RAVISH MOMIN TARANA TRIO

Climbing the Banyan Tree
Clean Feed CF 030 CD

Five years into the 21st century, it’s becoming increasingly apparent that the old definitions of jazz and improvised music are relaxing. Besides the many artists in other countries who are adding their own cultural references to the sounds, there are players such as the members of the Tarana trio, children or grandchildren of recent immigrants, who mingle their own cultural references with the African-American basis of jazz.

Take the band’s name for instance. Not a misspelling of the capital of Albania (Tirana) or the local mispronunciation of the name of the largest city in Canada (Toronto), tarana is actually an Indian vocal style based upon the use of meaningless syllables in a very fast rendition. Although band leader, percussionist Ravish Momin, exhibits the style only once, on “String Drum Tarana” – albeit briefly at that – it’s an indication of his roots and world view.

Someone who has garnered acclaim for his drumming with the bands of saxophonists Kalaparush Maurice McIntyre and Sabir Mateen, Momin, who attended Carnegie Mellon University, studied drum set with Andrew Cyrille, Bob Moses and other jazzers as well as ethnic percussion with teachers who were disciples of Zakir Hussain, and Pandit Taranth Rao. His associates have just as varied backgrounds. Shanir Ezra Blumenkranz, who plays bass and oud, studied music in Israel as well as the United States and has played with Mateen and recorded with New York multi-instrumentalist Daniel Carter. Veteran of this band, violinist Jason Kao Hwang has been involved with cross-cultural melding for decades. He was part of the improv Far East Side Band whose members played traditional Asian instruments. At the same time he’s long been immersed in Free Jazz having been part of groups led by bassist William Parker and tenor saxophonist Ivo Perelman

Each influence modifies Hwang’s contributions here. At points, for example, he spins out taut, ululating lines that could come from a Chinese erhu, at others takes on the timbres of a three-string kamantche or Iranian fiddle. Elsewhere his glissandi on violin can be as swingingly sweet as Stéphane Grappelli’s or as sweepingly expansive – with triple stopping -- as Billy Bang’s.

A four square bassist whose thumping walking helps define the rhythm of these nine tracks, Blumenkranz’s accompaniment can be as focused and unyielding as Jimmy Garrison’s with the Coltrane Quartet or be filled with atonal splintered cadences when he solos. Adapting finger picking, claw-hammer downstrokes and slurred fingering to five-string oud techniques, his expression is traditional at times, but just as likely to be Eurasian or pure American jazz elsewhere. With Hwang’s stinging playing often harsh and echoing, there are times when ascribing certain tones to one stringed instrument is difficult. It could be the sound of a string band playing on the Mongolian plain.

Momin adds to the amiable mystification on “String Drum Tarana” when his tarana vocalization and Indian clave pattern is succeeded by what sounds like lute strums which join with scraping squeaks from percussion.

In contrast, a tune such as “Gathering Song” finds him switching from tabla-like polyrhythms at the beginning to clave-focused Latinesque beat with hands and sticks later on. Hwang’s sweet elaboration of the melody arises with erhu timbres, builds up to willowing tones and triple stopping. Climaxing in a combination of descending and ascending texture intensification from all three, the composition maintains the convention of Western jazz as Hwang reprises the head for the finale.

As pitches and tempos vary here, the percussionist’s trick bag includes supple, hand beats from double-headed drums, amplified with rattles, so that Momin could be playing zarb or dumbek. His polyrhythms can be as intensive and percussive as Elvin Jones’ with Trane, or he can produce paradiddles as unyielding as anything in marital music, but used to make a point.

Need more convincing? “Peace for Kabul”, the sentiments of which could probably be extended to other spots in the Middle East, follows the theme-elaboration-theme Western convention, yet in-between that oud and hand drums seems to elaborate a traditional Arab line, except for the points where there’s an undercurrent of Eastern European Jewish music apparent.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Dai Genyo 2. Weeping Statue 3. Instance of Memory 4. Peace for Kabul 5. Gyarah 6. Song at Dusk 7. String Drum Tarana 8. Gathering Song 9. Parting with a View

Personnel: Jason Kao Hwang (violin); Shanir Ezra Blumenkranz (bass and oud); Ravish Momin (drums, percussion and voice)

July 24, 2005

KALAPARUSH AND THE LIGHT

The Moment
Entropy Stereo ESR012

Look out everyone, a new tuba monster is on the loose.

On the evidence of this CD, recorded almost two years ago, New York-based Jesse Dulman exhibits the chops and imagination of a steadily maturing musician -- he was studying composition at LaGuardia High School of Music & Arts and the Performing Arts as recently as 1999. Not only does he alternately function as part of the front line or take the bass’s role in the traditional rhythm section, but he even contributes a slick, skipping composition to the CD.

Furthermore, although his plangent inventiveness sometimes overshadows the contributions of the other trio members of The Light, his conception fits hand-in-glove with what the other two players are trying to create.

Chief attraction, and leader of the date, is the underrecorded Kalaparush Maurice McIntyre (born 1936), a longtime member of Chicago’s Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, who now lives in Brooklyn. McIntyre was a featured player on both reedist Roscoe Mitchell’s and pianist Muhal Richard Abrams’ debut recordings in the late 1960s. Despite working as a leader and recording since that time, he first met Dulman, when the youngster was playing solo tuba in the New York subway, a musical money-making opportunity that McIntyre sometimes takes advantage of as well. Dulman has since played with the likes of AACM composer Henry Threadgill and Dutch trombonist Wolter Wierbos. Percussionist in this date is Ravish Momin, whose experience encompasses wok with pianist Dan DeChellis and saxophonist Sabir Mateen

Interestingly enough it’s the sophisticated Threadgill who is honored on the first piece, recorded live in Detroit that day, although Kalaparush is a much earthier player than H.T., relying as he often does on high-pitched screams and glottal growls. Keeping the beat the way early New Orleans players like Wellman Braud would have before they switched from tuba to string bass, Dulman keeps up constant walking reverberations. Meanwhile Momin is ringing different patterns from his kit as if he was playing hand drums in a South Asian or Latin band. Finally the two horns blend melodically to take the piece out.

Inspiration for McIntyre as well as thousands of other saxophonists, “Big John Coltrane Indian Man” is another obvious homage. Although at one point the saxist begins to spew out cadenzas reminiscent of late-period Trane, the tenorist soon pulls himself up short. And it’s this hesitancy that may be responsible for his low profile. Meanwhile Dulman’s rhythmic oom pah pahs move from accompaniment to soloing as he snorts out dissonant overblown lines, even hitting his unwieldy axe’s upper registers. Polyrhythm rearranges itself into unison work, with McIntyre, despite his avant split tones, seemingly holding back and letting the tubaist’s rugged toots take the tune further along. Although his execution could be smoother, Dulman takes full advantage of his horn’s lowest notes and plays it like a tuba, not a bass bugle.

As a matter of fact the only time he seems to be out of his element is on “Dream Of …”, a semi-ballad. You’re suddenly conscious of his youth, since he seems to lack the experience to create something quiet and romantic. Kalaparush resorts to hand clapping to encourage a quicker tempo, but the entire piece seems to meanders more than it moves.

Dulman’s own “Irene Calypso”, is more satisfying, as the tubaist’s flexibility suggests New Orleans Second Line as well as Caribbean sounds. First he provides the thematic vamp as the saxist’s lines slip and slide around his reverberating beat. Then Dulman comes up with variations on the theme as McIntyre creates a polyphonic counterpoint to it, each player subtly varying the melody. However Momin, who at one point turns the beat around, is a little too busy for the proceedings and it takes a rhino-like sibilant blasts from Dulman to get the overly busy drummer on track.

An instructive clue to The Light’s conundrum appears on Kalaparush spiritual “I Don’t Have An Answer, Unless It’s God”. With Momin using metal brushes on the underside of his snares and toms plus hand drumming for a nearly beat-less rhythm, and the tubaist producing a languorous expressive tone with plunger suggestions, it’s up to the tenorman to keep things moving. Although harmonically sound with a timbre as much in alto as tenor range, his output lags as the tune unrolls and he’s soon repeatedly sounding the same pattern. Dulman’s glossy legato tone tries to add a little excitement, but aggregate low energy causes the piece to fade away.

Valuable historically as it adds another disc to Kalaparush’s slim discography, THE MOMENT is still most convincing when it showcases Dulman’s burgeoning skills. Hopefully dynamism from him and the drummer will shore up the saxophonist to more assertive performances.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Hangin’ By a Threadgill 2. Antoinette 3. Big John Coltrane Indian Man 4. I Don’t Have An Answer, Unless It’s God 5. Mama Jaaae 6. Irene Calypso 7. Dream Of …

Personnel: Kalaparush Maurice McIntyre (tenor saxophone); Jesse Dulman (tuba.); Ravish Momin (percussion)

September 29, 2003