Jason Kao Hwang and Burning Bridge's Blood

"Driving down on an unlit highway, my headlights flashed upon the bleeding carcass of a deer."

So begins the liner notes of Jason Kao Hwang's new album, Blood. Whenever I see Hwang's name attached to a musical project, I know it's going to be a challenge, I know it's going to be out there. Hwang, an avant-garde violinist, has crossed my path before with Sing House, which prompted me to conclude that "I'm still working on it. One day I may work it out in my mind, or I might just go back to my Dean Martin, Julie London and Harry Belafonte albums." He also performed on Michael Moss' Heli, a free jazz fever dream that I called "a daunting task, especially when you consider that most mainstream jazz fans might night make it through to the end."

Blood, performed with the Burning Bridge ensemble, starts off just as jagged, a series of sonic blasts and noises created by an interesting cross-section of instrumentation including cornet, flugelhorn, pipa, erhu, trombone, drums, bass and tuba. As you might imagine, this can be a fascinating cacophony. But it's also surprising in the way it eventually irons itself out and starts a cohesive narrative. Hwang's tale of roadkill is a starting point--the sudden and shocking image of that deer triggers something deeper in his soul and reminds him of his mother's "harrowing experiences in China during World War II." Hwang explains the connection like this: "Through Blood the violence of deeply held memories are not relived but transposed into our sound."

This is a heady idea, yes, but once we pass through the angry free jazz of "Breath Within the Bomb," the 12-minute opener, Hwang combines a classic jazz sound, equal parts free and be-bop, with the Chinese instrumentation. Here he shows that connection between the two worlds, the carcass of the present and the horrors of the past, all happening across vast chasms of time and space. These middle passages are taut and musical--the liner notes suggest a cinematic approach that can be easily digested by the listener.

Despite your reservations about exploring yet another free jazz nightmare, you could find Blood to be utterly absorbing--especially in the way it paints such vivid pictures. Hwang's story is sophisticated and expansive, the tale of his mother surviving a bomb blast in a pharmacy is juxtaposed with his sadness for two fellow jazz musicians, Americans who fought in Vietnam where "the magnitude of pain and sorrow that they endured is unimaginable." Blood, as the title implies, is as far from lighthearted as it gets. But it is fascinating in its cerebral approach, which is wrapped in a thoroughly accessible veneer.

Michael Moss and the Accidental Orchestra's Helix

This is one potent blast of free jazz from multi-instrumentalist and composer Michael Moss, made possible by a 22-piece ensemble. The size of the ensemble is important, obviously, since this is a powerful statement that requires significant impact. Moss, originally from Wisconsin and now a 50-year veteran of the NYC free jazz scene, addresses both the cosmic and the everyday in two extended suites. The first one, "The Old One," is named for Einstein's nickname for God and attempts to serve as "an initiation into sacred ground." The second piece, "See Sharp or Be Flat," was inspired by Moss' convalescence after suffering a fracture when he tripped over a curb. He even named his new ensemble after the incident.

I've discussed free jazz before, and how I believe the secret to unraveling its mysteries is to find structure amid the chaos and build from there. I do admit that Helix is a tougher nut to crack since the overall size and the resulting sound of the orchestra are so imposing. Right out of the gate the listener is met with a wall of sound, and it takes persistence and patience to find those aforementioned structures. They do exist, however, in the form of musical touchstones such as Bach's Mass in B minor in the first suite, and James Brown ("I Feel Good"), the Beatles ("Norwegian Wood") and the Modern Jazz Quartet's Bags Groove.

It sounds lighthearted, but it's anything but. Moss refers to himself as "the farthest-out cat," which is notable since he's spent so much of his life hanging out with other cats such as McCoy Tyner, Sam Rivers, Annette Peacock and Elvin Jones. Absorbing Helix is a daunting task, especially when you consider that most mainstream jazz fans might night make it through to the end even once. You have to be predisposed to jumping into the primordial swamp where free jazz thrives and let it wash over you. If you're adventurous, you'll pop up somewhere down the river, braver and better informed.

One additional observation--I see a few familiar names among the Accidental Orchestra such as violist Stephanie Griffin, flute and tenor sax player Elliot Levin, bass clarinet player Michael Lytle and, most notably, violinist Jason Kao Hwang. I reviewed Hwang's Sing House back in June, which turned out to be another challenging free jazz release that inspired me to comment that "the point may be to find hidden treasures within the cacophony--not moments of recognition or reference, but a way to expand beliefs about what music is and isn't." The same applies here, but there is satisfaction in finding today's contemporary free jazz performers supporting each other and helping them realize their unique visions.

Jason Kao Hwang's Sing House on CD

After the last few months I've learned one surprising thing--contemporary free jazz is far from dead. I know, because I've reviewed plenty of it. It's not easy to do because it's hard to talk about chaos in measured terms. Either you get it or you don't. When I review albums like Jason Kao Hwang's Sing House, I have to put my head in a slightly different space because the vast majority of jazz listeners will hit the stop button on their CD players about fifteen seconds into the first track. Others love it, get it and are challenged by it. I'm always concerned that someone will run out and buy these albums based upon my recommendation and then think WTF. Caveat emptor.

Sing House is different than most of the free jazz out there because Hwang's violin is out there, front and center. In the context of free jazz, the violin can make unusual sounds that other more traditional jazz instruments cannot. Is that a reason to put this album on a pedestal? Of course not. But Hwang is a superb performer and he can extract unique sounds from his violin--buzzing insects, percussion, random machines.

Hwang's approach to these four lengthy tracks (they range between 11:14 and 13:55) is a headlong critique of western concepts of "theme and reiteration." These original compositions are designed, in fact, to challenge the listener in unusual ways--melodies delivered in unusual intervals, strange call-and-response patterns and an endless array of musical textures. The energy levels throughout the album are disjointed in a fascinating way, since there are moments of genuine and familiar melody. Hwang's sensibilities, however, are an evolving puzzle. There's a method to the madness, but a well-defined solution may not be the point.

As I dig deeper into this genre, I realize that the point may be to find hidden treasures within the cacophony--not moments of recognition or reference, but a way to expand beliefs about what music is and isn't. Deep focus and commitment are prerequisites, since anything less results in leaps for the CD player remote. When you do find that elusive point of reference, the trick is to stretch it out and notice how it relates to the more abstract and manic ideas. If you can do that, you can't count yourself among the few.

I have to admit that I'm still working on it. One day I may work it out in my mind, or I might just go back to my Dean Martin, Julie London and Harry Belafonte albums.