less as statements of intent as they do seeds for growth and improvisation.  Within moments, the opening stanza of “Dans le Decor” is out the door and gone without a trace, sending only a brief postcard near the song’s end as a reminder of its existence, and “Stratometriques” is only a shadow of its former self by the time the song reaches its conclusion.

Tempos are about motion, not timekeeping, of shifts from the frenetically churning of rhythms into gentle swooning passages with a predisposition to take off and soar.  The burst of hyperactivity from “Nijdgu,” with its variable motion and slippery melody contrast nicely with the ambling cadence and rustic charm of “La Bataille.”

The flute of Florian Guibert darts about furtively, then breaks suddenly into a soothing melodic drift.  “Capricorne” is a tango caught in a wind gust, and Guibert matches the speedy drafts note for note, whereas on the moody “Sirius B,” he orbit the melody with a simple ease.

The cello of Mauro Sarachian broods and growls, but no matter how ornery it becomes, the instrument’s resonant beauty eclipses its darker tones with brightly lit displays of elegance.  When out front, as on “Dans le Decor,” its sonic fullness has the presence of a roar, whereas on “Ombras,” it swells with intensity, then recoils back to a state of melodic grace.

On guitar, Otso Lähdeoja personifies the album’s mannerisms, those cues that put everything else in the proper context… the chatty accompaniment on “Stratometriques” casts in a cheerful light what might otherwise be viewed as a gloomy tune, and his indie-folk approach on “Sirius B” provides an ear-to-the-soil circumspection to the song’s modern classical leanings.

An enchanting album that grows more beguiling the more one spends time listening.

Released on Home Records (Belgium).

Available at:  Bandcamp | Amazon MP3