Bassist Lars Danielsson tightened things up a bit.  Quite a bit, actually.

Previous Danielsson releases played things looser when it came to form.  It’s not so much that the musicians colored outside the lines, it’s that they blurred the definition of the lines to the point where it was difficult to tell when they were outside versus in.  For instance, 2006’s Melange Bleu was a set of ethereal tunes that seemed without beginning and end.  And Danielsson’s 2009 release Tarantella had compositions not quite as heavy on the atmospherics, but the structure of the songs themselves seemed a secondary consideration.

This kind of approach to music can have all kinds of crazily attractive possibilities (in the instance of these Danielsson albums, a sense of dreams escaped from the Sandman, and hiding as songs), but the downside often is that the lack of form and structure makes for poorly retained memories of the music, and that the ethereal substance loses some of the visceral impact with the passing of time.

On Liberetto, the lines are thick, and all that color they hold within, it makes for songs bursting from the seams with personality.

Your album personnel:  Lars Danielsson (bass, cello, Wurlitzer piano on one track), Tigran Hamasyan (piano, vocals on one track), John Parricelli (guitar), Arve Henriksen (trumpet), and Magnus Öström (drums, percussion).

It would be difficult not to begin this review with mention of the change in personnel from Danielsson’s last albums for this one, especially the addition of former E.S.T. drummer Magnus Ostrom. It seems more than a coincidence that the cohesive song structure and expert use of dramatic ebb and flow of tension that was such an essential part of the E.S.T. equation is not employed on this Danielsson album.

The most positive change in approach for this album is reflected in the melodies.

There are tunes like “Hymnen,” album opener “Yerevan”, and album closer “Blå Ängar,” which come closest to past Danielsson efforts, with Henriksen’s trumpet setting a lullaby tone, then standing aside for Danielsson to lead the way to dreamland.  But even these stay on the reservation, never straying too far from the melody or the abiding reach for cohesion.

But many of the album’s tunes are typified by tracks like “Orange Market” and “Driven to Daylight” and title track “Liberetto”… tight melodies, folk music textures, and bursts of tension that bring the song to a boil.

“Svensk Lat” is a song split in two.  It begins as Folk, with Danielsson’s cello slicing wide arcs of hazy sound while Tigran diffuses piano phrases like architecture upon the song’s facade.  But then at the half-way mark, the song shifts dramatically into ferocity and drive more emblematic of Ostrom’s E.S.T. style of music.  That the before and after pictures are so unlike presents no obstacle, because even here, the melodies of each half tie out even if their delivery is so dramatically different.  The intriguing aspect about this tune is that the two primary characteristics of this album (folk and E.S.T.-catchy) are displayed, the former in the first half, the latter in the second, and yet even separated out like this, the song works, seamless in its transition between the two parts.  And the starkness of their differences makes their compatibility as cohabitants of every other tune that much more impressive.

It’s a beautiful album, one that is finely textured, while also such an easily embraceable recording.  At the time of this review (late July), I’ve got it slotted in the Top Ten of my Best of 2012 (thus far) list.  It deserves to be there.

Released on the ACT Music label.

Available at eMusic.  Available at Amazon: CD | MP3

This is something different.

Jacob Garchik‘s new album is a nine-part suite for trombone choir, all performed by himself and recorded in his home studio.  Subtitled “The Atheist Gospel Trombone Album,” The Heavens is Garchik’s sermon on his love of religious music, gospel especially, and his view of science and religion as it exists in our universe.

That’s your context.  The moral of the story is that this is an album of rousing tunes likely to get people up and out of their seats, and slap a big smiles on the faces of all.  But this isn’t some blatant misuse of an all-brass section’s inherent power.  There’s a tunefulness here, a respect that the melody needs to be handled with care, no matter how buff the instruments holding it may be.

Your album personnel:  Jacob Garchik (trombone, sousaphone, baritone horn, slide trumpet, alto horn).

Album opens with “Creation’s Creation,” just barely over a minute in length, and every second of it sonic beauty.  Sweet extended notes, harmonies like a warm embrace.

“The Problem of Suffering” is a struggling heartbeat, dangerously asynchronous, pounding strong.

“Optimism” bubbles over with enthusiasm, barely able to keep from running ahead.

“Dialog With My Great Grandfather” is a solemn treatise on the vast amounts of sorrow that notes may carry.

“Digression On The History Of Jews And Black Music” is full of fight and not afraid to let everyone know it.  Bouncing in place with an upbeat tempo, hands at its sides balled into fists of blaring notes, and volume that gets right in a listener’s face.

“This Song Is The Center Of The Universe” is a celebration.  Of Everything.

“The Heavens” is a Sunday morning prayer, to be relieved of the prior night’s sins and the current morning’s hangover.

“Glory/Infinity/Nothing” has the giddy build of intensity of the Isley Brothers’ “Shout.” The notes get faster and higher, and it’s easy to imagine a crowd of revelers giddily circling the bandstand.

Album ends with the sweetly lilting “Be Good.”  Trombones sing a melody that would make a pop song blush with envy, and harmonize with a warmth that would melt the most stubborn snowfall.

Most tunes are just a couple minutes long each, the longest being just over six minutes, and the entire album only runs for 28 minutes.  But the shortened length speaks well of the music’s succinct ideas, and the simplicity speaks to the heart of the music.

On his site, Garchik writes…

“I was inspired to create this project out of a deep love for gospel music, and for religious music in general.  I knew I had to play it but I wanted to do it on my own terms and in a way that was honest. In my mind, music and religion are both amazing reflections of human creativity.”

… The two things that stick out in my mind from that passage is the word ‘inspired’ and the phrase “I knew I had to play it.”  This tells me that the concept wasn’t some random Bright Idea that was more novelty than creativity, and that he was gonna make this album no matter what, that his intentions came from a creative need inside him, and again, not from some wouldn’t-it-be-cool kitschy epiphany.

Why is this important?  Because it goes to measuring just how truly remarkable it is that Garchik created an album with no possible commercial appeal from an inspiration that wasn’t even interested in taking commercial considerations into account, yet produced an album that, quite frankly, has the kind of crossover irresistibility that would make me feel comfortable recommending Heavens to people who are only casual music listeners.  It’s rare to find an album with High Art concepts and inspirations that also has a popular music quality that allows it to be appreciated as more than just an example of outstanding musicianship.

I think that’s pretty cool.

Jazz from the Brooklyn scene.

Released on Yestereve Records, which is Garchik’s own label.

You can read track-specific comments by Garchik on this page on his site.  They’re pretty neat.

The album is available on Garchik’s Bandcamp page, where you can stream the album in its entirety and purchase it in a number of file formats.

Available at Amazon (MP3).