Música Para un Dragon Dormido, the new release by Emilio Teubal is an album of boundless energy and dynamic rhythmic textures.  And yet, it’s the transcendent melodic warmth he brings to the percussive experience that marks this recording as something very special.  Reminiscent of a similar approach taken by fellow pianist Don Pullen during his later years with the African-Brazilian Connection, Teubal endows each song with a supreme loveliness that stands up to the album’s powerful rhythmic elements.

The result is a thrilling album that sounds so damn Big… a preeminent euphoria even when the musicians express themselves in subtle measured tones.

Your album personnel:  Emilio Teubal (piano, Korg SV-1), Sam Sadigursky (tenor & soprano saxes, clarinet, bass clarinet, flute), Moto Fukushima (6-string electric bass), Erik Friedlander (cello), John Hadfield (percussion), and Satoshi Takeishi (percussion, cajon).

Opening track “Un Simple Objeto” is a series of surging tides, an intermittent pulse that beats out increasing steps upward until, ultimately, launching itself out into space with long slow notes and drafting upon rhythmic currents.  It encapsulates the bigness of sound mentioned before, that such depth and detail could come from just this sextet.

“The Constant Reinventor” begins pensively with piano, the quiet drone of clarinet a match for its expressions of melancholia.  Eventually the chatter grows into something more affable, conjured up by the combo of Takeishi’s chippy percussion and the gurgle-blips of Fukushima’s bass.  But as is so typical of this album, the tide returns to its original state… piano grows pensive once again, this time bolstered by Friedlander’s long resonant cello notes.

“El Tema de Ludmila” begins up-tempo, but with a casual ease.  Sadigursky presents the melody repeatedly, builds up from it while percussion shifts beneath its feet.  Even when sax steps aside for Teubal’s piano section, there remains the sense of piano (and sax) surfing atop the churning waves of percussion.  The easily segmented textures working in cooperation results in a sound larger than its individual parts would normally indicate.  It’s a characteristic of this album that holds throughout.  It also makes this recording something special.

Fourth and fifth track “El Acrobata” and “Un Dragon Dormido” might well be considered the same composition.  It begins with silence, the merest peep from strings, a bit of percussion ideal for haunting, and keys ambling forlornly through space.  Time seems to stand still when cello strikes out on its own and takes center stage.  Suddenly, the music swells, cymbals crashing, sax crying out, keys humming resonantly, intensity rising.  And then, like so often on this recording, the rising intensity diffuses, and the most delicate expressions on sax and cello create a moment of great impact… bringing about a sea change of demeanor, from increasing power to restrained beauty… and the rest of the group falls into place.  Even near the song’s conclusion, when the intensity makes another go at achieving a higher plateau, the seeds planted by Friedlander and Sadigursky earlier on still resonate with a sublime majesty.

“La Espera” begins with a waltz elegance and a lullaby warmth.  Teubal stretches out for a nice section on piano, exceeded only, perhaps, by Fukushima’s lyrical display on bass.  The breakdown of this tune leads perfectly into the theme of subsequent track “Nikko.”  Built around the swirling patterns of repetition typical of Nik Bartsch’s Ronin, “Nikko” incites a resilient pace, speeding right along.  But not unlike the pattern of fast builds and sudden launches into space established in opening track “Un Simple Objeto,” Teubal restricts his use of Bartsch’s constructions to the intervals, allowing space for members of the sextet to stretch out… the repetition acting only as infrastructure.

“La Perla” begins sprightly on its toes.  Up-tempo, yet in possession of a buoyancy that transcends its cadence.

The album ends with “Milonga Para Terminar,” a whiling dervish of percussion, an unstoppable torrent of rhythm.  Led by Hadfield and Takeishi, it’s an odd ending to the album, but apparently a favorite composition of Teubal’s as signifier that, bam, the show is over.

Just an outstanding album.

Released on the Brooklyn Jazz Underground label.

Originally from Argentina, Teubal may now be residing in NYC.  This music is definitely informed by both locations.

Available at:  eMusic | CDBaby CD & Digital | Amazon MP3

The physical CD is also available at Teubal’s own site.

Interesting recording from guitarist Sean Moran, his first as session leader.  An album with its own personal geometry.  Tusk is music that approaches from unusual angles, and departs the same way.  Moran’s use of nylon string guitars gives the music an element that shifts things to something of a parallel universe of similar modern jazz recordings.

That the source material influences span across different genres only adds to the intrigue surrounding this music.  There is a chamber jazz ambiance to the recording, but that seems more as the inevitable result of the components Moran puts in play than any concrete plan going in.

This is music of perpetual changes in direction performed with the fluidity of leaves caught in the thrall of small wind flurries.  Though often pretty at times, the music is heavily indebted to its percussive qualities, and melodies behave as envious of their rhythmic counterparts, and skitter away in a formless reenactment.  Melodies are far more often felt than seen, and when seen, it’s typically only in glimpses.

Your album personnel:  Sean Moran (acoustic nylon string guitar), Harris Eisenstadt (drums), Chris Dingman (vibes), Michael McGinnis (clarinet, bass clarinet), and Reuben Radding (bass).

Opening track “Elliptical” presents itself as if coming strong with a melody, but in the act of unfolding, it becomes increasingly centered around a marching rhythm… a transition that creates a sense of deconstruction even as it becomes, in a way, more rigid.  The album presents other, similar incongruities to keep the ear entranced.

Some tracks aspire to a haunting presence, like “To the Edge of the World,” which offers sounds as unseen shapes looming just outside the periphery.  Others, though, offer a distant warmth… “Moon Reflected” rides the crest of McGinnis’s clarinet, a landmark of austere beauty that each of the other quintet members circle about and share in, like campers intermittently adding wood to the fire.  And “The Camel” has a folksy charm, leading out with Moran’s rustic sound on guitar, and accentuated by Eisenstadt on drums.

“Monkeytown” gets the pulse inching upward, buoyed primarily by Dingman’s vibes, and “Ten Mirrors” is a maelstrom of sound with Eisenstadt’s drums in midst of it all.  But for the most part, this is an album more acclimated to a hazy drift.

The footsteps of Radding’s bass on “Dream of Water” sends notes from McGinnis’s clarinet scattering in all directions. “Circle One, Two” is another tune that appears without structure, and is best to simply follow the path laid out by Dingman’s marvelous vibe-work.

An album where the listener follows the footsteps of percussion and not the path laid out by melody, yet still takes on an ethereal drift, and the incongruities of this unconventional album are the ingredients of its strange geometry.  Something a little bit different that goes a long way.

Released on the NCM East label.

Jazz from NYC.

You can stream the album, and purchase it, on the artist’s Bandcamp page.

Available at eMusic.  Available at Amazon: MP3

Worth mentioning that Moran is a member of the Four Bags outfit… a group I’ve liked for some time now, but other than a quick mention right when this site first began, haven’t really talked about them before.  Worth looking into.  Here’s a link to their Bandcamp page.