Takaaki's New Kid in Town Now Live at Positive Feedback

My review of Takaaki's New Kid in Town is now live at Positive Feedback. If you're a fan of the original Three Blind Mice recordings from the '70s, you'll dig this! You can read it here.

Billy Lester Trio's Italy 2016

Italy 2016 sounds like the title of a live jazz album. Pianist Billy Lester's new album isn't live, but the liner notes suggest that he's aiming for "the vibrant feel of live performances." I'd have to agree--at the end of each track I halfway expect to hear applause. The idea behind this album, however, is that Billy is joined by two esteemed jazz musicians from Italy--bassist Marcello Testa and drummer Nicola Stranieri. This trio first met in 2014 and built up such a natural rapport as a trio that they decided to record this album in Italy in...well, you know when.

Billy Lester has built up quite a cult following, which is unusual since he's recorded only seven albums in the last 20 years. He definitely has a distinct style, employing quick and adjacent keywork that rolls steadily back and forth across the board. It sounds as if he's playing with his hands and fingers closed in, fast and repetitive over the same geography. He's adventurous in the way he goes off on improvisational tangents as well--he's not afraid to veer into dissonance, but he does return quickly and precisely. He's a jazz pianist's pianist.

His Italian cohorts match his small, quick journeys with equal subtlety. Stranieri, for instance, plays softly and doesn't draw undue attention to himself but his momentum is essential to the drive of these six original tracks. (These sojourns run between seven and twelve minutes each.) Testa matches Lester with an almost fraternal sense of rhythm. It's easy to see why Lester bonded with these two gentlemen--there's a drive to this trio that seems carefully calibrated, even when the improvisations go off the map.

Sound quality is also strong--as I mentioned, the musicians were able to capture the sound of a live performance in the studio, and that's not easy to do. While the overall feel of this album is introspective, without wide sweeps of emotion or dynamics, this is the type of "interior" jazz that pulls you in and dares you to consider the placement of each note. Perhaps this synergy will convince these three men to come to the US and play for American audiences--people who know there jazz and are willing to pay close attention.

Carl Filipiak and the Jimi Jazz Band's What Now

I'm pretty sure this isn't jazz. It's not even jazz-rock, whatever that might be. This is rock that's pretty straightforward, thinking man's rock, the kind of stuff Bill Frisell puts out once in a while. It might be informed by jazz in the way intricate themes are explored, but tell me this--when you listen to jazz, any jazz, are you compelled to crank up the volume and rock out? I didn't think so.

Carl Filipiak has been referred to as "a dynamic jazz guitarist," part of a genre referred to as "new fusion," but when you listen to his new album, What Now, you think of one thing: rock and roll. With his Jimi Jazz Band consisting of drummer Frank Young, sax player Paul Hannah and bassist Matt Everhart, Filipiak creates the kind of rock and roll you might hear from very seasoned session musicians. (I have to admit that Young reminds me of Jim Keltner in a big way, solid and precise without being flashy.) These guys sound like they're the best in the business, and they all got together to play one day just for fun. They're not as cohesive and connected to a singular vision as most rock bands, but they are skilled. They're professional. They play their asses off.

Another distinction is that these eight tracks--six originals, "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Sunny"--are instrumentals, and I think that omission might tempt the average listener to say yeah, I guess it might be jazz. A typical rock singer in the Lou Gramm-Paul Rodgers mold would completely push this into rock territory. There are other details that support the jazz label--there are a couple of spots where Jimi Jazz as a whole dips momentarily into a more jazzy feel, almost as a tease. There's even a spot or two where the band feels like they're channeling Santana and wandering into the world of Latin jazz. But for the most part, this is great rock and roll that's been recorded with care--as if they were an intimate jazz ensemble. This is a clean, clean recording.

It's so clean, in fact, that you can really turn up the volume and it still sounds great, unlike most of today's victims of the Loudness Wars and all that compression. The label, Geometric Records, may have stumbled onto something: record rock and roll as if it was jazz. Works for me.

Jeff Rupert with Veronica Swift--Let's Sail Away

Man, Veronica Swift sounds a lot like Ella Fitzgerald. I'm not saying this in a oh-she's-copying-Ella kind of way, but in a wow-at-last-someone-contemporary-knows-how-to-scat-without-making-me-wince sort of way. It's clear Ella is an influence--Swift has that same girlish innocence mated to a supreme and confident sense of swing. At just 23 years old, Swift has that ease that usually comes from years of performing. She's a little more delicate than Ella, a tiny bit more fragile, but I could listen to her all day.

Alas, Ms. Swift is just one piece of the puzzle in this excellent album from saxophone player Jeff Rupert. With a title like "Let's Sail Away," you might think this is a breezy and light "escapade" of an album, something you might hear at yacht club dinner. In fact, this album starts off sounding exactly like that, a fun and capricious gig at a fancy shindig with lots of rich people. But then a couple of things happen. First, you fall in love with Swift's voice. After that happens, Rupert's band really takes off and starts playing with fever and vision.

As a sax player, Rupert is suitably sultry. He's played with people such as Mel Torme, Maynard Ferguson and Benny Carter's Harlem Renaissance, so he has the smooth and romantic delivery thing down pat. His core band--pianist Richard Drexler, drummer Marty Morell and bassist Charlie Silva--are game for anything. They can sound as if they're playing entirely in the service of the music, even when Rupert's arrangements start to explore new possibilities. A ten minute take on Rhapsody in Blue, for instance, both condenses the original composition and allows it to wander through new ideas. Placed roughly midway through the album, this Gershwin piece becomes the cue for everyone to truly sail away into sheer inspiration.

The sound quality is, of course, the cherry on top. It's warm, expansive and completely natural. This is another case of me judging an album by its cover--I didn't expect a whole lot from this album by its somewhat pedestrian nautical theme, but repeated listening has won me over completely. If you enjoy Ella Fitzgerald, George Gershwin and a band that sounds like it can play anything you want and anyway you like it, this album is for you.

Taking the Reel-to-Reel Dip with Lyn Stanley

I've discussed the comeback of reel-to-reel as a reference analog source for some time now, both here and in my original Vinyl Anachronist column for Perfect Sound Forever. In a nutshell, reel-to-reel recordings can easily surpass the fidelity of vinyl, especially when sourced from the original master tapes--vinyl is pressed from these masters in most cases.

I've had this TEAC X-1000R reel-to-reel deck at my disposal for the last year or so, but I haven't had any quality software to use with it. This machine was restored and serviced by a local guy in Syracuse, and he included a reel of stuff he recorded from other sources. While it's fun to play that reel, the sound quality does not hint at the sonic nirvana that's routinely produced by tape sourced from the masters. The problem is that most of these excellent pre-recorded tapes retail for $250 to $750 or more...PER TITLE. Machines like this TEAC are relatively affordable--I'd sell this TEAC for $1000. That's probably the cost of two tapes.

Fortunately, singer Lyn Stanley came to the rescue! I've recently reviewed both volumes of The Moonlight Sessions--vol. 1 has reviewed here on my blog while Vol. 2 was reviewed at Positive Feedback Online. In both reviews I hinted that I'd love to hear the very rare and very pricey R2R versions of these releases, and she sent me this copy which has been making the rounds. (Lee Scoggins, a fellow scribe at Part-Time Audiophile, had it right before me.)

So I'll be listening to this on a very nice system over the next week or so and will offer my opinions! Thanks, Lyn!

Benji Kaplan's Chorando Sete Cores

Remember Van Dyke Parks' work with Joanna Newsom and Inara George about a decade ago? Parks' works for small orchestra at the time were so light-footed and whimsical, so extracted from a world that didn't exist any longer. Listening to Benji Kaplan's new album, Chorando Sete Cores (which translates to "Cries of the Seven-Colored Tanager"), I'm reminded of that same world--delicate, possibly borne from some forgotten corners of La Belle Epoque. It's the type of music you hear in old movies, outside of the classical canon so to speak yet still expressive in the way it allows specific instruments to reach their potential.

Guitarist Kaplan has written this, his fourth album, for a wind quintet with just four performers including himself. How does one do that? Well, through the use of musicians who are adept at swapping instruments during the course of the song. Anne Drummond, for instance, plays two flutes--alto and C. Remy Lebouef plays the clarinet and the impressive and memorable bass clarinet, which acts as the lone low-frequency anchor on the album. David Byrd-Marrow sticks with the French horn, and Kaplan sticks with his nylon-stringed acoustic guitar. This type of ensemble allows Kaplan's arrangements to thrive on endless counterpoints while maintaining a small, intimate feel.

In a nutshell, this is fanciful music that hasn't an unkind thought or a menacing note. The mood is positive and encouraging, which leaves the listener free to explore the relationships of the constant call-and-answer of the instruments and how they take turns telling the same story. This type of aural storytelling is so at odds with the music we hear every day. While most of the tracks are self-contained tales such as "A Joyful Stroll" (which is brisk since the walk takes place in New York) and "Leaves in the Wind" (self-explanatory), this is not an album about ideas and narratives. It's about feelings and textures and the celebration of beauty.

As you listen to all 13 tracks, you'll find a flow and a unity as well. It's unusual easy to keep track of that flow since the recording quality is so fantastic and clean. That allows you to consider every note, every trill, and how it contributes to a beautiful whole. Chorando Sete Cores may sound trivial if you're not truly committed to it, but if you take the time to hear these four (or five?) musicians have an enthralling conversation, you'll want to sit in.

The Vinyl Anachronist #119 Now Live at Perfect Sound Forever

My latest installment of my original Vinyl Anachronist column is now live at Perfect Sound Forever. #119 is about the state of vinyl cleaning in 2018 and why you shouldn't just use the Discwasher system you had back in the '70s. You can enjoy it here.