Posts tagged ‘phil freeman’

June 17, 2013

Hush Point

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by Phil Freeman

Hush Point is a new quartet featuring trumpeter John McNeil, saxophonist Jeremy Udden, bassist Aryeh Kobrinsky and drummer Vinnie Sperrazza. Their self-titled debut album came out last month on Sunnyside. (Buy it from Amazon.)

Hush Point (the album) is an extremely refreshing listen, within the context of contemporary New York jazz. It’s quite subdued music, on the surface; Sperrazza plays with brushes throughout, Kobrinsky’s bass sound is thick and soothing, reminiscent of Milt Hinton, and the tempos are medium to ballad. But McNeil and Udden are doing some pretty adventurous stuff on top of that steady rhythm bed.

The album begins with “Iranic,” a slightly Middle Eastern melody that quickly gives way to a lengthy, but mellow, solo from Udden; when McNeil re-enters at the two-minute mark, Kobrinsky and Sperrazza begin a series of mini-solos, in between short melodic phrases from both horns. Structurally and in its general mood, the piece is reminiscent of Ornette Coleman‘s “Focus on Sanity,” albeit even more subtle and gentle. “Peachful” starts off with a bluesy, almost New Orleans melody (though not nearly as corny as most New Orleans jazz) but gradually, patiently builds to some almost avant-garde interactions between the horns, before bringing it all back down to earth in a smooth resolution that feels perfectly timed and arranged. “Fathers and Sons” has the feel of Ornette in ballad mode, Udden wandering around melodically like he’s just singing a song to himself as he walks through an empty house, and when McNeil rejoins him, they play harmoniously in a way that recalls pieces like “Peace” or “Some Other” (from the too-little-heard To Whom Who Keeps a Record).

But to overemphasize the small touches that recall Ornette Coleman‘s work (or John Zorn‘s Masada quartet, in the case of “Finely Done”) is to mischaracterize the true nature of Hush Point (band, and album). What’s most exciting about this album is the way these four players blend avant/free approaches to melody and interplay with techniques that go back to jazz’s earliest days—there’s an almost Dixieland feel to “B. Remembered,” and “Cat Magnet” is a strutting, finger-snapping blues, something that feels shockingly rare in a time when many young, critically hailed jazz musicians seem wholly allergic to the blues, or to any melody that doesn’t shove exactly how long they spent practicing at college in your face. Half the time, the members of Hush Point don’t even seem like they’re playing for a listener; with its gentle, unobtrusive drums, throbbingly human bass, and whispering, breathy horn lines, the album can make you feel like you’re eavesdropping on a private conversation.

Stream “Peachful”:

Stream “Bar Talk”:

Buy Hush Point from Amazon

June 13, 2013

Eric Revis

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by Phil Freeman

Bassist Eric Revis‘s second album for the Portuguese Clean Feed label, City of Asylum, was recently released. It’s a follow-up of sorts to Parallax, an album featuring saxophonist Ken Vandermark, pianist Jason Moran, and drummer Nasheet Waits. That was an interesting collision, given that Moran, Revis and Waits are all black and all East Coast post-bop masters who’ve worked with Branford Marsalis, Andrew Hill and many, many others (Waits is also the drummer in Moran’s Bandwagon trio); Vandermark, by contrast, is a white, Chicago-based free jazz blower who divides his time between the US and Europe, where he allies himself primarily with players like Peter Brötzmann (with whom Revis has also played), Mats Gustafsson, and Paal Nilssen-Love, among others. It didn’t work all the time, but Parallax had its moments, for sure.

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City of Asylum shares neither personnel nor thematic commonalities with Parallax. It’s a piano trio date, featuring the bassist, Kris Davis on piano, and Andrew Cyrille on drums. Seven of its 10 tracks are improvisations—the other three are a version of Thelonious Monk‘s “Gallop’s Gallop,” a take on Keith Jarrett‘s “Prayer,” and “Question,” written by Revis.

The album’s first two pieces, “Vadim” and “Egon,” demonstrate both the potency of this trio and the risks of  unmediated interaction. There’s a lot of potential here—Revis and Cyrille almost establish a groove, Davis almost creates a melody the listener can hang onto—and a tremendous amount of eruptive creativity: stabs and flurries from the keyboard, a thick and driving bass throb, delicately dancing cymbals and evocative taps on the toms. But “Vadim” ends without having gone anywhere, or taken the listener on a journey; it’s just distraction. And “Egon,” pointillist and frenzied, with Revis bowing the bass madly, is even more abstract and less welcoming, and has nothing to do with what’s come before—the group has started all over again, from nothing, and the listener must effectively do the same. When the classically Monkian melody of “Gallop’s Gallop” is the next thing heard, it’s hard to not feel relief wash over you. Even so, Davis strives mightily to dissect and scatter the piece, reducing it to its component notes as Revis and Cyrille pulsate and rattle, avoiding the churning, broken-beat swing that was so essential to Monk’s music.

The album continues to vacillate between freely improvised pieces which offer moments of great beauty, but little lasting impact, and composed pieces which do much more. “Sot Avast” has a churning, almost marching rhythm reminiscent of Julius Hemphill‘s “Dogon A.D.,” especially when Revis returns to bowing the bass, creating thick, skull-filling drones. The group’s version of Keith Jarrett‘s “Prayer” is a slowly unfurling flower, easily the disc’s most emotionally resonant moment, while Revis’s composition “Question” has a Monkish feel all its own, and the band swings through it in an abstracted but forceful manner, Davis offering shimmering ripples and hypnotic, repeated phrases from the piano. The title track, which closes the disc, might be the most surprising piece here; Revis plucks some of the highest notes the bass can offer, sounding almost like a violin at times, while Davis darts about the keyboard, notes falling like raindrops on a pond, and Cyrille barely brushes the toms, rumbling like far-off elephants. It’s more like chamber jazz than anything that’s come before, and it demonstrates the possibilities of improvisation, when the players are 100 percent in mental and emotional sync, better than anything else on City of Asylum. This is an album with peaks and valleys, but it’s definitely one of the most interesting piano trio releases of 2013.

This trio will be performing at the Vision Festival on Saturday, June 15 at Roulette (509 Atlantic Ave. in Brooklyn). Full Vision Festival schedule here.

June 11, 2013

Black Sabbath

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by Phil Freeman

It’s 2013, and there’s a new Black Sabbath studio album. That’s surprising. It’s not the massive shock it was sold as being, when it was announced last year, of course. They’d been reuniting off and on for tours since 1997; I saw them on Ozzfest in 2004. But it’s still a major event in heavy metal culture, most of which descends directly from the first six Black Sabbath albums.

Black Sabbath‘s sound had four crucial elements—Ozzy Osbourne‘s vocals, Tony Iommi‘s guitar, Geezer Butler‘s bass and Bill Ward‘s drums. The latter two were arguably the most important, because Black Sabbath‘s approach to rhythm, particularly on their three best albums (1970′s Paranoid, 1971′s Master of Reality, and 1972′s Vol. 4), was unique in rock. It was a sort of caveman jazz, swinging and bluesy without the intricacy of fusion or the looseness-unto-aimlessness of the Grateful Dead. Instead of simply hammering home the riffs, the way the rhythm sections of bands like Cactus or Grand Funk Railroad did, Butler and Ward wandered around, exploring and extemporizing, but always making it back in time to bludgeon the listener at the perfect moment. So when it was announced that this reunion album would not feature Ward on drums—he bowed out, citing financial chicanery—there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth from fans, who believed the project to be damaged beyond repair, especially once his replacement was named: Brad Wilk of Rage Against the Machine and Audioslave, a capable hard rock drummer but one rooted in hip-hop, funk and metal, not the blues.

Of course, the deck was stacked against Wilk—and Sabbath—from the beginning. A great deal of the magic of the band’s classic records (basically, the first six, with the focus being on the 1970-72 trilogy cited above) was the organic, dudes-in-a-room-laying-tracks-to-tape feel they had. No record is made that way anymore, at least not when there’s major label money involved. Nobody plays whole songs through in the studio. This has been the simple, uncontestable truth for decades, even in the case of so-called “alternative” or “underground” rock. Most rock critics don’t say anything about it, because most rock critics have no idea how albums are actually made.

Listen closely to Nirvana‘s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and you can hear clearly that Dave Grohl‘s drum performance is looped—he recorded one verse and the chorus, and producer Butch Vig cut ‘n’ pasted his way to the end of the track. Contrast this to the making of the Stooges‘ 1970 album Fun House, during which the band ran through take after take of “TV Eye,” “Loose,” et al. until they had one that was golden. The complete Fun House session tapes were infamously released as a seven-CD boxed set a decade or so ago; it would be impossible to do anything similar for any modern album. Similarly, there was simply never going to be an opportunity for Geezer Butler to lock into an organic, fluctuating, live groove with Brad Wilk—this is the 21st Century, and the drummer’s playing is snapped to a ProTools grid throughout the album, which is called 13. (My assumption is that this title means to define the “real” Black Sabbath catalog as including the first eight albums with Ozzy, the three with Ronnie James DioHeaven and Hell, Mob Rules and Dehumanizer—and Born Again with Ian Gillan. And that’s it. All those ’80s and ’90s albums where Tony Iommi was virtually the last remaining member—Geezer Butler returned for 1994′s Cross Purposes, then departed again—have been excised from the canon.)

May 30, 2013

So Percussion – nAnP [neither Anvil nor Pulley]

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So Percussion‘s new album, nAnP [neither Anvil nor Pulley], was released this week digitally and…otherwise.

The album is about 45 minutes long, and offers a single piece broken into five movements, scored for a turntable (which plays an LP of old-timey fiddle tunes performed by the piece’s composer, Dan Trueman); virtual metronomes, clicking relentlessly but reset by striking raw chunks of wood; repurposed golf video game controllers—joysticks with pull-strings, a.k.a. “the tethers”; a single bass drum with speaker drivers attached; drum machines; and of course the four percussionists who make up So Percussion. The piece conjures a pinging, rattling, booming, but ultimately very gentle and spacious sound-world, closer to the quieter moments of Aphex Twin, Autechre or Photek than anything “classical” (though parts of it also remind me of Steve Reich and of Chinese ritual music). It’s really a remarkable piece, one of the most unique and fascinating works I’ve heard so far this year.

The five movements are:

Act 1: Another Wallflower [from Long Ago]

Act 2: 120bpm [or, What is your Metronome Thinking?]

Act 3: A Cow Call [please oh Please Come Home!]

Act 4: Feedback [in Which a Famous Bach Prelude becomes Ill-Tempered]

Act 5: Hang Dog Springar [a Slow Dance]

If you just want the MP3s, you can get them via Amazon or iTunes, as you would with any other record. But they’re also offering a couple of cool physical-object options ranging in price from $20 to $200, and available via bangonacan.org:

- a repurposed LP from a used record store [video explanation/demonstration here]: On the front and back of each LP, the nAnP artwork (designed by Frank Olinsky) is affixed as a sticker. Inside is the original used record (original music to be discovered) plus a download card with link to the digital booklet for nAnP.

- an interactive speaker driver [video explanation/demonstration here]. The device used to create feedback on the bass drum in the fourth movement, along with the download card and link to the digital booklet. Package includes 1/8” cables that can be plugged into an iPod or computer to interact with the piece.

- an interactive tether controller [video explanation/demonstration here]. The golf video game controllers used in 120bpm to play sound files, along with the download card, link to the digital booklet, and a link to download custom playable software by Dan Trueman.

There’s a video of the full piece after the jump.

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