March 8, 2018
NoBusiness NBLP 110
Solo (Victoriaville 2017)
Victo cd 130
Lieber Heiland, laß uns sterben
SOFA Music 60
I Try To Remember Where I Come From
Clean Feed CF 430 CD
Something In The Air: One is the Loneliest Number – Or is it?
by Ken Waxman
Although there were isolated experiments dating back to the 1940s, the watershed recording of saxophone solos was Anthony Braxton’s double LP For Alto in 1970. Comparably innovative sets by Evan Parker and Steve Lacy followed soon afterwards. Since then many exploratory reedists have added their own challenging chapters to the solo saxophone literature.
One of them is Braxton himself, whose most recently recorded alto foray is Solo (Victoriaville 2017) (Victo cd 130), nine tracks from a concert at last year’s Festival International de Musique Actuelle de Victoriaville in Quebec. Nearly a half-century after For Alto, Braxton is still showcasing novel approaches. Interestingly enough, while all the tunes, except for the standard “Body and Soul” have abstract titles, at this juncture hints of melodies and inferences to tunes as unanticipated as “Everything Happens to Me”, “It’s Now or Never”, “Strike Up the Band” and even “The Anniversary Song” insinuate themselves into the improvisations. This is no game of Name that Tune however, for Braxton’s talent are communicated through the technical alchemy obvious on each track. For instance, “No 394c” elongates the narrative line until it’s suddenly shaped into a balladic melody. The same sort of tunefulness informs the introductory “No 392a”, as shaky cadenzas turn moderato when he emphasizes the chalumeau register. At the same time no one would mistake Braxton for a member of Guy Lombardo’s sax section. Sophisticated funk works its way into the circular breathing and overblowing on “No 392c”, while its tremolo exposition showcases pauses and timbre extensions. More characteristically No 394a consists of near-stifled reed screams, tongue slapping and pressurized action, culminating in terminal growling. Plus “No 392b” evolves with “Flight of the Bumblebee”-like buzzing swiftness, with multiple slurred and staccato notes tried on for size. As the balladic inferences slide by in nanoseconds, the improvisation’s finale is packed with innumerable pitches and tones. Yet, when Braxton tackles “Body and Soul” in tremolo double time, the distinctive theme is present along with a traditional final recapping of the head.
Three decades Braxton’s junior, Chicago’s Dave Rempis follows an analogous but distinct route on Lattice (Aerophonic 015) by bookending his improvisations with two jazz standards. Although Rempis plays alto, tenor and baritone saxophone, his strategy is similar on each horn – using its distinctive properties to better describe the improvisations. Billy Stayhorn’s “A Flower is a Lonesome Thing” and Eric Dolphy’s “Serene” are treated no differently than the abstract improvisations. Playing baritone on the former, he digs deep into its body tube to shake textures that accelerate from snorts to screams before creating variations on a mellow version of the theme. Dolphy’s avant-garde credentials are emphasized with stratospheric whistles, duck quacks and chicken cackles in the middle of Serene following a near inchoate theme elaboration by the alto saxophone. However the piece climaxes with rhapsodic mellowness and the head recapped. The most impressive instance of Rempis’ solo musicianship is on “If You Get Lost in Santa Paula”, where he inveigles a collection of tongue slaps and pops into captivating textures that are almost danceable and certainly rhythmic, then maintains this mouth percussion until the end. A track like “Horse Court” demonstrates how he can output enough bites and beeps for two saxophonists in counterpoint while using spatial dimensions to bounce back the sound; meanwhile “Loose Snus” proves that split tones and spetrofluctuation can be vibrated into satisfying story telling.
Swedish alto saxophonist Martin Küchen is also involved with spatial properties since Lieber Heiland, laß uns sterben (SOFA Music 60) was recorded in the crypt of the cathedral in Lund, Sweden and utilizes field recording, an iPod, speakers and electronics plus overdubbed saxophone lines. An idea of how this works is “Ruf Zu Mer Bezprizorni…”, where the distant sounds of piano students rehearsing Baroque classics cause Küchen to retaliate with mocking squeaks and puffs, plus percussive slaps that emphasizes the saxophone’s metal body. “Music to Silence Music” in contrast makes the ancient crypt walls another instrument as they vibrate and echo back initial saxophone lowing and air-piercing extensions, the equivalent of overdubbed reed parts. Real overdubbing to a multiple of six is used on “Amen Choir”, but when coupled with low-pitched electronic drones and the outdoor noises leaking into the space, the results not only almost replicate scrubs and sawing on double bass strings, but also suggest a near visual picture of reed breaths floating across the sound field. Far off pealing church bells make the perfect coda. Küchen’s solo design has non-Western precedents as well, as on “Purcell in the Eternal Seir Yassin”. Trace of the 17th Century composer’s music drifts though an open window via a bel canto soprano’s vocalizing, but more prominent are Indian influences, with an electronic tambura providing the proper sub-continental drone, while voluminous reed tones side-slip into various keys and pitches.
This sort of solo contemplation is actually connected to an instrument’s technical versatility not nationalism though. It’s the same way that Lithuanian soprano and tenor saxophonist Liudas Mockŭnas improvisations on Hydro (NoBusiness NBLP 110) lack any overt Baltic musical inferences. But considering the titles of the seven-part “Hydration Suite”, three-part “Rehydration Suite”, and the final extended “Dehydration”, his relationship with the sea is highlighted. Conspicuously by utilizing “water-prepared” (sic) saxophones, the Hydration Suite includes liquid-related sounds, while denser echoes from vibrations of potential coastal and submerged objects share space with the saxophonist’s moist hiccups and puffs, plus sea bird-like wails that expand or recede in degrees of pitch and volume. Oddly enough, “Hydration Suite part 5”, the most abstract outpouring, with dot-dash, kazoo-like treble textures, seemingly only using the sax mouthpiece, precedes the suite’s final sequences which are delicate and almost vibrato-less. Melodic and expressive the gentle curlicues could come from a so-called “legit” player. Wolf-like snarls and staccato peeping characterize the “Rehydration Suite”, but the track also emphasizes Mockŭnas’ reed fluidity, encompassing circular breathing, emphatic screams and gut-propelled emotional sweeps. A compendium of the preceding techniques, the multi-tempo “Dehydration”, showcases the saxophone’s farthest reaches, including pressurized vibratos, whinnying cries falling up instead of down, and gusts that appear to be blowing any remaining water from his instrument, with pure air and key jiggling.
An individual adaptation of the equipment used by the likes of Küchen and Mockŭnas is offered by New York’s Jonah Parzen-Johnson who plays baritone saxophone tones alongside an analog synthesizer’s textures. I Try To Remember Where I Come From (Clean Feed CF 430 CD) contains seven instances where his overblowing and split tones are mated as catch can with electronics. Avoiding loops, overdubbing or sampling, gutty textures either arise from mouth-propelled blowing or live processing. Since his preference is for simple, song-based material, the result is unlike any other CD here. Vibrating quavering tones, Parzen-Johnson sparingly utilizes multiphonic screams or thickened vibratos, with tracks such as “Too Many Dreams” coming across as if he was a folk or country balladeer, with the synthesizer’s pulsations taking the place of a backing combo. The machine can also deflect his sax’s tones back at him, doubling his exposition, but here and elsewhere he manages to overcome the dangers of reed overpowering with skill. While the title tune sets up distinctive contrasts between unaccented puffs and burbles from the baritone and the synthesizer’s pipe-organ-like cascades, “What Do I Do with Sorry”, is the most notable track since the split-second transformations come from man as well as machine. With his output shaped as if he was playing a bagpipe’s chanter and the synthesizer responding as if it was the bagpipe’s reservoir bag, Parzen-Johnson’s improvising takes on buzzing, triple-tongued aspects while the synthesizer’s echoing pulsations suggest both Celtic airs and the beats from a club DJ. There may be as many ways to play solo saxophone as there are saxophonists and these are a few instances of how it is done.
-For The Whole Note March 2018