Satoko Fujii

Satoko Fujii and Otomo Yoshihide
Perpetual Motion
Ayler Records Ayl CD-175

Like many of her numerous earlier sessions, you’d be hard pressed to find the connection between Japanese pianist Satoko Fujii’s 100th and 101st CDs besides her inventive playing. On Hyaku One Hundred Dreams Fujii gathered an all-star, mostly New York-centred nonet to interpret her composition of the same name. In contrast Perpetual Motion is a first-time meeting between Fujii and another Japanese polymath, guitarist Otomo Yoshihide for a four-part improvisation.

Based on instrumental duality during the first disc, the pianist’s initial hushed elaboration in the form of single keyboard notes and single inner piano string strums is underlined by crackling and buzzing oscillations from Ikue Mori’s electronics. Fujii cascades and displays dynamic feints, stops and swift asides, then withdraws for calculated comping as interpretations and elaborations emanate from the matched brass: Wadada Leo Smith and Natsuki Tamura’s trumpets; woodwinds: Ingrid Laubrock’s tenor saxophone and Sara Schoenbeck’s bassoon; percussion: Chris Corsano and Tom Rainey’s drum sets; and strings: Brandon Lopez’ double bass. Before reaching a crescendo of horn vamps plus cymbal chings and drum press rolls on “Part One”, mid-range and nasal bassoon growls set up the next section. Advancing steadily northwards, one or the other trumpeter blasts out yowling smears, responsive grace notes, plunger explorations, internal scoops and raspberries until Lopez’s sul ponticello strokes swell from tempered tones to spiccato and prestissimo that usher in Laubrock’s split-tone flutters and squeals, matched with Schoenbeck’s burbles. These responses keep the sequence horizontal and underlined by percussion ratamacues and paradiddles until a mid-section explosion into triplet snarls from one trumpeter and near-Arcadian fluidity from the other. At the same time voltage wriggles and crackling from Mori’s programming creates a mechanized contrapuntal challenge to the near-vocalized, half-valve smears of the brass players as well as reed honks and slurs.

Despite further dial twisting, reflux and fizz on Mori’s part, the strength of the evolving program prevents the narrative from ignoring the equally powerful acoustic thrust. Half-way through “Part Three”, for instance, mariachi-like balanced trumpet accents meet harmonized reed cadences and a drum groove in such a way that the subsequent motif focuses on a swing lilt from the other players as the trumpeters coloring their responses with bent notes, body tube squawks and whines. Moderated swing is also emphasized during the final sequence with drum rumbles, Harmon-muted brass harmonizes and straight-line bassoon trills. Eventually Fujii’s disciplined keyboard asides return to the prominence they had on “Part One”. Moving at an andante pace, vibrating trumpet triplets, mid-range saxophone scoops and drum pounding finally join her for a few false climaxes until a gathering of polyphonic and polyrhythmic tones lead to an inflating crescendo.

Unlike the near-compositional shaping of Hyaku One Hundred Dreams, Perpetual Motion is just that. It’s a timbral exercise from Fujii and Yoshihide to collate as many aleatoric or improvised elements as they can. The object of pure improvisation, ideally association results from experiment and chance as much as skill.. With effects pedals and connected gizmos at a minimum, the guitarist plinks, plucks and buzzes tones from his strings, only occasionally introducing Rock-like flanges and knob-twisting amplifications. For her part, the pianist initially confines herself to hushed keyboard click and internal string strums. But as this live duet evolves logical symmetry is expressed, often with tension-release. Should the two reach balladic interface, as on “Perpetual Motion II”, then thicker strains with pedal point key pressure and vibrating guitar string strokes intensify the exposition until Yoshihide reaches full arena-Rock showiness. Like a Chinese spy balloon that stance is quickly punctured with singular keyboard jabs, whose calming patterns rights the narrative. Still this regularized piano expression lasts only as long as it takes the guitarist to use vibrating amp drones so that Fujii ends up answering his twangs with near boogie piano and hard keyboard echoes. Both tough and tender pivots are expressed on the concluding “Perpetual Motion IV”. Linear piano patterns move from single note emphasis to full keyboard pounding accompanied by implements rolling on the internal strings. Simultaneously the guitarist too moves from single notes to pointed pressure that has him vibrating the strings into strident and whistling hums. Finally low pitches from both meet and fade.

Satoko Fujii seems to put out CDs with the regularity that some people bring to exercise routines or proper nutrition. If she keeps releasing ones that reach the high standards of these two, reaching the 200 plus mark may be a proper and appreciative goal.

–Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Hyaku: 1. One Hundred Dreams. Part One 2. One Hundred Dreams. Part Two 3. One Hundred Dreams. Part Three 4. One Hundred Dreams. Part Four 5. One Hundred Dreams. Part Five

Personnel: Hyaku: Wadada Leo Smith, Natsuki Tamura (trumpet); Ingrid Laubrock (tenor saxophone); Sara Schoenbeck (bassoon); Satoko Fujii (piano); Brandon Lopez (bass); Chris Corsano, Tom Rainey (drums); Ikue Mori (electronics)

Track Listing: Perpetual: 1. Perpetual Motion I 2. Perpetual Motion II 3. Perpetual Motion III 4. Perpetual Motion IV

Personnel: Perpetual: Satoko Fujii (piano) and Otomo Yoshihide (guitar)