Troy Roberts' Nu-Jive Perspective

Fresh on the heel's of yesterday's Fusiolicious, Oytun Ersan's epic "big band" fusion release, we have sax player Troy Roberts' meaty new quintet sounding nearly as big and just as exciting. Roberts has gathered this "configuration of five best friends around the world" for the third time to create a big and focused sound, a melding of funk, soul and jazz that is just as unbridled as Ersan's release, but unbelievably consistent in its dedication to a supreme groove. This is more jazz than fusion, yet Nu-Jive is very electric in its approach. With Tim Jago's electric guitar, Silvano Monasterios' funky electric piano work and Eric England's slap-happy electric bass, the original compositions dig out more from rock and funk traditions. Only drummer Dave Chiverton, with his thundering rolls and challenging time signatures, brings an element of fusion jazz to the mix. Oh, and Roberts' sax is unusually full and melodic and again introduces more mainstream jazz ideas to the forefront. But this quintet, quite frankly, rocks hard.

This isn't close to jazz/rock, if that's what you're thinking. It's just that Roberts and his crew have such a punchy approach to the music. I've already used the adjectives meaty and full, quite intentionally, because this music is very forward. The best way I can describe it is "this is jazz meant to be played loud." I did play it loud every time I slipped the CD into my digital player, and I think I pissed off the neighbors. I couldn't possibly take the same approach to Kind of Blue or Way Out West--that would be absurd since that type of jazz has its own natural level. But remember the adjective electric? That's the key.

I also mentioned that the quintet consists of best friends from around the world. Roberts is actually from Australia, but he's been living and playing in New York City for some time. I've mentioned the unique relationship NYC has with its sax players, and you hear the same relationship at work here. Roberts' saxophone has that big city voice in play, one that's meant to bounce between the tall buildings and echo through the alleys. It has that urbane feel, that knowing-ness and distinctive edge. His sax is out front most of the way, carrying most of the melodies, and he has a smooth yet firm way of gliding through the notes that walks the edge between those melodies and improvisation.

This quintet, however, works as a singular machine in the way it builds momentum--even in the quieter passages. (Yes, there are a few of those, but they maintain their own level of rambunctiousness.) Individuals do step out according to jazz traditions, but at the same time they're crossing those familiar boundaries. Jago's guitar is the most obvious nomad--some of his solos are very rock-like, even Santana-esque. That's one of the joys of this album, however. As I've mentioned, there's incredible focus here, but the car is being driven really fast and there's quite a few things you'll see out the window if you're paying attention.

Oytun Ersan's Fusiolicious

I think I can sum this album up with a single genre label: big band fusion jazz. From there you can probably get a fairly clear idea of what the jazz bassist Oytun Ersan's new album is all about. Of course that's selling it short. First of all, there's the drummer. Have you ever heard of Dave Weckl? If you know Dave, your ears just pricked up. I have a good friend, a guy I've known for at least twenty years, and he's a rock drummer. He's not famous, but he's good, and he's played with a lot of famous guys--he once even auditioned for Guns 'N' Roses. He once spent a few thousand dollars on a single crash cymbal, so if he's not good he's at least serious. Anyway, I once asked him who his favorite drummer was, and he replied "Dave Weckl." From the look on my face he knew I had never heard the name, So he proceeded to lecture me on the greatness of Weckl, and how my friend had taken several courses taught by Weckl. When I asked him what was so special about the guy, he muttered something about mind-bending time signatures, but eventually he collapsed into a steaming pile of protoplasm trying to put this guy's skills into mere words.

So there's that. Oytun Ersan's new album, Fusilicious, has to be pretty amazing if Dave Weckl's on it, right? Well, for the first couple of listens I was more impressed by Ersan's funky bass lines than Weckl's stunning beats. I'm not dissing Weckl, but this is Ersan's album, so he's free to shine as brightly as he can. (After a couple more listens, I realized it was Wetzl and I started paying more attention to what he was doing.) Suffice it to say that this rhythm section is insane, just flying through these jams at the speed of sound. This is the kind of fusion jazz that never takes a breath, it just goes and goes. It's very intense, but in a fun way.

But here's another thing. I said this was big band jazz fusion, which means there's a lot more performers on stage than just Oytun and Dave. Ersan, who hails from the Turkish side of Cyprus, wanted to gather only fusion "giants" for his second album. We're talking people like sax player Eric Marienthal, keyboardists Gerry Etkins and Gary Husband, and a multitude of guitarists including Dean Brown, Mike Miller, Brett Garsed and Okan Ersan. Throw in a horn section that includes trombonist Gokay Goksen and trumpeter Utku Akyol, and you're all set. Just for a little more texture, Oytan includes a couple of vocalists (Simge Akdogu and Aytunc Akdogu), and even includes a soulful violinist named Karen Briggs. That's a lot of people on stage, playing as hard and as fast as they can. To say Fusiolicious is energetic is like saying the Black Canyon of the Gunnison is a fairly dark and deep hole.

With all of this talent on board, I still tend to gravitate toward those aforementioned two in the rhythm section. Ersan is a wild and wonderful leader with his bass--you know his arrangements are focusing on those driving pulses that have settled deep into the foundation of the music. He is fast as can be. Weckl is a true soulmate, and this release could have been almost as thrilling with just the two of them. But if you haven't heard Weckl in a less academic setting, showing off the importance of percussion fundamentals, this is your chance to hear him cut loose. While there's plenty to love about Fusiolicious, Weckl is just god-like behind the kit. Treat yourself.

Sound of the Hunter's The Shadow The Light

From the first few seconds of Sound of the Hunter's new EP, you might get the idea that you're in for some heavy-dose-of-trauma tuneage--especially since most of the press defines this Seattle group as part of the daunting genre known as sadcore. You do get those big, thundering drone rhythms, with singer Natalie Bayne sounding a lot like Siouxie Sue, and it all sounds like a distant murmur of the past when you and your friends used to dress up in black and ventured out into the night. "What You Deserve," the first song on The Shadow The Light, definitely pumps up the Goth in a way that's far from off-putting since it seems to ignore much of what made the first wave of Goth so elusive--a truly muddy sound. I have some old SATB albums around here somewhere and I still like to listen to them once in a while, but I always tell myself that I would've been a much bigger fan if they just cleaned it up in the studio a bit. I understood the minimalism of the time, but damn.

"What You Deserve" is so fun, despite the somber mood, because it does sound so clean and appropriately cavernous. But just when you think you have a handle on this music, the band (which includes Rebecca Young on bass and Matt Badger on drums) has a few more tricks up their collective sleeves. While Bayne's rich and sad yet lovely voice seems intent on talking about the number one topic on the sadcore discussion groups--loneliness and isolation--the trio shifts plenty of gears during the brief duration of these seven songs. "Sirens," the second song, plows ahead in a majorly minor key, but Bayne's guitar work, rich with reverb and decay, is far more melodic and lively. The first time I listened to this song, I decided I liked this band a lot no matter what came after.

What does come after is intriguing, because it's obvious that the band won't be defined by that powerful drone approach on the first track. As the songs grow lighter and less woeful, Bayne's voice morphs from Siouxsie Sioux into Natalie Merchant, with that unusual throatiness and slight sense of emotional attachment. That slow shift over the course of the album might reflect a certain theme, that sense of a light at the end of the subway tunnel.

Sound of the Hunter, therefore, is an interesting study. EPs like this tend to be a calling card, a way of saying here we are, and this is what we're about. That sentiment is negotiable, of course, and the early output from some of our finest bands suggest a flexibility in exchange for success. What this EP suggests, however, is that Sound of the Hunter could go off in any direction and do it well. If they want to be a 21st century version of Siouxsie and the Banshees, they could, and they wouldn't have that much competition. It might be a welcomed thing since it feels like such a long time since anyone has made that kind of music sound this good. But with Bayne's distinctive vocals and the trio's exciting sound, it will be interesting to see which road they choose in the future.

Alain Mallet's Mutt Slang

Alain Mallet's one of those musicians who has been around and worked with the best. This French pianist and composer has played with the likes of Madeleine Peyroux, Phil Woods and Paul Simon, and his compositions have been recorded by everyone from Gary Burton to Paquito D'Rivera. His music constantly reflects many approaches at once and seems to beg that cliched question--what are your musical influences, Mr. Musician? That, of course, is a question that should no longer be asked by anyone who truly loves jazz--you should just know by listening unless the artist is eager to tell you. That's the only time the answer matters. In this case, Mallet grew up listening to Erroll Garner and Oscar Peterson. His lush style on the keyboards tends to pay tribute to the former, but in Mutt Slang, his first solo album, he breathes it all in, his lifetime of experiences and emotions, and casts them out of his body in a generous 2-CD set of swirling and complex jazz.

Contemporary jazz tends to either celebrate the past or work toward something new, and Mallet seems to be doing both at once. His compositions have that relaxed European flair to them, mixed in with subtle Brazilian beats, a mood that's far more genuine friendly than fey. There's a lighthearted cinematic feel to the tunes here, a romantic caper or sophisticated comedy about international characters who speak several languages and always know the wittiest responses to any situation. It's quite a thrill to hear these cultural markers come at you out of the ether, sometimes two or more at a time, and for a moment or two your brain tries to sort it all out as if this music is a beautiful puzzle that doesn't have to be solved that quickly. This is my favorite type of music, full of new ideas that still allow you to clear your mind and appreciate the sound one layer at a time.

While Mallet's creativity and almost Zen-like approach to composition is the glue that holds this expansive work together, his large and varied ensemble helps to create that spirit of universal appeal. 14 musicians play more than 25 different instruments, which gives the music an effortless feel--effortless in the sense that any mood or rhythm can be achieved since the resources at hand are so plentiful. The Latin rhythms stick in my memory, of course, but there are also touches of eastern and African influences such as Layth Sidiq's souful violin solo in "Adama" or percussion instruments such as the xekere, pandeiro and congas. We also get a variety of beautiful vocalists such as Veronica Morscher, Song Ji Yeon, Tali Rubinstein and Mallet himself who vividly bring their own lives and experiences into the songs they sing.

Those constant international flavors and they way they mix is what makes Mutt Slang continually surprising. Mallet explains it as an "idea that so much of our music is the product of a unique mix of seemingly unconnected influences, when, in reality, they emanate from that untethered spiritual expanse that we all tap into." I generally agree with that old saying about music, writing and architectural dancing, but Mallet really hits the nail on the head with this single sentence. This is what you think the entire time you're listening. Mallet's music is consistent in its energy and flow, but it's almost startling in its role as a travelogue. Oh, the places you'll go when you hear this.

Miguel Zenon's Yo Soy La Tradicion

During the late '80s and early '90s, I made a concerted effort to expand my music horizons by exploring so-called modern music. By "modern," I'm talking about the contemporary classical music of the time, the stuff that thrived on the edges of the mainstream. While I gravitated toward the works of Philip Glass, Michael Nyman, Kevin Volans and Arvo Part, among others, I found a great source for exposing myself to new and interesting musical ideas through the Kronos Quartet. I purchased every album they released and always found at least one piece that stretched my conceptions about what music could be, and how I could educate myself about all of the different genres and composers I would have otherwise missed. I owe a lot to that particular ensemble--especially when it still featured the lovely Joan Jeanrenaud on cello. (Some of my music loving friends at the time had a huge crush on her, as did I.)

I'm reminded of those days when I listen to Miguel Zenon's new concert-length piece for saxophone and string quartet, Yo Soy la Tradicion. While Zenon's compositions rely upon his knowledge of Puerto Rican folk songs and jazz, the addition of the string quartet--here represented by the Spektral Quartet--touches on that same sense of esoterica, that feeling like we've wandered into a land where no one has walked before. Concentrate solely on Zenon's saxophone and you'll hear an emotive exploration of jazz figures, and a tone that bridges blues and the avant-garde. The music blossoms into a new realm, with the neatly calibrated counterpoint from the quartet propelling this journey more deeply into the heart of contemporary classical music, of gentle dissonance and exacting imagery that I haven't heard in a good 25 years.

Zenon established these themes earlier when he recorded Jibaro in 2005. There he rounded up some of the older folk music of his native land with a goal to "identify the elements that make each tradition unique." Yo Soy la Tradicion launches energetically from there, using the string quartet as a way to integrate his vision with something that leaps over those genre boundaries. He spent much time studying the western canon of string quartet music and found a way to meld the two into a lush and complex sound that ebbs and flows while digging deep into the past. The Spektral Quartet, which includes violinists Clara Lyon and Maeve Feinberg, violist Doyle Armbrust and cellist Russell Rolen, has a seemingly intuitive way of appraoching the score. That's because Zenon consulted with them extensively while composing the piece and therefore captured their individual strengths as musicians.

In a vein that employs contemporary in the best possible of ways, Yo Soy la Tradicion has a slightly ethereal feel, enhanced by the excellent production values. There is a seriousness to the music, a whole that seems guided by the life experiences of each member of the ensemble. Zenon's saxophone isn't necessary dominant--it is one well-defined part among his equals. Each member is able to shine at different moments throughout, which gives this performance uncommon depth. This music is challenging in the way it takes familiar elements from folklore and wraps them in a sound that's both lovely and thought-provoking. There's a delicacy here that makes me feel as I've heard something that's like nothing else out there, and that's always a source of supreme pleasure.

Bobby Sanabria and the Multiverse Big Band's West Side Story Reimagined

I'm not a big fan of musicals, on stage or on screen, but I do love West Side Story. Well, I love half of it, the musical half. I start rolling my eyes whenever I see the Jets and the Sharks prancing around with their switchblades, but Leonard Bernstein's songs and original score are, in my opinion, the apex of the genre. The music is just so expressive, so dynamic and so memorable. Every once in a while, a random section of "Maria" or "Somewhere" or "America" just pops into my head and stays there all day. In fact, one of my favorite classical CDs is Bernstein: Arias and Barcarolles performed by Michael Tilson Thomas and the London Symphony Orchestra--it contains an incredibly exciting interpretation of WSS's score via "A Quiet Place Suite" and "West Side Story Symphonic Dances." (On a side note, my mom went to high school with George Chakiris, so there's that.)

The idea of West Side Story being "reimagined" as a suite for big band jazz, especially one that is so focused on various Latin jazz traditions, isn't quite as radical as the liner notes suggest. But it does feel absolutely welcome. Drummer Bobby Sanabria and his Multiverse Big Band have release many critically acclaimed recordings over the last few years, and they specialize in presenting all of the distinct Latin variations on jazz, so much so that this 2-CD set contains a booklet that explains the different rhythms of each country. This performance, recorded live at Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola in NYC, pumps up the Latin aspects of the already Latin-centric score from Bernstein and adds additional layers of those aforementioned rhythms. If you're a fan of either Latin jazz or West Side Story, this album is a feast of those flavors.

It's probably next to impossible to make this music sound sluggish or lethargic, so it's no surprise that Bobby's band is incredibly exciting. I also believe this has something to do with his role as drummer--I find that band leaders who are drummers are incredibly sensitive to maintaining high levels of energy and dynamics in their arrangements. It's also worth stating that Sanabria is a hell of a drummer and so supportive of his bandmates. With music that swings this hard, you'd expect him to be a wild man behind his kit. But he's also a confident ringleader who keeps every note tight and focused, and that's rare in a genre that prides itself on its loose and happy groove. Big bands need to be precise, Latin jazz needs to be passionate, and Sanabria finds the perfect mix of both.

There are two more reasons to grab this release. First, it's a 2-CD set with nearly one hour and twenty minutes of pure excitement, and it's only $21.99. I even saw it for less on Amazon. The second reason is that a part of the proceeds will be donated to the Jazz Foundation of America's Puerto Rico Relief Fund. After listening to this several times, I can honestly say that purchasing this CD is a no-brainer. You can buy it in a number of places, but check out Bobby Sanabria's website as well as that of Jazzhead (the record label).

Kjell Tore Innervik's Utopias

How do you feel about percussion recordings? I love them, personally. I've heard people say that percussion recordings are somehow incomplete since they are missing the biggest component of music--melody. I find plenty of melody in most percussion recordings because, of course, there are specific tones resulting from the striking of an object. While rhythm is the most salient character in these types of recordings, those complex structures of melody often present themselves when you allow yourself to float along with the so-called beats. I've mentioned this before, but many audiophiles will tell you that the female voice will provide you with everything you need to know about a sound system's fidelity. My friend Bob Clarke says it's the grand piano, and I don't disagree. But for me, I can find everything I need to know by listening to a simple drum kit, everything from the visceral impact of the bass drum to the highest shimmer of the cymbals and, most importantly, the way the sound of those impacts react to the recording space.

I'm so pleased that 2L Recordings has released Utopias, "Radical Interpretations of Iconic Works for Percussion." As I've repeated ad nauseum, 2L is at the vanguard of sound reproduction in today's world, combining both the latest technology and a keen instinct for providing the finest recording environments. The idea of a pure percussion recording from Morten Lindberg and his associates is almost a cause for celebration--from the moment I slipped this disc into my player I knew I was going to have a transcendent musical experience.

Utopias is Kjell Tore Innervik's interpretation of two percussion pieces--two separate variations of Iannis Xenakis' Psappha and one of Morton Feldman's The King of Denmark. Innervik performs these pieces solo, but he is literally all over the place--his assortment of drums, bells and other objects is varied and exciting. At the same time, photos of the recording sessions show the placement of these instruments and how Innervik is tightly surrounded by them. Since the recording was made in one of those big Norwegian churches for which 2L is famous, the resulting sound is huge, in stages. The proximity of the instruments to Innervik's body reduces the amount of movement for him, sounds that would be picked up. Normally that would be a desirable quality for me, the interaction between musician and instrument that I find so vital to realistic recordings, but in this case it would distract from the real thrill here, which is how those struck objects reverberate in the church. You want decay? Utopia is a virtual primer of the nature of decaying sound. So what you're getting here is a tight formation of the source of these sounds, and a seemingly infinite pattern of ripples from that source. It's mesmerizing.

If it feels like I'm focusing purely on sound and not the content, that's unfortunate. Innervik's approach to these pieces is unique and the extensive liner notes dig deep into his intentions. There's a fascinating explanation of why Innervik chose to record two different versions of Psappha--he wanted to create two separate perspectives, or "windows," into the piece by performing it twice at different points in time. So what we're getting isn't two distinctive variations of the piece as much as two very human performances and the natural variations that would normally occur. If you're listening to Utopias as background music, which you shouldn't, you may wonder why the two performances are offered back to back. Focus deeply on the piece, meditate, and you'll uncover the reasons. Hint: it has something to do with being human.

While the overall effect of these performances reminds me of gamelan music with its intricate and often delicate textures, the music is exhilarating in its simplicity. This is, after all, one man creating an ocean of sound from a fixed point in space. The simple purity of tones here, of the essence of sound, is completely transformative. I have one of those Vietnamese singing bowls next to my bed, and its expansive tone has a powerful effect on my mood and well-being. Utopias has that same sense of cathartic power, of reaching deep into your mind and pulling out the most wonderful ideas and feelings. Highly recommended, and one of my favorite of all the amazing recordings from 2L.