Trigger

The Fire Throws
Insubordinations Insubcd 05

Leonel Kaplan/Christof Kurzmann/Edén Carrasco

Casa Corp

Dromos 009

Two horn-based trios explore the outer edges of morphed volume control and time synthesis on these releases, testing and defining sonic limits. Essentially a cumulative record of undifferentiated expelled air, Berlin-based Trigger mixes nephritic intonation from American Chris Heenan’s contrabass clarinet with the shivering or calculated pitches of Nils Ostendorf’s trumpet plus Matthias Müller’s trombone, during eight mid-length tracks. In contrast, the Buenos Aires-based threesome on Casa Corp aims for a varied aesthetic, moving from the nearly inaudible to the practically unbearable during a single 33-minute improvisation. The players are less homogenous as well. Although trumpeter Leonel is native Argentinean, alto saxophonist Edén Carrasco is from Chile; and Christof Kurzmann who uses the live-improvising, interactive ppooll software is a transplanted Austrian.

The South Americans, who have also played at points with guitarist Tetuzi Akiyama, trumpeter Birgit Ulher and saxophonist Michel Doneda, are obsessed with patching, spinning and whistling air sourced from within their horns’ body tubes, usually without valve or key movement. The result can be guess-the-source textures or dense, blurry tones that appear to be impenetrable. At the same time some of the spatially-centred and quivering pumps and presses arise from Kurzmann’s networked Max patches. In fact when what sounds like claw-hammer string strums from a balalaika are heard between hissing modulations or thunderous reverb, the source is probably the ppooll. It’s also these times when Carrasco’s and Kaplan’s otherwise extended techniques turn to recognizable tropes, with brassy grace notes from one axe, plus reed slurs and tongue slaps from the other.

Oddly at the same time as the computer generator’s signal-processed rhythmic undercurrent or motor-driven flanges set out to shove the program into pure abstraction, Kurzmann, to signal the performance’s end, intermittently and conclusively recites agit-prop lyrics. Unusually sang to the melody of “O Tannenbaum”, Kurzmann’s off-handed sing-speech version of Jim Connell’s 1889 song “We’ll keep the Red Flag Flying”, anthem of the British and Irish labor parties, may have a different resonance in South American situations. Suggesting that “beneath its folds we’ll live and die though cowards flinch and traitors sneer” he brandishes hyper-realistic sentiments that may resonate in countries such as Chile and Argentina which have suffered under harsh dictatorships. Then again he recites the lyrics in English rather than Spanish or Portuguese.

Changing locales and continents, Trigger’s harsh spatial expansion seems strictly non-political and overwhelmingly committed to sound experimentation for its own sake. By the same token while the narrative cohesion is tighter than that expressed by Kaplan, Kurzmann and Carrasco, Ostendorf, Müller and Heenan often have to work overtime to source individual tones and prevent each track from sounding too similar to the previous or subsequent ones. Sporadically as well, at times the straightforward wave forms, oscillated slurs and strident squeals output by the players accelerate to agitated, undifferentiated sludge. More often than that, a textural shift on one or another of the musicians’ part(s) avoids that trap.

Most notable are narratives such as “Anchialine” and “Talus”. On the first, pedal-point torque from Heenan’s horn shudders with tremolo lows as Müller snorts and Ostendorf blows unaccented air through his horn. Following Heenan inflating his tone to strident timbres, he suddenly cuts off his sounds as the other two percussively smack their instruments’ metal with their palms. Earlier, “Talus” demonstrates how the trombonist, who elsewhere works with the likes of guitarist Olaf Rupp, can speedily slide from clear plunger tones to those which provide a rhythmic ostinato. Meanwhile the trumpeter whistles and chirps, as Heenan, freed from the usual arrangement of his tones on the bottom, has the freedom to output watery reed kisses and tongue stop with only a bit of irregular vibrato. In general though, the stand-out track may be “Littoral” which is anything but a literal replication of usual horn blending. Instead after the three improvisers compress textures into what appears to be a mulched, strident and concentrated drone, a wriggling, distinctive narrative eventually breaks out.

Unconventional instrument connections lead to inimitable programs. While neither trio reaches a fully satisfying conclusion, each program calls for deep listening to understand how the participants structure their responses to sonic challenges.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Fire: 1. Karst 2. Talus 3. Littoral 4. Anchialine 5. Fracture 6. Scree 7. Tufa 8. Corrasional

Personnel: Fire: Nils Ostendorf (trumpet); Matthias Müller (trombone) and Chris Heenan (contrabass clarinet)

Track Listing: Casa: 1. Casa Corp

Personnel: Casa: Leonel Kaplan (trumpet); Edén Carrasco (alto saxophone) and Christof Kurzmann (ppooll and voice)

May 18, 2013

Delius/Pellegrino/Giust/Thomas/Hennan

Three Nights in Berlin
Setola di Maiale 1330

Denley/Lauzier/Martel/Myhr/Normand

Transition de Phase

Tour de Bras TDB9005cd

Without borders is more than a slogan when it comes to free music, a sentiment proven by these exceptional improvisations. Recorded live, both of these CDs demonstrate the empathy exploratory musicians from different countries possess.

Resulting from the annual festival of experimental music held in Rimouski, Quebec, located on the south shore of the St. Lawrence River about 500 kilometres from Montreal, Transition de Phase is made up of three extended improvisations by five out-of-town visitors and local electric bassist/concert organizer Éric Normand. Participants were two Montrealers, saxophonist and clarinettist Philippe Lauzier and violist and electronic manipulator Pierre-Yves Martel, who frequently work together and are often in Europe, plus participants from farther away – Norwegian guitarist Kim Myhr and Australian reedist Jim Denley.

By happenstance Three Nights in Berlin also features an Australian – bassist Clayton Thomas – and a guitarist, Mikaele Pellegrino. Further compounding the small-world theory, Thomas, now a Berliner, seems to be in every second group in that city, but he often played with Denley down under. Also now a Berlin resident, Rome-born guitarist Mikaele Pellegrino works with other sound explorers such as drummer Michael Vorfeld, as well as Californian-in-Berlin reedist Chris Heenan, who also plays on this CD. Also present on all tracks is saxophonist/clarinettist Tobias Delius, the British-born member of Amsterdam’s ICP Orchestra, who now makes Berlin his home. The visitor in this case is experienced Pordenone, Italy-based, Swiss-born percussionist Stefano Giust, who has played with other reedists such as Carlo Actis Dato and Gianni Gebbia.

Appropriately enough the Berlin improvisations differ on each night, depending on the personnel. No matter which, however, Giust – who in the early 1990s co-founded the Setola di Maiale independent musicians’ network – and his confreres have such command of the material that each of the tunes seems to zip by. Interestingly enough as well, each of the performances can be defined as Free Jazz, as opposed to the three “Phases” on the other CD which are definitely Free Music.

“As You”, one of the trio intermezzos that divides the quartet performances, is outstandingly fascinating though, since on it Giust, Delius and Pellegrino cleave closest to Free Music with some obeisance to more mainstream sounds. Those echoes appear in the deep-dish Ben Webster-like blowing from the tenor saxophonist and a later jaunty line that could be “Flight of the Bumblebee”. Meantime the guitarist’s irregular downwards strokes are spelled by country music-like twangs and stops; while the drummer keeps up a martial snare pattern. Elsewhere during the track however, Giust exposes rattles, rim shots, pitter-patters and cymbal clatters; as Pellegrino’s squeaky guitar slides and percussive rasgueado mirror in double counterpoint Delius’ reed bites, sibilant extensions and crying guttural smears.

While the guitarist and drummer revert to rhythm section accompanist roles on the Heenan quartet tracks, the sounds are still far from the standard two-saxophone battles. Atop Giust’s raps and ruffs and Pellegrino’s speedy picking, the two saxes honk and growl staccato lines, eventually dividing the reed lines between the tenor saxophonist’s double-tongued buzz and similar drones from Hennan’s alto sax. Gravitas is more apparent when the horn men bring out their doubles: pedal-point bass clarinet snorts from Hennan and slinky, triple-tongued variations from Delius’ straight clarinet. Paced exquisitely, the bonding climax occurs as Giust’s mallet-driven pumps link Delius’ reflux flutters and Hennan’s spreading ostinato.

Thomas’ wood-rending slides and string crunches produce completely different overtones when he becomes the fourth partner. That’s because guitar, bass and drums together constitute a prototypical Jazz rhythm section. “Zoo Off”, for instance, is built on the bassist stretching his strings ever tighter, while Pellegrino strums note clusters and Delius unleashes a series of tongue smears, slaps and irregular vibrations. Additionally Giust’s opposite sticking on cymbals, plus busy drags and rebounds replicate the abrasions of electronic oscillations as “City Thought” becomes more conceptual. Most impressive is the unique contrast between Delius’ legato clarinet vibrato, mirrored by the guitarist’s classical guitar licks, and a contrasting invention as Thomas’ bowed bass line, which doubles the tenor saxophonist’s diaphragm-pitched smears and tongue flutters.

Jazz echoes are more distant, while electro-acoustic interface is more obvious due to preparations, plug-ins and objects on Transition de Phase. Yet with all five musicians present on all three tracks, fewer phase transitions occur than on the Berlin-recorded CD. Polyphonic textures encompassing percussive rustling, reed burbles, string spiccato, intermittent metal pops, chromatic hand bell-like chiming and organ-like oscillations flap throughout earlier tracks as a prelude to the more than 26½-minute final improvisation.

During this variant, instrumental strategies are tried out, expanded upon and sometimes abandoned. The aural fascination lies with the reality that many of these inventions are taking place simultaneously. While, for instance, Normand and Myhr use slurred fingering and irregular string frails, pedal-point reed snorts from Lauzier’s bass clarinet and Denley’s prepared alto saxophone spetrofluctuation mirror or operate in contrast to one another’s timbres. Meanwhile objects are rattled and popped, strings thumped, tubular bells rung and metal surfaces screeched abrasively. Friction accelerates by the improvisation’s final measures as harp-like clattering from the guitar, ragged false fingering and pitch vibrato from the horns and object-striking object with the force of a stick against a guiro, are all amplified by electronic impulses. Ultimately a finale is attained from Normand’s swift vibe-like resonations on his strings, and as the reed tongue-stops and honks cease.

More than sessions where visiting musical firemen play alongside other, usually local players, both these CDs present intuitive sound melding with equally committed improvisers on all sides.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Transition: 1. Phase 1 2. Phase 2 3. Phase 3

Personnel: Transition: Philippe Lauzier (soprano saxophone and bass clarinet) Jim Denley (alto saxophone and flute); Pierre-Yves Martel (treble viol and electronics); Kim Myhr (acoustic guitar and objects) and Éric Normand (electric bass)

Track Listing: Three: 1. Zoo Off+ 2. City Thought+ 3. Living Floors+ 4. As You 5. Was A Thing 6. Isn’t* 7. Touch*

Personnel: Three: Chris Heenan (alto saxophone and contrabass clarinet)*; Tobias Delius (tenor saxophone and clarinet); Mikaele Pellegrino (classical and electric guitars); Clayton Thomas (bass)+ and Stefano Giust (drums, cymbals and objects)

June 5, 2011

Anne LeBaron

1, 2, 4, 3
Innova 236

Perhaps it’s the because of a longer and more genteel recital tradition, but while improvisers such as the United Kingdom’s Rhodri Davies and France’s Hélène Breschand have forged unique microtonal and multiphonic roles for the concert or Celtic harp, as far as most music followers are concerned, in North America only Zeena Parkins is involved with similar multi-string experiments. Well, not quite.

Anne LeBaron, who teaches at the California Institute of the Arts in Valencia, and is best-known as a composer of operas and other New music celebrating fantastic figures such as Pope Joan, Marie Laveau, and the American Housewife, has a parallel career as a harpist. LeBaron’s forays have included recordings with Jazz and/or Free Musicians such as pianist Muhal Richard Abrams and reedist Wolfgang Fuchs and his King Übü Örchestrü. This two-CD set consists of notable improvisations from eight different sessions between 2002 and 2010.

Someone who has explored the tones and textures of her instrument in performance and composition, LeBaron’s most consistent statements here involve interjections from other string players. Although her group work with horn players is also stimulating, it lacks the simpatico timbres created by string melding. Conversely and regrettably, the five excursions that match her harp with its Japanese equivalent and a Far Eastern woodwind appear more oriented towards sonic novelty.

Probably the most consistent instances of group string interactions occur on tracks with pianist Georg Graewe and bassist John Lindberg from 2008. Multi-colored fantasias with frequent metronomic or percussive asides, the performances set up shifting string inventions. “Wake” for instance involves buzzing and sul ponticello strategies from the bassist, high frequency metronomic pacing from the pianist plus an occasional plink and pluck from the harpist. Eventually as the tune moves from andante to presto, LeBaron’s broken-octave, percussive additions put in sharper relief the pianist’s pitter-patter chording and elastic cadenzas or her speedy glissandi intersect with wooden slaps from Lindberg. Outright friction characterizes the follow up “Stream”. Its cumulative galloping tremolos somehow manage to be both impressionistic and abrasive.

Just as striking are LeBaron’s duets – or duets adding electronics – with violinist Leroy Jenkins. Alone on “Rippling with Leroy” the two sympathetically expand the textures available with multi-string rubato runs from the fiddler and resonating note clusters from the harpist. This reaches a climax as Jenkins’ more irregularly vibrated lines are met by LeBaron’s connective strums. Finally the harp’s multi-string glissandi supersede Jenkins’ strident sprawls.

Adding electronics spreads out nodes, partials and oscillations in both players’ output. However “Lagniappe: Hourglass of Stars”, adding Earl Howard’s signal processing to the harp and the violin timbres augmented with live electronics leads to more sonic colors. For instance granular synthesis allows blurred hums to be pierced by soft, vibes-like strokes, prepared harp shimmies, harsh fiddle swipes and guitar-like strums. The wrap up transforms the formerly gentle presentation into staccato resonations.

Bassist Torsten Mueller along with LeBaron provide the connective comping on tracks involving horn players, most notably in a group with trombonist Paul Rutherford; Fuchs on bass or contrabass clarinet; Chris Heenan on alto saxophone or bass clarinet; and from the legit side of fence, Nathan Smith on clarinet and bass clarinet. Working in a language that has strong Jazz antecedents as well as New music’s lack of restrictions, there are points at which four different yet parallel lines are advanced simultaneously.

Particularly dazzling are those points at which Heenan and Rutherford face off. “Make a Map, Not a Tracing”, for instance mixes the alto saxophonist’s narrowed reed bites and altissimo runs with the trombonist’s braying andante lines. Heenan’s subsequent contrapuntal comments on Rutherford’s mellow slurs are encouraged by the bassist’s low-pitched plucks and the harpist’s finger-picking patterns. “Deleuzion” on the other hand is enlivened when LeBaron’s staccato dulcimer-like plucks are challenged by plunger pulses from the trombonist. This follows an interlude where Heenan’s squeezed reed bites and Rutherford’s discursive trills are initially backed by guitar-like comping from the bassist. LeBaron’s comfort with the alto saxophonist may result from her earlier experience playing with him in the ad-hoc American-European Mount Washington ensemble.

Fuchs’ subterranean tones are put to best use on “Succulent Blues”, where his snorting contrabass clarinet creates a heavily rhythmic bottom for Mueller’s irregularly pumped strings. Meantime LeBaron’s swift, low-pitched pizzicato and higher-pitched lines from violinist Ronit Kirchman replicate piano-like glissandi and guitar-like twangs respectively. The finale involves Fuchs’ irregularly vibrated lines balancing on top of an overlay of sul tasto strings impulses.

Although the trio tracks with kotoist Kanoko Nishi and shakuhachi-player Kiku Day add variety to the two-CD set, the end result is too ethereal, especially when compared to the improvisations. Filled with spare, morose and otherworldly flanges and clinks, the most memorable narrative is also the spikiest. “Funeral Bells for Harry Partch”, honouring the American pioneer of just intonation, is filled with koto shimmies, metronomic harp twangs and a wraithlike lyricism from Day. Initially played diminuendo in a near-monotone, the piece resolves itself when long-lined shakuhachi puffs, cascading glissandi from LeBaron and Nishi’s staccatissimo thumps combine.

Fascinating for those interested in the evolution of harp playing beyond decoration and accompaniment, 1, 2, 3, 4 should also attract those who follow any of these participants, fascinated to hear how interaction with a harpist changes everyone’s sounds.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: CD1: 1. Heat Wave 1 2. Succulent Blues~+% 3. Rippling with Leroy? 4. Mirage? 5. Deleuzion*&% 6. Principles of the Rhizome*&% 7. Make a Map, Not a Tracing*&% 8. Heat Wave 2 9. Intermezzo+ CD2: 1. Wake# 2. Stream# 3. Sukkulaoi Scream^ 4. Into Something Rich and Strange! 5. Submerged Cavern! 6. Song of Marble! 7. Funeral Bells for Harry Partch! 8. Full Fathom Funayurei! 9. Lagniappe: Hourglass of Stars?@

Personnel: Paul Rutherford (trombone)*; Nathan Smith (clarinet and bass clarinet)^; Chris Heenan (alto saxophone or bass clarinet)&; Wolfgang Fuchs bass clarinet or contrabass clarinet)+; Kiku Day (shakuhachi)!; Anne LeBaron (harp, amplified harp, electronics, flute and percussion); Georg Graewe (piano)#; Ronit Kirchman (violin) ~; Leroy Jenkins (violin or amplified violin)?; Kristin Haraldsdottir (viola)^; Torsten Mueller% or John Lindberg (bass)#; Kanoko Nishi (koto)! and Earl Howard (electronics)@

April 3, 2011

HumaNoise Congress #20

Wiesbaden Germany
September 26 – 28, 2008

Like an improvised music version of TV’s Survivor – although no one gets voted off the stage – the participants in HumaNoise Congress (HNC) #20, held in Wiesbaden Germany, about 16 kilometers from Frankfurt, had three days in which to discover each others’ talents and technical skills. Unlike the reality show however, the players don’t form alliances among themselves, but instead are organized into different combinations throughout the sessions to see what unexpected sonic sparks could be struck. It’s a testament to the musicians’ listening skills and familiarity with extended techniques that so many one-of-a-kind meetings were so memorable.

Involved in this hothouse atmosphere at the Kunsthaus in late September were 10 players from Germany and elsewhere. From Wiesbaden came electronics manipulator Uli Böttcher and percussionist Wolfgang Schliemann. Flautist Margret Trescher is from nearby Mainz, trumpeter Birgit Ulher from Hamburg and violinist Tiziana Bertoncini from Köln. Chris Heenan, who plays alto saxophone and contrabass clarinet and Willehad Grafenhorst, whose preferred instruments are electronics and contrabass balalaika are Berlin residents. Out-of-country participants were pianist Frédéric Blondy from Paris, Lyon-based bassist Benoît Cancoin, and tenor and soprano saxophonist Urs Leimgruber from Luzern.

Not all the in-the-moment encounters worked. Over-dependent on technique, free to play as they choose and with elastic time limits, some participants allowed single-minded virtuosity and bombastic bravura to replace careful mutual listening and sound cooperation during a few disappointing sets. Luckily such lapses were in the minority.

What was apparent by the completion of the three-day musical marathon however, was that this sounding out – literally – of each other’s strengths and idiosyncrasies led to a wholly-satisfying, concluding “tutti” with each improviser participating. Sonic fulfillment wasn’t reserved for the finale however. Skirting the malfunctions implicit in any unscheduled improv, groupings ranging from duos to quintets created many episodes of empathic sound transference.

For instance an all-acoustic meeting featuring Leimgruber, Ulher, Schliemann and Grafenhorst – playing a contrabass balalaika so large that one edge was propped up on a metal peg – wobbled without losing its equilibrium between lyricism and drones. With Grafenhorst’s slick, finger-style, dobro-like frailing and Schliemann’s rhythmic impetus consisting of bell pealing, bow rubbed against a hand-held cymbal and sticks rubbed – not whacked – on drum tops, space was opened for a virtuosic horn display.

Evolving from low-key parallel gurgling, the brass player and the reedist created individualistic styles. Ulher methodically tongue stopped, then blew colored air through her horn’s body tube without holding the horn to her lips, as Leimgruber inflated a pure tone to wider, more dissonant and more intense vibrations. Waving his horn vertically, the saxophonist produced a continuous concentric trill that pushed the trumpeter into respectful silence until she finally countered with Donald Ayler-styled note spatters. Beside them, Grafenhorst plucked his instrument’s lower strings like a jazz bass and the drummer whapped his woodblock while sounding a steady beat. Interrupting this lapse into formalism with gong-like resonations on unattached cymbals, Schliemann induced Leimgruber to further undercut convention by vibrating soprano saxophone tones on internal strings inside the nearby piano, using the split-tone echoes to reach a lyrical resolution.

Although in retrospect it lacked a conclusive finale, Böttcher’s interface with pianist Blondy and Heenan on contrabass clarinet was memorable as well. Most physical of the players, the pianist often karate chopped notes on the keyboard, then half pulled his arm away so as to extend the echoes still further. Blondy also shook miniature bells near his piano’s soundboard, rolled marbles on the strings and plucked them with hard stocks, a hairbrush and a miniature watering can.

Meantime Böttcher’s laptop computer multiplied input and output signals to splatter, pulsate and done, at points melding with pedal-point respirations from Hennan’s giant woodwind. Holding the metal beats nearly horizontally Hennan sputtered out a watery blues line in diaphragm breaths causing Blondy to hammer repeatedly on the keys and the laptopist to produce drum-like timbres by employing a small mallet on his keyboard. Reaching triple counterpoint, the climax then dissipated into tinkling, high-frequency chords from the piano, foghorn-like toots from the clarinet and jiggling pulses and stops from the computer.

Even more notable were one duo between Bertoncini and Leimgruber and an electro-acoustic effort that matched Ulher and Cancoin with the dual laptop computers of Böttcher and Grafenhorst. On the former, the violinist’s round and sprightly lines and the saxophonist’s elongated tone quickly jumbled into string-scratching from the fiddler and duck quacks and key percussion from the reedist. Deciding on a cumulative dissonant rapprochement, the duo concluded with Bertoncini highlighting a series of widely stopped spiccato jabs as Leimgruber rested the saxophone horizontally on his lap and slapped its bell and individual keys to produce ringing percussive tones.

An apt illustration of the cerebral thought process that goes into instantaneous improvisation appeared during the introduction to the Ulher-Cancoin-Böttcher-Grafenhorst quartet piece. While the horns buzzed collectively, Grafenhorst remained lost in thought, only adding his computer wiggling interface to Böttcher’s tremolo sine waves after minutes had passed. As the blurry oscillations evolved parallel to one another, Ulher, plugging her horn into a transistor radio, used the resulting static as commentary on, and complement to, her half-valve slurs. Cancoin then stroked his bow upwards on his strings, creating a percussive effect, and by thus recalling the introductory drone, cements the circular nature of the performance.

With all 10 players arrayed across the stage of the Kunsthaus’ improvised concert hall, facing the audience in rows of folding chairs, the HNC’s final collective set confirms the sound melding that has solidified during the preceding three days of numerous, intensive interactions.

Collectively the players have built a series of small gestures into strategies and techniques that can be used for musical collectivity and transference. With Schliemann spanking his drum tops with sponges or the rims of his drums with the back of brushes, it’s Cancoin’s sul ponticello string slaps and Blondy’s thick, tremolo internal string plucks which become the percussion section. Holding her flute vertically, the peeps and foreshortened air bites that arise from Trescher’s instrument made common cause with whistling shrills issuing from Leimgruber’s saxophone. Ulher’s legato, nearly inaudible breaths complemented Bertoncini’s violin’s spiccato plucks; and an ever-shifting undercurrent of burbling white noise was divided between the laptops of Grafenhorst and Böttcher.

Cutting loose from the collective, undifferentiated sound, Blondy’s jocular, twanging string vibrations created the conclusive finale. Still the collective expelled horn breaths – including subterranean honks from Heenan’s contrabass clarinet – became a coda that signaled both the end of this improvisation and it’s continuation for the participating musicians – and at the next HumaNoise Congress.

-- Ken Waxman

-- MusicWorks Issue #103

March 28, 2009

mikado im innerklavier

20. HumaNoise Congress
Tage Improvisierter Musik in Wiesbaden

[English below]

Sinn und Zweck eines Kongresses ist es, lebendige Interaktion zwischen den Mitgliedern einer Gruppe zu ermöglichen. In diesem Sinne war der dreitägige HumaNoise Congress im Wiesbadener Kunsthaus ein voller Erfolg. Zum 20. Male hatte die Kooperative New Jazz im September 2008 10 internationale Musiker zu einem langen Wochenende mit öffentlichen Proben und Konzerten eingeladen.

Die klanglichen Errungenschaften der großen (Tutti) und verschiedenen kleineren Besetzungen sind um so bemerkenswerter, als alle Teilnehmer sich der Freien Improvisation widmen. Musikalisch immer auf des Messers Schneide balancierend, ohne Partitur oder vorgefassten Plan, vertrauten die Spieler ihrer Vorstellungskraft gepaart mit technischer Versiertheit, um gehaltvoll miteinander zu kommunizieren.

Dabei waren die Mainzer Flötistin Margret Trescher; die Trompeterin Birgit Ulher aus Hamburg; aus Köln die Geigerin Tiziana Bertoncini; zwei Berliner: Chris Heenan, Altsax und Kontrabassklarinette sowie Willehad Grafenhorst, Kontrabass Balalaika and Elektronik; zwei Musiker aus Wiesbaden: Schlagwerker Wolfgang Schliemann und Ulrich Böttcher, Elektronik; dazu der Schweizer Sopran- und Tenorsaxophonist Urs Leimgruber; sowie aus Frankreich Pianist Frédéric Blondy und Bassist Benoît Cancoin.

Zugegeben: einige der spontanen Improvisationen waren nicht ganz so herausragend. Im Bestreben, ihre instrumentalen Techniken zum äußersten Extrem zu treiben, geriet mancher Beitrag zu stark, sodass andere Spieler übersehen oder gar zum Schweigen gebracht wurden. Zum Glück waren solche Episoden eher selten. Besonders eindrucksvoll dagegen waren die Begegnungen, in denen die Musiker kurze, einladende Gesten einsetzten, um ihren Punkt zu machen. Interessanterweise gab es diese Treffen vor allem am zweiten und dritten Tag des HumaNoise Congresses, nachdem die Teilnehmer sich mit den jeweils anderen Spielauffassungen und Reaktionen vertrauter fühlten.

Bertoncinis Duo mit Leimgruber am Sopran zum Beispiel durchlief eine frenetische Transformation. Zu Beginn ergänzten ihre gerundeten und lebhaften Linien die vereinzelten, langanhaltend reinen Töne des Saxophonisten. Dann veranlasste ihr Fiddle-scratching ihn zu entengleichem Geschnatter, was bei ihr zu sul ponticello und wiederum bei ihm zu Zirkularatmung führte. Diese flirrenden Flächen kommentierte sie mit weit gegriffenen Akkorden und freiem spiccato Bogen. Nach einem gemeinsamen Crescendo mit weit auseinanderliegenden Tönen fand das Stück seinen Abschluß mit Bertoncinis entschlossenem Geigenstrich während Leimgruber seinem Saxophon durch sanfte Schläge auf Korpus und Klappen ein ganz eigenes Timbre entlockte.

Die Begegnung Cancoin, Ulher, Böttcher und Grafenhorst am Laptop entfaltete das volle Potenzial elektro-akustischer Interfaces und offenbarte zugleich die Denkprozesse hinter solchem Zusammenspiel. Am Anfang, während die anderen schon spielten, saß Grafenhorst minutenlang bewegungslos da wie Rodins „Denker“, bevor er Böttchers Frequenzmodulationen mit pulsierendem Zischen aus seinem Laptop ergänzte. Derweil hatte Ulher ihre Trompete mit einem Transistorradio verschaltet und nutze das resultierende Rauschen als Hintergrund für nervöse Halbventileffekte. Cancoin erzeugte mit seinem Bassbogen hoch über dem Griffbrett resonanzreiche Klangfülle, seine unregelmäßigen Striche vermischten sich mit Grafenhorsts Sinus-Interferenzen und Böttchers rauem signal processing. Am Ende fand das Stück kreisläufig zurück zum Anfang.

Blondy war wohl der theatralischste aller Spieler, obwohl er das traditionellste - und größte – Instrument spielte. Jeder seiner klanglichen Einwürfe wurde von einer motorischen Entsprechung begleitet. Oftmals sprang er auf und ließ, nachdem er eine Taste gedrückt hatte, seinen Arm ausschwingen, als würde ihn die Bewegung zum nächsten Akkordklang tragen. Wie Karateschläge kamen die Cluster, sein Körper schlängelte sich am Griffbrett entlang, um die Extreme zu erreichen. Er stoppte oder strich die Saiten im Innern des Flügels, schlug sie mit Schlegeln, zog Zahnseide oder ähnliches hindurch, rieb sie mit Ratschen oder ließ Bälle auf ihnen rollen. Mit Player-Piano Anspielungen begleitete er Ulhers gedämpftes Trompetengrollen; während näselnde Paino-Saiten und fallende Mikado-Stäbe im Flügelinnern Heenans fette, orgelpunktartige Bassklarinette verstärkten. Wo Schliemann seine Trommelfelle sanft mit Schwämmen wischte oder mit den Handflächen tupfte, waren Blondys Klavierattacken häufig die perkussivste Performance der Gruppe.

Das abschließende Tutti am Sonntagabend bekräftigte nochmals, dass die Kooperative New Jazz erneut einen bemerkenswerten HumaNoise Congress organisiert hatte. Ganz deutlich zeigte sich die kreative Teamarbeit und der Techniktransfer zwischen den Teilnehmern. Treschers Flötenspiel zeigte vertikalen Biss ebenso wie lyrische Phrasierung; Bertoncinis sul tasto Bewegungen fanden ebenso entschlossene Resonanz wie Cancoins schlagkräftige Bassbearbeitung; die Wellenbewegungen der beiden Computer und die mit großer Übersicht eingebrachte Perkussion verbanden sich aufs Feinste mit Leimgrubers flüssig geblasenen Girlanden.

-- Ken Waxman

-- for NeueZeitdchrift Für Musik November/December 2008

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Meeting to forge interaction among members of a group is the aim of a congress. And that is what the 20th HumaNoise Congress (HNC) held in Wiesbaden’s Kunsthaus, succeeded in doing musically during three days in September. The sonic achievements of the conclusive group “tutti” and what evolved during a series of mix’n’match interfaces among the 10 musicians was all the more notable since HNC participants are free improvisers. Balancing on the musical knife-edge, without scores or pre-determined plans, the players relied on imagination and considerable technical skill to communicate satisfactorily.

Featured were Mainz flautist Margret Trescher; Hamburg trumpeter Birgit Ulher; Köln violinist Tiziana Bertoncini; two Berliners: Chris Heenan on alto saxophone and contrabass clarinet and Willehad Grafenhorst playing contrabass balalaika and electronics; two musicians from Wiesbaden: percussionist Wolfgang Schliemann and Ulrich Böttcher on electronics; plus Swiss soprano and tenor saxophonist Urs Leimgruber; and pianist Frédéric Blondy and bassist Benoît Cancoin from France.

Admittedly, some of the one-off improvs were less-than-stellar. Intent on stretching instrumental techniques to the furthest extreme, some players overstated their contributions in such a way that others were ignored or silenced. Luckily those episodes were infrequent. In fact, the most impressive match-ups were those in which the players used short, welcoming gestures to make their points. Interestingly enough, these mostly took place on the HNC’s second and third days, as participants become comfortable with each other’s responses.

For instance Bertoncini’s duo with Leimgruber on soprano involved a frenetic transformation. At first her round and sprightly lines complemented the saxophonist’s single, elongated pure tone. Then her fiddle-scratching led him to duck-like quacks, causing her to play sul ponticello and him to invoke circular breathing. These reed note flurries induced her to showcase wide stops and spiccato bow slaps. Following a crescendo of splayed notes from both sides, the piece concluded with Bertoncini bowing decisively and Leimgruber resting the saxophone horizontally on his lap and slapping its bell and keys for unique timbres.

A meeting among Cancoin, Ulher, Böttcher and Grafenhorst on laptop demonstrated the full potential of electro-acoustic interface as well as the thought processes behind such cooperation. For several minutes at the beginning while the others played, Grafenhorst sat motionless like Rodin’s “The Thinker” before using his laptop to add pulsating hisses to Böttcher’s side band modifications. Meantime Ulher had wired her trumpet into a transistor radio, using the resulting static as backing for jittery, half-valve effects. As Cancoin dragged his bow upwards on the strings for maximum resonance, his irregular strokes met sine-wave interference from Grafenhorst’s computer and abrasive signal-processed grinding from Böttcher’s laptop. Eventually though, the piece’s resolution circularly mirrored its beginning.

Blondy was probably the most theatrical of the players, considering that he was playing the most traditional – and largest –instrument. Yet every one of his licks seemed to have an equivalent follow-through. Often he would jump up and swing his arm after making a keyboard sound, letting the motion carry him to the next bit of chording. He karate-chopped notes and slithered his body across the keyboard for maximum reach. He hand-stopped and bowed the piano’s strings, hit them with mallets and worked what seemed to be dental floss among them. He also shoved a variety of implements beneath the piano’s lid included ratchets and balls. His player piano-like intimations accompanied Ulher’s plunger trumpet growls; while twanging piano strings, plus the timbres created by dropping bundled sticks inside the piano, amplified Heenan’s thick, pedal-point blurts. With Schliemann using sponges on drum tops and usually tapping them gently and individually, it was often Blondy’s attack that was the most percussive of the group’s.

By the final night’s climatic group performance it was apparent that Kooperative new jazz had organized another notable HNC. Creative team work and transference of techniques among the participants was definitely apparent. Trescher’s flute playing involved vertical bites and blows as well as lyrical phrasing; Bertoncini’s sul tasto movements resonated as decisively as Cancoin’s whacks on the larger instrument’s strings; while the dual computer undulations and restrained percussion smacks made common cause with Leimgruber’s watery reed shrilling.

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Toronto, Canada-based Ken Waxman writes about jazz and improvised music for international publications.

November 17, 2008

Michael Vorfeld/Chris Heenan

Half Cloud, Half Plain
Esquilo Records ES008/ESVAR004

Wolfgang Schliemann/Michael Vorfeld

Alle Neune: Rheinländer Partie

Creative Sources CS 089 CD

Both a respected visual artist and a musician, Berlin-based Michael Vorfeld has carved a unique niche for himself by improvising percussively not only on an extended variant of the drum kit, but with an attached collection of strings he hits, bows and scratches. Affiliations for these unique sounds have ranged from his membership in a trio with Wiesbaden-based reedist Dirk Marwedel to the large Ensemble 2 INQ.

Taking another route, these examples of his art are in duo form, and both share a jagged, futuristic approach. Otherwise they couldn’t be more different. Half Cloud, Half Plain matches Vorfeld’s percussion arsenal with the extended techniques of American Chris Heenan’s contrabass clarinet. Alle Neune: Rheinländer Partie, in contrast, is a combination of Vorfeld with fellow percussionist Wolfgang Schliemann – who also plays in Ensemble 2 INQ. Subtitled “percussive work since 1992”, it showcases nine percussion duets.

While likely to be more admired by beat-mongers, the later disc may be a bit too much of a good thing for the non-percussion fanatics. Striking (ahem), for the way in which Schliemann and Vorfeld can produce with only four limbs as many textures, rhythms and pulses that Art Blakey- or Max Roach-led percussion ensemble needed many associates to create, the CD is very much of a piece. And that piece can go a very, very long way – as drum battles featuring the likes of Roach and Buddy Rich or Rich and Gene Krupa proved earlier on.

The main fascination here lies in trying to isolate which implement is being struck, oscillated, triggered, scraped, thumped, whistled, pulled, pressed or whacked to generate a particular sound or sounds.

Among the particulars noted are what seem to be breath aspirations, abrasions on unyielding but responsive metal surfaces, wood aggressively ruptured and split apart, crumbling and balled paper, strokes on glass test tubes, wetted fingers dragged along drum heads, upright drum sticks propelled across ride cymbals and the usual assortment of more expected ruffs, rebounds, paradiddles and flams.

Schliemann adds found sounds and objects to the mix, the textures of which evidently are responsible for the insistent squeak of penetrating splutters, radio-tuning-like flutters and motor-driven buzzing that adumbrate further peeping noises. Gradually these sounds are exposed as recurrent, striated beat oscillations. Overall, the program also leaves enough space for Vorfeld’s string-set thumps, the timbres of which end up being simultaneously organic and synthetic. For instance “Böse Fünf” seems to add triggered ring modulator sideband murmuring and insistent vibrated drones to a sequence of low-key intermittent palindromes. Moving backwards and forward, these sul tasto string-affiliations are blurrily framed among bass drum whacks and gong resonations, as well as isolated thick crunches which make it seems as if all the instruments are being physically wrenched with great difficulty across a solid surface.

Perhaps the most audacious track however, may be the first one, “Vorderkranz, grosser Keil.” On it the blurry, reductionistic sound waves produced by Vorfeld’s string drones and Schliemann triggered echoes are interrupted twice by split-second fortissimo excerpts from saxophonist Peter Brötzmann’s Machine Gun session. Whether designed as spoof or acknowledgment, no clearer link exists between today’s experimental music and that of the 1960s. The remainder of the track is then concerned with understated pitter-pattering and backbeat strokes, including church bell-like peals, static rotations and glass pings.

Chris Heenan is a multi-instrumentalist in the Brötzmann mold. He also plays alto saxophone, bass clarinet, contrabass clarinet and analog synthesizer and works with musicians ranging from New York guitarist Chris Forsyth to Hamburg trumpeter Birgit Ulher. Unlike Brötzmann, who has never found a note he couldn’t inflate to its widest circumference, Heenan is a committed minimalist, belying the size of his horn, by concentrating on muted pressured overblowing.

On this session, ironically recorded in the exact same Berlin space less than five months after Alle Neune: Rheinländer Partie, Heenan’s staccato yet unadulterated timbres provide a sympathetic contrast to Vorfeld’s percussion textures. Common Free Music tropes such as tongue-slapping and colored air expelling on the reedist’s part and harsh, inchoate drags on unyielding metal and pounding on unconnected surfaces on the percussionist’s aren’t neglected. But the profoundly acoustic interplay – including protracted silences – would never be confused with earlier reed-percussion duos such as those of Even Parker and Paul Lytton or Brötzmann and Han Bennink. Here barely-there rhythmic pulses and didjeridoo-like hollow tube echoes make common cause with unexpected passages of musique brut, where rampaging thrashing and jagged strumming on the percussionist’s part often arise and dissipate unexpectedly.

Instead, on a track like “Darker at the Bottom than at the Top”, tongue pops and slaps plus reed snorts continuously meet up with pressurized drum rolls and the screech of scraped cymbals. Although the bulging, polyphonic drone is almost mechanized, you know a human is involved when you hear Heenan audibly stop to breathe in more air as he plays.

Also characteristic on Half Cloud, Half Plain is the more than 14-minute title track, where a solid interface is produced by harsh and jagged pressure from both Vorfeld’s utensils plus Hennan’s low-pitched aviary vibrato. As the reedist continues growling staccato split tones and their reflective overtones, the percussionist’s chromatic rattles, squeaks and splintered ride-cymbal friction retreats enough to allow Hennan to snort a final flowing tone studded with fortissimo key pops.

Although the diversity among the sounds produced by reeds on one hand and strings-and-percussion on the other give this CD an upper hand over the other, both are fine examples of Vorfeld’s distinctic sonic art.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Half: 1. Half Cloud, Half Plain 2. Darker at the Bottom than at the Top 3. Once Over in the Plain Part and Twice in the Clouds 4. One Large Opening with Others Smaller 5. Clouds Lighter than the Plain Part

Personnel: Half: Chris Heenan (contrabass clarinet) and Michael Vorfeld (stringed instruments and percussion)

Track Listing: Alle: 1. Vorderkranz, grosser Keil 2. Rumelner Kracher 3. Drei - gerade aus Bärbel 4. Variante von Fuchsschwanz 5. Böse Fünf 6. Schräge Sechs links 7. Die verflixte Sieben 8. Hau den König 9. Letzte Chance

Personnel: Alle: Wolfgang Schliemann (assorted percussion and found objects, hit, bowed, scratched and thrown) and Michael Vorfeld (stringed instruments and percussion, hit, bowed, scratched and plugged)

June 17, 2008

Wolfgang Schliemann/Michael Vorfeld

Alle Neune: Rheinländer Partie
Creative Sources CS 089 CD

Michael Vorfeld/Chris Heenan

Half Cloud, Half Plain

Esquilo Records ES008/ESVAR004

Both a respected visual artist and a musician, Berlin-based Michael Vorfeld has carved a unique niche for himself by improvising percussively not only on an extended variant of the drum kit, but with an attached collection of strings he hits, bows and scratches. Affiliations for these unique sounds have ranged from his membership in a trio with Wiesbaden-based reedist Dirk Marwedel to the large Ensemble 2 INQ.

Taking another route, these examples of his art are in duo form, and both share a jagged, futuristic approach. Otherwise they couldn’t be more different. Half Cloud, Half Plain matches Vorfeld’s percussion arsenal with the extended techniques of American Chris Heenan’s contrabass clarinet. Alle Neune: Rheinländer Partie, in contrast, is a combination of Vorfeld with fellow percussionist Wolfgang Schliemann – who also plays in Ensemble 2 INQ. Subtitled “percussive work since 1992”, it showcases nine percussion duets.

While likely to be more admired by beat-mongers, the later disc may be a bit too much of a good thing for the non-percussion fanatics. Striking (ahem), for the way in which Schliemann and Vorfeld can produce with only four limbs as many textures, rhythms and pulses that Art Blakey- or Max Roach-led percussion ensemble needed many associates to create, the CD is very much of a piece. And that piece can go a very, very long way – as drum battles featuring the likes of Roach and Buddy Rich or Rich and Gene Krupa proved earlier on.

The main fascination here lies in trying to isolate which implement is being struck, oscillated, triggered, scraped, thumped, whistled, pulled, pressed or whacked to generate a particular sound or sounds.

Among the particulars noted are what seem to be breath aspirations, abrasions on unyielding but responsive metal surfaces, wood aggressively ruptured and split apart, crumbling and balled paper, strokes on glass test tubes, wetted fingers dragged along drum heads, upright drum sticks propelled across ride cymbals and the usual assortment of more expected ruffs, rebounds, paradiddles and flams.

Schliemann adds found sounds and objects to the mix, the textures of which evidently are responsible for the insistent squeak of penetrating splutters, radio-tuning-like flutters and motor-driven buzzing that adumbrate further peeping noises. Gradually these sounds are exposed as recurrent, striated beat oscillations. Overall, the program also leaves enough space for Vorfeld’s string-set thumps, the timbres of which end up being simultaneously organic and synthetic. For instance “Böse Fünf” seems to add triggered ring modulator sideband murmuring and insistent vibrated drones to a sequence of low-key intermittent palindromes. Moving backwards and forward, these sul tasto string-affiliations are blurrily framed among bass drum whacks and gong resonations, as well as isolated thick crunches which make it seems as if all the instruments are being physically wrenched with great difficulty across a solid surface.

Perhaps the most audacious track however, may be the first one, “Vorderkranz, grosser Keil.” On it the blurry, reductionistic sound waves produced by Vorfeld’s string drones and Schliemann triggered echoes are interrupted twice by split-second fortissimo excerpts from saxophonist Peter Brötzmann’s Machine Gun session. Whether designed as spoof or acknowledgment, no clearer link exists between today’s experimental music and that of the 1960s. The remainder of the track is then concerned with understated pitter-pattering and backbeat strokes, including church bell-like peals, static rotations and glass pings.

Chris Heenan is a multi-instrumentalist in the Brötzmann mold. He also plays alto saxophone, bass clarinet, contrabass clarinet and analog synthesizer and works with musicians ranging from New York guitarist Chris Forsyth to Hamburg trumpeter Birgit Ulher. Unlike Brötzmann, who has never found a note he couldn’t inflate to its widest circumference, Heenan is a committed minimalist, belying the size of his horn, by concentrating on muted pressured overblowing.

On this session, ironically recorded in the exact same Berlin space less than five months after Alle Neune: Rheinländer Partie, Heenan’s staccato yet unadulterated timbres provide a sympathetic contrast to Vorfeld’s percussion textures. Common Free Music tropes such as tongue-slapping and colored air expelling on the reedist’s part and harsh, inchoate drags on unyielding metal and pounding on unconnected surfaces on the percussionist’s aren’t neglected. But the profoundly acoustic interplay – including protracted silences – would never be confused with earlier reed-percussion duos such as those of Even Parker and Paul Lytton or Brötzmann and Han Bennink. Here barely-there rhythmic pulses and didjeridoo-like hollow tube echoes make common cause with unexpected passages of musique brut, where rampaging thrashing and jagged strumming on the percussionist’s part often arise and dissipate unexpectedly.

Instead, on a track like “Darker at the Bottom than at the Top”, tongue pops and slaps plus reed snorts continuously meet up with pressurized drum rolls and the screech of scraped cymbals. Although the bulging, polyphonic drone is almost mechanized, you know a human is involved when you hear Heenan audibly stop to breathe in more air as he plays.

Also characteristic on Half Cloud, Half Plain is the more than 14-minute title track, where a solid interface is produced by harsh and jagged pressure from both Vorfeld’s utensils plus Hennan’s low-pitched aviary vibrato. As the reedist continues growling staccato split tones and their reflective overtones, the percussionist’s chromatic rattles, squeaks and splintered ride-cymbal friction retreats enough to allow Hennan to snort a final flowing tone studded with fortissimo key pops.

Although the diversity among the sounds produced by reeds on one hand and strings-and-percussion on the other give this CD an upper hand over the other, both are fine examples of Vorfeld’s distinctic sonic art.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Half: 1. Half Cloud, Half Plain 2. Darker at the Bottom than at the Top 3. Once Over in the Plain Part and Twice in the Clouds 4. One Large Opening with Others Smaller 5. Clouds Lighter than the Plain Part

Personnel: Half: Chris Heenan (contrabass clarinet) and Michael Vorfeld (stringed instruments and percussion)

Track Listing: Alle: 1. Vorderkranz, grosser Keil 2. Rumelner Kracher 3. Drei - gerade aus Bärbel 4. Variante von Fuchsschwanz 5. Böse Fünf 6. Schräge Sechs links 7. Die verflixte Sieben 8. Hau den König 9. Letzte Chance

Personnel: Alle: Wolfgang Schliemann (assorted percussion and found objects, hit, bowed, scratched and thrown) and Michael Vorfeld (stringed instruments and percussion, hit, bowed, scratched and plugged)

June 17, 2008

Dietrich Eichmann Ensemble

The Hot Days
Leo CD LR 486

Berlin-based composer and improvising pianist Dietrich Eichmann has been involved in creating an array of notated and instantly created sounds during his two-decade long creative career. But it’s likely that this session is the first he – or perhaps any one else – has organized where one of the main musical voices is a hearing aid.

Luckily, Gunnar Brandt-Sigurdsson who “plays”– if that’s the proper term – the device, overcomes the novelty factor and manages to convert it into a flexible improvising voice. In this slice of 21st Century improv, harsh oscillated timbres fashioned from the ear-addition are and just as crucial for this music as the alternating undulating blasts and delicate breaths of American Chris Hennan’s alto saxophone and contrabass clarinet also heard here.

Basically the more-than-63-minute CD is divided between the tracks featuring the contributions of Brandt-Sigurdsson, and those without his unique sound source. “Worm from the Void” is the most instrumentally conventional, with Heenan and Eichmann joined by inventive local percussionist Michael Griener and the two basses of Christian Weber and Alexander Frangenheim, for their only appearance on the session. Two other tracks are stripped-down duets between the drummer and pianist. Griener’s resonating cymbals and bulls eye-positioned press rolls are also featured on the three-part Test of Ethics suite with Eichmann on harpsichord, Heenan on alto saxophone plus Brandt-Sigurdsson’s hearing aid.

How Brandt-Sigurdsson, who in his other life is a tenor vocalist specializing in New Music, became an aural instrument practitioner is an unanswered question. But during the suite and elsewhere, the device’s spectral timbres are meticulously utilized so that its output melds with that of Heenan’s alto saxophone. Whistling and buzzing like an exposed telephone wire, the hearing aid’s shrilling loops also make common cause with Griener’s cymbal undulation and Eichmann’s connective pianism.

Instructively, Heenan’s and Brandt-Sigurdsson’s interaction is given an extended showcase on the almost 18 minute “Five Star Strategy” with only Eichmann as referee. Here the pianist fans the piano keys as if he was shuffling playing cards, pitter patters note clusters, and bows his instrument’s internal strings. Eventually low-frequency chordal patterns are his backing contribution as both “horns” twitter and belch nearly interchangeable textures, finally accelerating to jagged, fortissimo growls. Since only a reed can be tongue-slapped, it’s finally identifiable. Yet that happens just before the piece climaxes with undulating rasps that encompass not only Brandt-Sigurdsson’s strident cries and Hennan’s bubbling breaths, but also Eichmann’s nasal toned bombarde.

Less unique, but ultimately more satisfying – at least sonically – are the pianist’s dialogues with Griener. On their own the communication is as pronounced as that between Misha Mengelberg and Han Bennink or Irène Schweizer and Pierre Favre. Innovatively comfortable is probably the best description, as uncoiling syncopation meets snap, slaps and ruffs in one case, while bass-pedal expanded upward runs complement drum top and side maneuvering in the other.

Note the potency of their duets when it turns out that bringing the two bassists and Heenan, on contrabass clarinet, into the mix doesn’t add that many sonic timbres on “The Worm in the Void”. In fact, the track is strikingly hushed for one involving the largest number of musicians. Throughout there’s merely the faint stirrings of metronomic piano chords, while the jumbo reed ululates colored air and the bassists are limited to sul tasto rubs. Thumping paradiddles and flams are the loudest sound. Yet by the finale all five players have molded dragging discord into unison drones, with a conclusive diminuendo fading into spacious silence.

The Hot Days is worth scrutinizing equally for Eichmann’s talents as a composer and player; for Brandt-Sigurdsson’s manipulation of a hitherto unexposed improvising tool; and for Griener’s and Hennan’s sympathetic and connective constructions.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Sweets from Above || Tests of Ethics: 2a) Prom Jitters and Joy 3b) Dedicated Public Servants 4c) Low Income Seniors 5. Fingerprint on New Security Trend 6. The Worm from the Void 7. Hot Stuff (Bouncing Right Back) 8. Intelligence Bowl 9. Five Star Tragedy 10. Decline of the Sighs

Personnel: Chris Heenan (alto saxophone and bass clarinet [all tracks but 1, 5, 8, 10]); Gunnar Brandt-Sigurdsson (hearing aid, electronics and vocals [all tracks but 5, 6, 8]); Dietrich Eichmann (piano, harpsichord or bombarde); Christian Weber [track 6] and Alexander Frangenheim [track 6 (bass) and Michael Griener (drums and percussion [all tracks but 1, 7, 9, 10])

January 25, 2008

RICH WEST

Bedouin Hornbook
Pfmentum CD016

DRAKE/FLINN/HEENAN
Team up
REIFY RE005

Approximately 50 years after California-made music was front and centre in the improv world, could we be in the midst of another West Coast Jazz phenomenon? On the evidence of some of the fine CDs recently released from the left side of the United States, the answer seems affirmative.

Unlike the 1950-1960 Cool Jazz interregnum, which was more-or-less Los Angeles-based -- with some San Francisco input -- this one stretches from San Diego in the south all the way up to Seattle, or Vancouver and other parts of British Columbia, if you ignore national borders. Unlike the homogenized, airy sound of the earlier epic as well, it involves more abrasive, harder tones and excursions -- although the real West Coast Jazz was never as musically facile as its detractors maintained.

Like the musicians in 1950-1960 however, the 21st century players don’t base their complete identity in the West and often go elsewhere for protracted periods. Furthermore in 2005’s climate of globalization, the sounds they make are as related to similar improvisational strategies evolving in Vienna, New York and Berlin as they are to other happenings in the Golden State.

That’s why these CDs, recorded in the same studio within six months of one another, and featuring two of the same musicians on both discs, sound so different. Drummer Rich West’s BEDOUIN HORNBOOK, a jaunty quintet session, built around Scott Ray’s tuba, is a scaled down cousin to rollicking ensembles like the ICP Orchestra. Guitarist Jeremy Drake and reedist Chris Heenan participate fully in this session, as does trumpeter Bruce Friedman. With drummer Stephen Flinn on TEAM UP however, Drake and Heenan are more atonal and busy exploring in methodical detail electro-acoustic improvising.

Drake, who spends his time on the sonic and timbral possibilities of the amplified acoustic guitar, usually performs with other experimenters such as drummer Alex Cline and fellow guitarist G. E. Stinson. Yet on BEDOUIN’s “Tribology”, for instance, his tone is so straight and his fills so close to standard picking that you’d think you were hearing Herb Ellis. Similarly Heenan, whose associations include gigs with an improvising clarinet trio and an on-the-edge duo with New York guitarist Chris Forsyth, plays a surprisingly mellow alto saxophone on the same tune, although he does allow himself some squeaks at the end.

Most of the piece’s shape comes from the rim shots and bounces of West, who when he isn’t improvising with free musicians like German multi-reedist Wolfgang Fuchs is playing in indie rock bands. Important imput also comes from a brassy and fussy trumpet lead from Friedman, who works elsewhere with Fuchs and Drake, plus the contrapuntal tuba ostinato from Scot Ray, who has not only been part of reedist Vinny Golia’s Large Ensemble, but toured with Brian Setzer’s Rockabilly orchestra. All in all, the session sounds like what would happen if Prime Time met up with a Second Line Brass Band.

Ray, who can slur and smear his textures on more jazzy pieces, gives a decadent Weimar Republic cabaret cast to “Friends of the Vacuum”, combining 1930s German pop and 1990s American rock. After some circling, chromatic trumpet runs, Drake expands his playing from finger picking to fuzztone licks and double-timed slides as the horn section vamps behind him. Here Friedman’s flutter tonguing is matched by rumbling drums and someone sounding what’s evidentially Harpo Marx’s old air horn -- it is LA after all.

West contributes a swinging march tempo and literal dance rhythms elsewhere, but the only time he’s involved with a Buddy Rich-like showiness is on “Tread”. Even on that piece, his solo serves as a bridge between two themes -- one metallic and slow and the other airy and speedier. Heenan’s slinky, legato alto sax line is doubled by the tuba and drum decoration, and then Friedman contributes his variations on the themes in a higher register.

Showpiece of the disc is the almost 15 minute “Twang”, which begins with a cistern-deep blast from tuba, then a spiccato bass line from the guitar. Throughout, the plectrumist uses scrapes to reshape and recapitulate the motif, while Ray supplies the pedal point continuum and West double strokes his drums. When it appears as if the slurred tuba lines, percussion ratamacues and frailing guitar licks are going to push the composition into dissonance, a jolly tarantella-like melody featuring tuba toots and Mr. Bones style drumming supersedes it. Combining, the five players exit the piece with a smooth polyphonic chord.

Should your tastes run more towards dissonance, you’ll find plenty of that on TEAM UP. On the CD, Flinn, who has recorded with folks like British bassist Tony Wren and New York guitarist Bruce Eisenbeil, makes West -- who in reality is pretty restrained -- sound like Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham.

Mostly confining himself to chain shakes, drum stick on ride cymbal scratches and bell pings, the percussionist barely rattles or ruffles his snares, toms and bass drum and even then only infrequently. Yet his cymbal splashes and other drum legerdemain manage to recurrently shape themselves into cascading organ-like tones, carillon chimes and reflective resonation. There may be some electronics involved as well, since at various points the unmistakable drone of sine wave distortions pulsates throughout.

Drake amplifies the ponticello runs he brings to the other session with pedal distortion, but here he also diffuses his picking power so that it meshes with tongue slaps and honks from Heenan and subtle ruffs from Flinn. There’s even a point on “A certain distance between individuals” where he creates Hawaiian guitar-like quivers that alternate with distracted finger picking. For his part the reedist supplies tongue slaps, bubbling raspberries and general mouth percussion that include Wild Mouse rides up the scale. Harsh, slurred string attacks are echoed by tough, bird twittering tones from the saxist. All this ends with a single percussion bop that could as easily come from a slammed foot as any percussion instrument.

Smears and scratches come to a head on the almost 15 minute “The oscillation of arc & circle”. Here Drake appears to be confining himself to the areas on his guitar along the neck and under the bridge, and Flinn sounds as if he’s using a whisk on aluminum take-out containers, not snares or toms. Following a short counterpoint of wiggled split tones, amplifier reverb gives the others more of an electric background on which to work. The saxman wheezes out airy partial tones that are mostly colored air, while a single tone oscillates every which way, without any aural identification as reed, string or stretched skin.

Following a tugboat whistle blow from Heenan’s contrabass clarinet, he double-tongues to a shrill pitch -- then sinks the equivalent distance in the bass clef. In response Flinn bangs and smashes his cymbal and the finale features twisting lines cutting through strident reed timbres.

Listening to the differences between the CDs, it may be difficult to be convinced of the overlap in personnel. Yet both offer an up-to-the-minute look at 21st century West Coast improv.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Bedouin: 1. Bugge 2. Tribology 3. Twang 4. Tread 5. Friends of the Vacuum 6. Tychai 1 and 2 7. Curly 8.

Personnel: Bedouin: Bruce Friedman (trumpet); Chris Heenan (alto saxophone, and bass clarinet); Jeremy Drake (amplified acoustic guitar); Scott Ray (tuba); Rich West (drums)

Track Listing: Team: 1. In the space of tactile familiarity 2. Defamiliarzing the table 3. Nearby objects leading others to recede 4. A certain distance between individuals 5. Inclusion of fragments from the real world 6. The oscillation of arc & circle 7. The things we find there are the things we reach for (an everyday world always grows impatient)

Personnel: Team: Chris Heenan (alto saxophone, bass clarinet and contrabass clarinet); Jeremy Drake (amplified acoustic guitar); Stephen Flinn (drums and percussion)

January 17, 2005

MOUNT WASHINGTON

Mount Washington
Reify Recordings RE 001

Creating a vehicle in which a larger group of musicians can participate in non-idiomatic improvisation has been one European conception that has only recently absorbed in North American.

Even so, most large improvising ensembles on this continent usually draw their organizational structure from Free Jazz. That’s why this CD, by a mixture of Europeans and Americans, is so memorable. Pooling memories and experience and without relying on call and response, vamps or raucous solos work, the eight players create something that’s firmly in the atmospheric EuroImprov heritage, yet adds something of its own to the seven instant compositions named for their duration.

Other differences arise from the ensemble’s shortage of horn players -- only three are represented -- and a corresponding preponderance of strings -- four, including an amplified, acoustic guitarist. Furthermore, German percussionist Martin Blume, who usually works in smaller groups with the likes of British violinist Phil Wachsmann -- also on hand here --is about as far away from a big beat, big band drummer as possible.

Slaps, clips and punches, not to mention stick and brush pressures, replace fixed rhythmic pulses in his vocabulary here. And no other player takes up the beat function. Perhaps the closest thing to ostinato would be the slurs and tongue slaps from the bass clarinet of Los Angeles resident Chris Heenan, who also plays alto saxophone here, and the bass clarinet and contrabass clarinet of Berlin’s Wolfgang Fuchs.

Fuchs, whose other instrument is sopranino saxophone, has recently been touring in trio formations. But the squeals, squeaks, and split tones he adds to MOUNT WASHINGTON, not to mention the aggregation’s size, are reminiscent of his larger band, the King Übü Orchestrü. Both Wachsmann, whose virtuosity with unconventional techniques and electronic extensions have allied him to improvisers like British saxophonist Evan Parker; and Vancouver, B.C.-based bassist Torsten Müller, whose ponticello bowing and light-fingered pizz set him apart from other time-keepers; are part of King Übü.

Harpist Anne LeBaron, whose impressive arpeggio command often makes it difficult to ascribe notes to her, the bassist or violinist, has worked in larger groups with pianist Muhal Richard Abrams and smaller bands with composer Earl Howard. Trombonist Tucker Dulin, now in San Diego, was involved in Masashi Harada’s Conduction Ensemble with Bostonians like trumpeter Greg Kelley. Like Kelley he plays up the soundsource coloration rather than the brassiness of his horn. Even guitarist Jeremy Drake, whose main experience is in small groups with other guitarists and percussionists, makes it a point here to fill an ensemble rather than soloist role.

The fourth tune matches the spiky scratch of the massed strings with expanded bouncing paradiddles from Blume plus curved ostinato and tongue slaps from the lower-pitched reeds. Miniscule slide position twists and turns occupy Dulin, while glissando rallies from the harp expand Müller’s pedal point and wood-rending tones.

Snaky, swirling tongue stopped slurs and backwards growls from the reeds answer Drake’s raucous guitar tones as does spiccato bowing from the bassist and fiddler on the second piece. Smack in the middle are harp reverberations that use a rhythm and harmony to sound like a Romanian cymbalum. As each distinctive tone is plucked, one of the reedists bisects it with tongue slaps and irregular vibrations. Fittingly the climax follows speedy bass lines, fingerpicking guitar fills and shrill reed tonguing that unrolls almost above human hearing range.

Quieter tracks may be concerned with alchemically transforming tongue bubbles and reed chirrups into near electronic oscillations or how col legno or uncomplicated arco bowing can produce unconnected, legato tones. But extensive exploration makes the nearly 13 minute fifth track stand out.

As trilling reeds expand sounds that could come from a packed aviary, linear movement arrives from the shuffle bowing bass, legato violin strokes and rivet cymbal echoes. Locomotive power from the consolidated strings dissolve into plinks, slashes and plucks as bird whistles and tongue slaps from the reeds and pedal point trombonism joins with the other instruments, building to a crescendo of undifferentiated pitches. Tremolo, irregular vibrations eventually give way to loggy arco violin lines, grainy horn smears and what could be someone whistling.

Although there are more wavering buzzes, expanding dissonant pitches, split tone squeals than mellow, legato tones on this CD, no one with an ear attuned to modern sounds should be frightened.

Instead he or she can hear how an afternoon, one-time-only interaction in a Mount Washington, Calif. sunken living room could produce a new, memorable way to hear and perform non-idiomatic improvisation.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. 5:37 2. 7:58 3. 10:25 4. 7:27 5. 12:41 6. 6:34 7. 9:43

Personnel: Tucker Dulin (trombone); Wolfgang Fuchs (sopranino saxophone, bass and contrabass clarinet); Chris Heenan (alto saxophone and bass clarinet); Jeremy Drake (amplified acoustic guitar); Philipp Wachsmann (violin, electronics); Anne LeBaron (harp); Torsten Müller (bass); Martin Blume (percussion)

July 26, 2004

JON MUELLER/BHOB RAINEY/JIM SCHOENECKER

Jon Mueller/Bhob Rainey/Jim Schoenecker
Crouton Music crou023

CHRIS FORSYTH/CHRIS HEENAN
Chris Forsyth/Chris Heenan
Reifyrecordings RE 002

Essays in microtonalism, these discs serve a dual purpose.

They show how American improvisers have gradually adopted glacially paced improv to their own needs -- taking clues from European free musicians who, it should be noted, were initially inspired by Yank Free Jazzers. Additionally, the duo and trio members involved in each CD demonstrate how dexterous command of their chosen instruments can produce memorable electro-acoustic sessions, whether electronics are involved or not.

Each band includes a saxophonist, but that’s where the similarities end.

Both discs also involve partners from different cities showing how far this sub-genre of improv is spreading. Old hand at this type of miniscule musical elaboration is Boston-based soprano saxophonist Bhob Rainey, who now works with European microtonalists like French saxist Michel Doneda and German inside pianist Andrea Neumann as well as in the nmperign duo with trumpeter Greg Kelley. His partners here are two Milwaukee, Wis.-based players, percussionist Jon Mueller, who has also worked with the bands Pele and cellist Matt Turner; and synthesizer player Jim Schoenecker who releases electronic music CDs under the name “pressboard”.

Besides the synthesizer textures he brings to the table, Mueller manages to create distinctive tones by amplifying his drums through a home stereo system. Yet the performers on the other disc manage to formulate similar tones with no electronica in sight except for a guitar amp. Granted, though, both players thrive on the cutting edge of this sort of faux electric improv. New York-based guitarist Chris Forsyth works with advanced performers like pianist Dan DeChellis and fellow guitarist Ernesto Diaz-Infante. Los Angeles-based Chris Heenan who plays alto saxophone, bass clarinet and contrabass clarinet here, has also worked with Diaz-Infante and further afield with German reedists Wolfgang Fuchs and Frank Gratkowski.

On the trio session one and two minute detonations of shattering percussiveness on the first and final tracks surround the meat of the action that takes place on two tracks of respectively nearly 26 and almost 20 minutes each.

Evolving from near silence, “[here teething moths have passed]” often sounds as if its reflecting those tiny varmints digging holes in perishable items. Featuring an underlying synthesizer hiss, cymbals are scraped and struck with a metal whisk, while burbling multiphonics roll from the saxophone, which then gradually become louder and throatier. It appears as if Rainey is blowing colored air through his gooseneck, as Mueller rotates items on the studio floor. Elsewhere, extended reed techniques range from a factory whistle-like shrill to honking Bronx cheers, duck-like quacks and squeaks and the panting of small, furry animals. Those mammals are evidentially unfettered in the studio, for cymbals and snares often sound as if they’re being scratched by the claws of the same beasts.

Ultimately, following pitch vibrations from the synth that could as easily come from a jackhammer or circular saw, plus sax tones created by blowing through the unattached mouthpiece, heightened sine waves cackles and crackles melt the trio’s individual textures back to stasis.

Similarly, “[holes]” is as much a record of the spaces between sounds as the notes themselves. Mueller appears to be searching for something within his trap set and hitting the odd percussion item by chance and without melody. Rainey contributes lightly breathed mouth noises and reed split tones that are dissonant, loud and finally split into pointillism. The percussionist propels his rim shots anywhere but the drumhead and an oscillating pulsation arise from Schoenecker’s reductionist energy transformation. It’s probably a testimony to all concerned that when the piece concludes with a very faint sound bubble, you’re not sure to which instrument you should ascribe it.

In New York a couple of months earlier there isn’t much question which tones arise from the reed arsenal and which from the guitar electronics during that CD’s six tracks. But both men are able to create enough references to non-specific intonations to move things along.

Heenan’s most distinctive timbres arise from the bottom-feeding contrabass clarinet, which he plays with the facility of Europeans like Fuchs and Swiss Hans Koch. But he never flaunts the overgrown horn’s tone on its own. Often moving from one horn to another within the pieces, snorting bellows mix with extensive tongue slaps, honks and general mouth percussion. One moment, as on “I begin to understand”, he reverberates shrill, treetop-high trills and the next minute is involved in gelatinous low-pitched growls. Meantime, Forsyth flat picks on the front of his strings then on the area beneath the bridge and uses a constant turn around as an ostinato.

Elsewhere, as on “I am not a technologist”, what sound like pealing bells and radio signal whistles arise from somewhere or someone. As the two players harmonically hit against one another’s tones like bumper cars in a carnival ride, Heenan produces legato alto lines as easily as sibilant, juicy reed gouts. Pulsating an undertone of snaps and thumps, the guitarist’s output include wood scrapes, circular hand movements and accompanying rumbles.

Then there’s the suggestion that both men are trying to channel waves from a recalcitrant radio by turning the dial every which way -- but only reaching static and sine waves. On top of this, the reedist sounds wounded animal cries in false registers, while the guitarist bangs on his axe’s front to create even more static.

Ironically, “I listen more” is the only time that Forsyth indulges in a burst of reverberating guitar feedback, but it’s only one trick pony among his stable that includes harsh, banjo-like flailing, sudden down stroked rhythmic patterns, and slurred fingering. Hennan’s riposte includes resonating growls from deep within his horn’s body tube, compressed honks and keening flutter tonguing.

Made in U.S.A. microtonalism, both these CDs will impress anyone interested in following one aspect of how homegrown improv is evolving.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Jon: 1. [shredded paper, but] 2. [here teething moths have passed] 3. [holes] 4. [to tattered to read]

Personnel: Jon: Bhob Rainey (soprano saxophone); Jon Mueller (snare drums, home stereo system); Jim Schoenecker (synthesizer)

Track Listing: Chris: 1. I am not a technologist 2. I listen 3. I ask questions 4. I listen more 5. I begin to understand 6. I like the way you use language

Personnel: Chris: Chris Heenan (alto saxophone, bass clarinet and contrabass clarinet); Chris Forsyth (guitar)

June 14, 2004