Archive for April, 2011

April 25, 2011

Other Dimensions In Music Featuring Fay Victor

Kaiso Stories (Silkheart)

by Phil Freeman

Buy it from the label

Other Dimensions in Music don’t record or perform nearly as often as they should. The fully improvising quartet, composed of trumpeter Roy Campbell, saxophonist Daniel Carter, bassist William Parker and drummer Charles Downs (on their 2007 double live CD Live at the Sunset, recorded in Paris, Hamid Drake subbed in for Downs), only has five releases to its name, including this one. Kaiso Stories marks the group’s return to the Silkheart label, for which they recorded their self-titled debut way back in 1989. They later released two albums for AUM Fidelity—1997′s Now! and 2000′s Time is of the Essence; The Essence is Beyond Time, the latter a live collaboration with Matthew Shipp—and Live at the Sunset was released on the French Marge label. Very little has been heard of the group in the last four or five years, so this release comes as something of a very pleasant surprise.

Three of the group’s four members—Campbell, Parker and Downs—began working together as members of Jemeel Moondoc‘s group Muntu. Three different versions of Muntu—the quartet, a Moondoc/Parker/Downs trio, and a quintet featuring pianist Mark Hennen and trumpeter Arthur Williams, can be heard on the three-CD set Muntu Recordings, released last year by the Lithuanian NoBusiness label. Unfortunately, the group dissolved in the early 1980s when Cecil Taylor “borrowed” Parker and Downs for his group (they can be heard on his albums The Eighth and Nicaragua No Pasaran).

Other Dimensions’ debut album, recorded in the studio, is somewhat stiff and lacks the fluidity of their later work, but it’s an extremely lyrical, melodic  and groove-based effort that may surprise listeners coming in expecting blare. Now!, the group’s hands-down masterpiece, takes the melodic sense and enthusiasm for pure beauty that was already present on the debut and ramps it up a thousandfold. Campbell and Carter dance delicately around each other, weaving ribbons of light with their horns as Parker and Downs alternately swing, groove and throb. Whether cantering forward or swaying through a mournful ballad, Other Dimensions always seems to balance a dreamlike Zen calm with a quality of intense collective listening—no one is using his bandmates as a mere springboard or platform upon which to showboat. It’s all about the group sound, at all times. Time is of the Essence, on which Shipp joins them, is more conventionally “free jazz,” the piano anchoring the improvisation in ways that are sometimes rewarding and sometimes not, and on Live at the Sunset, the band explores groove more explicitly, because that’s Hamid Drake’s forte. He’s a hard-swinging drummer who likes a backbeat, where Downs has a much lighter touch and a more abstract sense of time.

Kaiso Stories finds the quartet backing vocalist Fay Victor on a series of improvised pieces to which she sets classic calypso lyrics. Some of the songs date back as far as the 1930s. Victor’s voice is similar to other out-jazz vocalists (Linda Sharrock, Jeanne Lee), but without many of the ululations and howls those singers indulged in, and her accent is thick, whether it’s put on for the material or like that all the time (this is my first experience with her work). Ultimately, it’s the voice of an old woman; she chants more than she sings, and honestly, as a young(ish), white listener with little or no knowledge of calypso music or the culture of Trinidad and Tobago, I’m somewhat put in mind of a voodoo woman in some kitschy horror movie, especially when the lyrics start to be about Shango.

The music is typical ODIM, gently pulsing, with Parker rocking endless swinging grooves and Downs tapping the cymbals as Campbell and Carter trade ideas back and forth. There are no truly obstreperous passages, but plenty of beautiful moments. The tracks are mostly long, anywhere between seven and 15 minutes, so while Victor’s lyrics take precedence early on each time, everybody gets room to stretch out by the end. The disc is nearly 75 minutes long, all told. Don’t let the vocals put you off, as they did me. It took me four or five tries to break the surface tension and get inside the music. But now I can see myself returning to this album with some frequency. If you’ve liked Other Dimensions in Music’s previous work, you’ll like Kaiso Stories.

April 19, 2011

Interview: Orthodox

Spanish doom-metal-and-more trio Orthodox were profiled in Burning Ambulance #1, and their album Baal was reviewed here not long ago. This interview with bassist/vocalist Marco Serrato Gallardo and drummer Borja Díaz Vera was conducted via email. Enjoy!

Each of your albums has been very different from the one before—Gran Poder was the most straightforward doom metal record in your catalog, Amanecer en Puerta Oscura added horns, Sentencia was almost a jazz record, and now Baal is like garage rock. What inspired each step in your musical journey?
Borja Díaz Vera (drums): Personally I don’t see our albums so different between them, at least in the music content. We have used different instrumentation on every album (electric guitars, double bass, clarinet, trumpet, keyboards, etc.), returning to a free power trio format on Baal, but our goal has been always the same: to play the heaviest and weirdest as we can, no matter of the instrumentation. The first three albums were linked explicitly with the quest of our sound and with some concepts and visions we had at the moment; I’m referring for example about our religious and cultural environment or the use of acoustic instruments within a heavy context. Gran Poder, Amanecer en Puerta Oscura and Sentencia are like a creative continuum for us. When that trilogy was done, we didn’t know where we were, so we started to make songs…and that’s where we are right now.

The garage rock sound on Baal seems like a step backward, musically, a deliberate move toward primitivism, after the ritualistic jazz of Sentencia. Why did you choose this sound for this record?
Borja: All our albums are a chant towards primitivism, but I can understand you…After an album with almost no guitars, I suppose Baalcan be considered a very straightforward one. But for us it was also a difficult album in the sense that we have never done before an album based on songs, so, for me, Baal is very different from the others, Gran Poder included. To make the songs of the new album we didn’t start from zero, we have been playing as a unit for some years so we take the elements of our sound, trying to develop them in a song format. We take the misty heaviness of Gran Poder, the amorphous improvisation and psychedelic edge of Amanecer… and the epic and mighty vocals from Sentencia to make songs. We have done an album we can actually play live almost entirely the three of us that containts elements of our previous albums, with “standard” moments (for us), but with an experimental and personal core that permeates the whole album. Baal can be considered a step backward, but a conscious one; we have done this album knowing what we have done before. It’s the first time we have looked back to our previous efforts. I think that if this is the first album composed entirely of songs, that makes the difference. Baal, then, is another different album. To make songs for the first time in a traditional manner trying to recreate your sound isn’t the easiest thing… I suppose that Baal sounds to you like garage rock because of the production. The basic tracks are the three of us playing together, with mistakes and fucked-up moments, so it sounds raw and dark. If we were recording Baal again we would do it differently sound-wise (for example, the drums are a little low tuned and remain buried in the mix), but I think it has a certain aura, “garage” aura if you like…It reminds me a little of the A Blaze in the Northern Sky sound.

Marco Serrato Gallardo (bass/vocals): being more cynical about that, I’d say that Baal is a deliberately “Orthodox average metal album.” After three albums that were seen as suprise after surprise, we wanted to know how an average Orthodox album would be. But making this is some kind of victory for us. Why can bands like AC/DC, Motörhead or Iron Maiden make a long list of average albums? Because they have created a unique sound.  And that’s what we wanted to show… Of course, it’s not as respresentative of our sound as Amanecer en Puerta Oscura, because on this one, to give that average feeling, we focused on our metal-power-trio sound. “Taurus,” for example, is an average Orthodox single. We could make one album like this every year… but we won’t, because now we know how would it be… enough, ha ha!

Why are you singing in English on this record? Are there ideas that are better communicated in English than in Spanish? And on previous records, was the use of Spanish important to the lyrical and philosophical concepts you were talking about?
Marco: I’ve been singing in English since our first album. I sing some songs or some parts in Latin and also used Spanish titles, even some Italian words too… I’d liked the idea of mixing idioms like in the motetes of the XVI Century. For us everything is said in the music. Of course we take a lot of care about the lyrics, but everything must be in the music. About my English pronunciation, I’ve never tried to improve it. I’d like to keep my Spanish accent for it. Don’t want to talk English like a guy from London or New York, I speak English like a Spaniard. We love our idiom and that’s why we use it for titles, but it doesn’t work for rock or metal. English is very easy to use because words are shorter and you can do anything you want with them. Spanish is more complex, and for us it only works well with flamenco and traditional Spanish music. And I can’t even try to sing a flamenco melody, that’s a serious thing. Of course that exotic vibe that people from some countries get is an influence of “saeta,” a kind of singing from the medieval times based in a modal monodic chant which is common in many ways with lots of music across the Mediterranean since days of old… but you can get it also in Sleep‘s Jerusalem! When I started singing in Orthodox I had in mind people like Joe Preston, Steve Austin or Scott Kelly… but Al Cisneros and Sleep’s Jerusalem gave me the key to use that way of singing in metal. It came very naturally becuase it’s very similar to some European ancient music.

Who is the group’s primary songwriter? The drums seem very important to the music—whatever the drums are doing seems to determine what everyone else will do. Is this true?
Marco: Talking about first ideas or seeds of the songs it’s mostly Ricardo [Jimenez Gómez, guitar] and me. Ricardo and I played together for a few years before Borja came in (not as Orthodox). When we met Borja the Orthodox sound came as magic. He never had a drum lesson, it’s a very strange drummer and that’s why everything we wrote sounded different when Borja introduced his part. We write our stuff knowing that he would add some crazy thing to it. So he is an essential part of our sound even if he doesn’t write the main riff.

Anyway, except for a few songs we build the songs together in the rehearsal room playing as a band…“Con sangre de quien te ofenda” was born from a Borja drum idea actually.

Why did you abandon the robes you wore on early releases?
Borja: We did it basically because it was a little dangerous onstage for us, in terms of performing. The robes fit our concept and sound very well, they are minimal and despersonalize the performer, so the audience has to be focused on the music, but when an amp is broken or you have technical problems onstage, and you don’t have roadies to help you, the solemn mood the robes create is lost. So we abandoned the robes for convenience, but it’s not an exact fact: we still use them with when we play with Israel Galván, a flamenco dancer. We play in one of his spectacles (El final de este estado de cosas), in theaters, a very controlled environment where you can concentrate on the performance and not on the many extra things involved in a show…Playing material like “Ascención” live wrapped in robes has to be living hell…

Your first two albums were released in the US by Southern Lord Records. Are there any plans to license Sentencia and Baal to a North American label?
Borja: Right now there aren’t plans to license our two last albums on a North American label (or any label). It is supposed that Alone Records has its albums distributed there via CobraSide Distribution, but I honestly don’t know if they are easy to find or cheap to buy…

Do you have any way of coming to the US for a tour, or is it too expensive and unrewarding without a US record deal?
Borja: There are no plans to go there. Like you say, without an US label behind us it’s a hard task, and we haven’t received any proper offer. It’s not the easiest thing to go there; you have to put your daily life on hold and take some risks that I don’t think we can take at this moment…The closest thing to a US tour are some dates we’re doing next May in Canada with Israel Galván.

April 13, 2011

Combat Astronomy

Flak Planet (self-released)

by Phil Freeman

Do you like a little bit (okay, a whole lot) of metal in your jazz, or jazz in your metal? You’re not alone. The sound of the world being destroyed appeals to many, and it can take many forms. During the mid-1990s, there was a mini-wave of harsh, noisy, bass-obsessed stuff around that rattled, rumbled and throbbed like a furnace on the brink of exploding, with screaming saxophones (or farting bass clarinets) providing tenuous links to Mingus, Ayler and/or Brötzmann, and occasional outbursts of dissonant post-metal guitar. A list of the essential documents of this particular sub-sub-subgenre would include the following:

God‘s Loco and Possession
16-17‘s Gyatso
Paul Schütze‘s New Maps of Hell, The Rapture of Metals and Site Anubis
Borbetomagus‘s Zurich, Live in Allentown and Buncha Hair That Long
Naked City‘s Leng T’Che
PainKiller‘s Execution Ground
Peter and Caspar Brötzmann‘s Last Home

The sixth and latest disc from Combat Astronomy fits right in alongside these earlier monoliths of skronk and listener punishment, and adds a little bit of Meshuggah‘s stuttering, off-time brutality to the mix. Main dude James Huggett is the bassist and producer. He’s joined here by Mick Beck on tenor sax and bassoon; Mike Ward on tenor sax, bass and concert flutes, reindeer horn and drone flute; and Martin Archer on organ, electronics, zither, tambourine, sopranino, alto and baritone saxes, Bb and bass clarinets, and bass recorder. The drums are all programmed, but don’t sound it. They’ve got a tribal thump that’s very reminiscent of God, especially when the horns are surging around and the bass is creating wave upon wave of distortion and sludge. Unlike some of the band’s earlier work, there are no vocals. This is a good thing. Music like this should—and in this case does—come at you implacably, like a tank rolling over an endless road paved with human bones.

Not everything here is based on the formula of massive bass + tribal drums + wailing horns = awesome. “Zona” features ritual flutes and jarring, post-Cecil Taylor piano, alternating with massive bass and tribal drums. But the heart of the album is a terrifically God-like suite, “Inverted Universe” parts 1-4, that sounds like whales surfacing and preparing for combat with man. The horns blare in repeating, hypnotic figures somewhat reminiscent of the fanfare sections of John Coltrane‘s Ascension, before the thundering beats and endlessly grinding bass throbs take over. Other albums by Combat Astronomy have been compared to Magma, but that group never did anything 1/16 this heavy. This is music designed to be played through speakers the size of walk-in freezer doors. And it’s viscerally gripping in a way very little music is these days.

Flak Planet is available directly from the band via their Bandcamp page. Highly recommended.

April 11, 2011

Darius Jones/Matthew Shipp

Cosmic Lieder (AUM Fidelity)

by R. Emmet Sweeney

Buy it from Amazon

Pianist Matthew Shipp (who was profiled in the very first issue of Burning Ambulance) turned 50 years old at the end of 2010, and 2011 finds him simultaneously looking toward the past and future. Earlier this year, he released Art of the Improviser, while this week his duo with Darius Jones (profiled in the second issue of Burning Ambulance), Cosmic Lieder, hits stores.

The former is a summation of his work in solo and trio formats. Split into two discs, it revisits earlier compositions and applies his fractured melodic sensibility to standards including “Fly Me to the Moon.” Released on Thirsty Ear, the label that’s been his home base since 1999, it was a victory lap of sorts, celebrating his indomitable independence over the last five decades.

Cosmic Lieder finds him looking ahead with the help of protean alto saxophonist Jones. Since his move from Virginia to NYC in 2005, Jones has placed his raw tone in the service of a dizzying array of projects, from his bluesy debut as a leader, Man’ish Boy, to the raucous noise outfit Little Women. His album with Shipp is an invigorating conversation between two deeply idiosyncratic musical minds.

The album title gives a clue as to their goals in this compelling song cycle. “Lieder” is simply the German word for songs, although for English speakers it has tended to indicate European romantic tunes, often composed to accompany poems, like Franz Schubert’s “Death and the Maiden.” Cosmic Lieder begins with airy and plaintive constructions, mood pieces that spin out glancing harmonies that never cohere into melodies. In “Bleed,” the piano and saxophone dance around each other in a never-consummated romance.

It is in the fourth track, “Multiverse,” that things start getting cosmic, reaching out instead of exploring within. It begins with Jones laying out a tightly packed figure sliding up and down the scale, with Shipp offering rumbling bass accompaniment. They then stagger back and forth until Jones begins more throaty exhortations, which coalesce into an abrasively overpowering squawking air-horn attack. Shipp pounds out chords in an escalating frenzy until both have made the interplanetary contact their song title implies.

The sci-fi vibe continues with “Mandrakk,” which could be the name of a particularly vicious Godzilla foe (I’m seeing a giant komodo dragon). The music could be the monster’s love theme. It kicks off with some plucked piano strings and a low roar from Jones. Shipp muffles the strings while hitting the hammer, getting a harpsichord-like sound as Jones works up into the upper register, a lonely cry for our otherworldly beast. These are uncanny sounds that Bernard Herrmann, in an adventurous mood, could have co-opted for his theremin-soaked score for The Day the Earth Stood Still. It ends with a fluttering saxophone figure and a blunt exclamation from Shipp, closing another of these bewitching miniatures (none of the 13 tracks run far over 3 minutes).

Cosmic Lieder is an evocative but teasing album, churning up musical ideas and exploding them within a few phrases. Filled with the uncertainties of a first encounter, each tune is a provocative exploration that tests each musician’s boundaries. An exemplary minor work that eschews major thematic statements, it finds movement and harmony in the shadowy cul-de-sacs of their restive imaginations.

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