12.31.23, FTW

I generally dislike end of year listicles, although I'm using Max Kutner's to catch me up on releases  I missed this year. Looking back, I was surprised to note that I heard more new music that resonated with me in 2023 than I had in awhile -- possibly because I heard more live music I dig this year than most, and I try to buy stuff from artists when I see them. 

The real high points of my musical year were hearing the Dennis Gonzalez Legacy Band play my friend's music with energy and love; attending the Molten Plains Fest and feeling a sense of community centered around love of creative music; and sitting in with some youngsters from Southwest High School and remembering how much I love playing loud, standing up, with drums. But these days my life revolves more around things like sampling the recipes from Midnight Diner, being a cat bed, and walking the same streets every day (and seeing new stuff there all the time). Trying to make of my life a meditation. But yes, a lot of releases...not all of which I've reviewed previously. And not all included here because I'm lazy.

Joe McPhee, Tashi Dorji, Bill Orcutt -- A Mouth at Both Ends; Dave Dove, Joe McPhee -- Where's the Wine? McPhee is a direct link to '60s free jazz. After studying with Pauline Oliveros -- touchstone of the Houston free improv scene -- he was the first touring artist booked by Dave Dove, way back in 1998, and so was present at the creation of Nameless Sound. The first of these teams McPhee with a pair of exploratory guitarists. The second juxtaposes a rowdy house party session with a virtual trio of McPhee and a recording of Oliveros and himself from 1986. We were fortunate to have him visit our area in August and December, playing three sets -- all great, each different. Here's hoping he returns again in 2024.

Zoh Amba, Chris Corsano, Bill Orcutt -- The Flower School; Bill Orcutt -- Jump On It. Orcutt's a guitarist whose approach (on a four string guitar) recalls John Fahey's "American primitive" style, but with a foot in noise rock. I only caught up with him on last year's Music for Four Guitars and regrettably missed him at Rubber Gloves early this year. The first here teams him with his regular duo partner, drummer Chris Corsano, and Zoh Amba, the 23-year-old tenor sax phenom who's inspired wonder from the likes of John Zorn, William Parker, Tyshawn Sorey, Ra Kalam Bob Moses, and McPhee (who dueted with her at Molten Plains), and envy from a number of musos (like Ornette did when he hit NYC) as she works out who she's going to be. Second is an acoustic solo session of originals, a nice companion to 2017's eponymous electric collection of standards.

Jaap Blonk, Damon Smith, Ra Kalam Bob Moses -- Rune Kitchen; Wendy Eisenberg, Damon Smith, Stefan Gonzalez -- Balloon of Ruin. Now based in St. Louis, the estimable bassist Smith was once a linchpin in the Houston improv scene. He's seemingly played with everyone, although he has regular collaborators (the trios with guitarist Sandy Ewen and drummer Weasel Walter, and percussionist Lisa Cameron and violinist Alex Cunningham, being particularly noteworthy). On the first, he's joined by the Dutch sound artist Blonk and American drummer Moses (best known for his early association with Pat Metheny and a couple of outstanding Gramophone LPs as leader). The second documents the explosive trio with Eisenberg (my new favorite guitarist) and Gonzalez (who has a new co-op trio of his own as well as driving the Legacy Band) that opened Molten Plains Fest.

Sarah Ruth Alexander, Monte Espina -- Cuatro Estaciones; Sarah Ruth Alexander, Fellowship of the Arid Plain -- Alexander and Monte Espina's Ernesto Montiel curate the monthly Molten Plains concert series and the annual festival. As DJs on KUZU-FM, they carry the banner for creative music. Together, they released a double album's worth of pandemic lockdown electroacoustic improvisations in nature. On her own, Alexander released my favorite recording of hers since 2015's Words On the Wind: a collection of field recordings from the Panhandle farm that formed her consciousness. Plus, she and her partner Stephen Lucas -- who's recorded hundreds of shows, an impressive archive of North Texas creative music -- started their own label, Joan of Bark Productions, with the release of the aforementioned Eisenberg/Smith/Gonzalez cassette. With McPhee, she's my musician of the year.

Susan Alcorn Septeto del Sur, Canto -- A politically themed song cycle from the innovative pedal steel guitarist, combing Chilean folk and Nueva cancion with free improv, classical, and rock elements.

akaKatboy, Arga Warga -- Poppy punk from an old comrade, recorded in his home office while his family sleeps. "Dad rock" doesn't have to suck.

Kris Davis Diatom Ribbons -- Live at the Village Vanguard ; Angelica Sanchez Nonet -- Nighttime Creatures -- The Canadian pianist-composer releases her most fully realized statement yet, while her Pyroclastic label continues to release some of the finest new jazz and adjacent music of the day, including the first outing from her fellow ivory tickler's all star large ensemble. Toward the end of the year, Pyroclastic rolled out the Sculptingsound.org website, where the audio and video documents of six concerts by master improvisers interacting with Harry Bertoia's sounding sculptures are available to stream for free.

Satoko Fujii, Taiko Saito, Yuko Oshima -- Hibiki; Satoko Fujii, Torrent; Satoko Fujii, Otomo Yoshidide - Perpetual Motion -- Fujii's a pianist-composer known for her work with large ensembles, but equally effective in more intimate contexts, as heard in this triptych of releases: solo piano, duo with guitar, and trio with vibraphone and drums. A prolific artist, always satisfying. Just pick an instrumentation you like and dive in.

Patrick Shiroishi - i was too young to hear silence -- Japanese-American saxophonist I heard for the first time at Molten Plains. Has released an incredible 32 recordings in a year (making up for starting late?); I find this one -- solo saxophone in a resonant space -- a good introduction, but plan to hear a lot more.

Robert Gerosa - Faraday Bag Drive -- Throwback axe-slinger, steeped in '70s prog and jazz rock, essays a double CD's worth of jams with Brand X bassist Percy Jones.

Oxbow - Love's Holiday -- Powerfully emotional rock with choral and orchestral adds that are anything but sweetening.

May 2024 be kind to you and yours, and may the coalition fighting for democracy here hold together in what promises to be a fraught election season. 

FTW, 12.21.2023

After Stoogeaphilia's no-shit last stand (at the Sunshine Bar, 10.19.2019), my big amp sat in my hall closet gathering dust for four years. I tried to sell it a couple of times, without success, so my wife suggested that I donate it to Southwest Music & Sound Design, a great program at Southwest High School where students record and perform their original music. Program director Marco Petrilli had previously invited me to visit when I was more active musically, but I never made it down, for one reason or another. But when I offered my amp, he said they had a punk band who dug the Stooges in house, and invited me to bring the amp (and a guitar) to one of their Thursday evening rehearsals.

I was curious to see if I could still play loud standing up after three years of playing seated at a volume that wouldn't disturb the cat if he was sitting on my amp. During the day of my scheduled visit, I felt myself emptying my mind the way I used to before playing a show -- a habit I was surprised to discover wasn't extinct. I loaded the amp in the back of my car for the last time, along with the Strat (reliable stage guitar) and my Marshall Bluesbreaker (trying to wean myself off the fuzz-wah combo I came to rely on in the Stooge band), and headed for Southwest in the pouring rain.

When I got there, I was surprised to discover that the band in question turned out to be Lifeless Display, fronted by Jabez Vasquez whom I remember hanging around Magnolia Skate Shop back when I was working at Panther City Vinyl before the pandemic. I'd heard an early recording of theirs, which PCV co-owner Ted Stern had made at Cloudland Recording Studio, that impressed the old men at the record store by sounding something like Question Mark fronting the Pretty Things. They've progressed since then, of course -- guitarist Viggo Petrilli, the other half of the band's creative brain trust, told me they'd gone through a Velvet Underground/Modern Lovers phase during the pandemic, and their latest material is in more of a post-punk/shoegaze vein (think Cure, Joy Division, with astral flare guitar). 

The three-piece band -- with Esteban Rodriguez (bass) and Thomas Rodriguez (drums) providing the locomotion -- is a powerful, aggressive vehicle for strong melodies, with hooks, even (they've gotten some airplay on KXT-FM), and Jabez singing lyrics that bring to light some deep, personal struggles. (Marco records all their practices, when Jabez will just flow stream-of-consciousness over the jams, for later reference/development.) They have an album's worth of horror rock (emblematic track: "Crimson House") in the can, along with another in their newer style. If I had a couple grand in pocket, I'd put out a vinyl release on these guys.

The band was prepping for an upcoming house show. Like all up-and-comers, they have to hustle hard to create opportunities to play, but they graciously allowed me to sit in. I was delighted to find that I was able to jump into my old groove with an ice-breaking version of "Search and Destroy" (which I sabotaged by accidentally turning my guitar volume off; it'd been a minute), then managed to play along with much of their set (difficulty: trying to key off Viggo's open tunings; had to listen to the bass a lot). Then a jam-out on "TV Eye" and an attempt (only partially successful) to show them a tune from Mr. Sincerity, the aborted late-in-the-day Stoogeaphilia side project. Most fun I'd had playing in four years. In a weird way, it gives me hope.

"Sculpting Sound: Twelve Musicians Encounter Bertoia"

Still riding the tide of residual good feelings from Molten Plains Fest (the zenith of my listening year 2023), I'm reminded of the event that held a similar place in my esteem last year. It happened like this: In conjunction with the Nasher Sculpture Center's retrospective of the sculptor, iconic mid-century modern furniture designer, and sound artist Harry Bertoia, the estimable record producer and writer David Breskin curated Sculpting Sound: Twelve Musicians Encounter Bertoia, a series of concerts where duos of world-class creative musicians would interact with each other and Bertoia's sounding sculptures. 

So it was that on six successive nights, electric guitarists Nels Cline (Wilco) and Ben Monder (David Bowie, The Bad Plus), trumpeters Ambrose Akinmusire and Nate Wooley, saxophonists JD Allen and Ingrid Laubrock, acoustic instrumentalists Brandon Seabrook and Jen Shyu, drummers Marcus Gilmore and Dan Weiss, and pianists Kris Davis and Craig Taborn came to Dallas for an unprecedented, one-time event. All the concerts were filmed in their entirety by Quin Matthews and Daisy Avalos, with audio recorded by Breskin's longtime engineer of choice, Ron Saint Germain. The resulting films, edited by filmmaker Frank Heath, will be available to stream for free here beginning on the Winter Solstice, December 21.

No spoilers here; I witnessed half of the performances, and have since viewed the other three on video. I'll only say that it was a transcendent event. The staging and lighting enhanced the otherworldly sound of Bertoia's "Sonambients" and the musicians' spontaneous inventions. The Sculpting Sound shows were the first live performances I'd witnessed since the onset of the pandemic, and part of my response to them was the overwhelming feeling, after a long hiatus, of being in a large group of people while musical communication was taking place. 

The audiovisual documentation at Sculptingsound.org brings you as close as possible to experiencing the concerts' total sensory environment. In addition, there's a new 30-minute "making of" documentary on the concerts; historical footage of Bertoia and his work, including a 1971 interview with the artist; and an interview I conducted with Breskin for the Nasher's magazine, detailing his vision and process for curating the event. Worthwhile viewing for art lovers and creative music enthusiasts alike.

The art of the trio: Ernesto Diaz-Infante, Satoko Fujii, Zoh Amba, Wendy Eisenberg

Recently I was chatting with a musician friend about the efficacy of the trio as an improvising ensemble. He started out mentioning Sandy Ewen-Damon Smith-Weasel Walter and Harriet Tubman by way of example, then added Motian-Frisell-Lovano and Gateway. Because I have a few more rings around my trunk than my friend does, I'd also include the original Tony Williams Lifetime, Band of Gypsys, and even Cream. Not to mention Ornette and Sonny Rollins's trios. 

But what is it about the trio that makes it such a good vehicle for improvisation? Maybe it's the combination of interacting voices in a format where it's easy to hear and distinguish between them. And in today's economy, it's more cost-effective to tour a smaller unit; first-time collaborations are a staple of the improv world.

I first became aware of the Bay Area-based guitarist-composer Ernesto Diaz-Infante through his work with Texas percussionist Lisa Cameron, but he's done lots of other work as well -- over 40 recordings so far -- including his newest, Puzzle. On this digital-only release, for the Floridian Muteant Sounds label, recorded in Paris last June, Diaz-Infante and his collaborators -- drummer Marcio Gibson and electric guitarist Michel Kristof -- create extreme close-up soundscapes based on the colors and textures of acoustic and electric strings being bowed, scraped, muted and plucked, hammered and slid on, and sprung-rhythm drum clatter. Their sonic stew can have a ritual, ceremonial stateliness, storm like a turbulent ocean, or reverberate with echolalic disorientation. One of the more intriguing mind-movies I've heard lately. 

Pianist Satoko Fujii is no stranger to the trio format, but her new album Hibiki, on Strasbourg-based Jazzdor, is the debut release by a new project, Trio San (kind of redundant, as san means "three" in Japanese), a collaboration with Japanese musicians based in France and Germany. Fujii had been playing in a duo called Futari ("two people") with vibraphonist Taiko Saito since 2019. Saito, in turn, had been playing in a duo with drummer Yuko Oshima, and suggested that the three join forces. 

Trio San is a collective, with all three members writing material. A planned European tour had to be postponed until 2022 due to Covid, and the musicians had only one rehearsal before their first concert. Hibiki was recorded in Berlin at the third of four performances on the tour. This is a percussive music, based on the sound of hammers on keys, mallets on bars, and sticks on skins and cymbals. The sound is alternately quiet and ruminative, lyrical and flowing, thunderous and ecstatic. Oshima's title track, which opens the set, and Fujii's "Yozakura" showcase the band's dynamic range most advantageously.

In the couple of years since her arrival in the Big Apple, the youthful Tennessee saxophone prodigy Zoh Amba has recorded with heavyweights like John Zorn, William Parker, and Tyshawn Sorey. While Bhakti, for Mahakala Music, best captures the power and luminous spirituality of her live performances (which one observer compared to "hearing Albert Ayler in the body of Scout Finch"), my favorite remains O, Sun for Zorn's Tzadik label (home to some of my favorite sides by Wendy Eisenberg, Petra Haden, and Mary Halvorson as well as Amba), which to these feedback-scorched ears just works better as a record with its shorter, more digestible pieces.

Amba's latest, The Flower School, brings her together with noise-rocker turned electric "American primitive" guitarist Bill Orcutt, on his Palilalia label. The fulcrum in this trio is punk-jazz drummer Chris Corsano, a frequent duo partner of Orcutt's who'd just finished a tour with Amba when The Flower School was recorded. Orcutt does a lot of sympathetic droning here; his recent solo acoustic Jump On It is a better place to hear more of what he brought to Rubber Gloves back in 2022. Amba moves the big column of air, as she's wont to do, and there's plenty of light and shade in these proceedings as well. She even plays acoustic guitar to Orcutt's electric on a gentle rustic pastoral interlude at the end of the first side. Until Zoh comes back to Texas, this is where I'll go to hear her. Her music's a healing balm.

Guitarist-songwriter-singer Wendy Eisenberg does so many things so well that one can imagine her having "the Neil Young problem": Folks who dig her "song" albums like Time Machine, Auto, and Bent Circle might show up for one of her stirring instrumental blowouts like the one that kicked the door open for Molten Plains Fest in Denton last week, and wind up running from the room with their hands over their ears like all the Harvest fans did when Old Neil had Sonic Youth open for him back in the '90s. 

Fans of ferocious skronk, and those of catholic taste, now have Balloon of Ruin -- a cassette on Stephen Lucas and Sarah Ruth Alexander's new imprint Joan of Bark Productions -- to appreciate. Balloon of Ruin is nothing less than the studio representation of the unit that opened Molten Plains. And a muscular, brawling beast of a session it is. Eisenberg churns up a whirlwind of sound, drummer Stefan Gonzalez is a freewheeling dynamo, and the aforementioned bassist Damon Smith -- catalyst for so much of worth on the current improv landscape -- provides the thunder to their lightning. Bold, bracing stuff, and an auspicious beginning for Joan of Bark.

Denton, 12.9.2023

Second day of Molten Plains fest, and the opening set established the tone: a series of dreams, a night of surprises. Mattie and Melanie Little Smith used treated vocals, echo, delay, a kid's record player, and a collection of percussion and small instruments to conjure a haunting, spectral soundscape. An engaging set, but the temperature was dropping and the Rubber Room door was open to the adjacent smoking area, so as soon as they finished, I hurried to the bar for a coffee. 

I wasn't able to get any pics of Colin Andrew Sheffield due to the low light in the main room, but his orchestral audio collage and accompanying visuals evoked a European art film. It felt strange to experience such in the same room where I once stood 15 feet in front of Michio Kurihara's chained Twins (with Boris), when I was but a callow lad of 51.

Next up was the trio of Los Angeles-based altoist Patrick Shiroishi -- a grandchild of the WW2 internment camps -- along with double bass titans Aaron Gonzalez and Damon Smith. Shiroishi listened intently and timed his entrances well, giving the bassists time to find a groove while demonstrating their respective strengths, with Aaron occasionally vocalizing in a language that hasn't been invented yet. Their sounds were well balanced (kudos to Aubrey the sound tech). Shiroishi extemporised a gently lyrical close.

I'd been eagerly anticipating the guitar-heavy set by Wendy Eisenberg (Jazzmaster and pedals), Sandy Ewen (prepared guitar and found objects), and Sarah Ruth Alexander (skateboard guitar -- built by Stephen Lucas, using a deck designed by Nevada Hill -- plus vocals and Kaoss pad), brought up to a quartet by Rebecca Novak on cornet and small instruments. The confluence of elements made for a nicely intense conversation. I only wish Novak had been on mic more; her cornet was fine when audible. Just part of the fun of live performance. There followed a brief intermission while the stage was reset.

Any time I see something I don't understand but I know it's real, I call it magic. Percussionist Sean Meehan's set falls in that category. Meehan set up his tools -- a single snare drum, some cymbals, a couple of forks and what looked like a barbecue skewer -- away from the stage, in the middle of the audience, "because I like to get close." He began by drawing the fork tines across the drumhead to create sounds that one might have thought were electronically generated. Then he took each of his cymbals in turn and, setting them upside down on top of the drum, placed one end of the skewer against the surface of the cymbal and slowly and repeatedly ran his hands down its surface. 

The resulting steady tone sometimes swelled in volume, sometimes split to add another tone, and sustained as long as Meehan continued the motion. His only other action was to open or close the drum's snares. Someone (who might have been Louise Fristensky) said he had rosin on his hands, which would make sense; not having to grip hard would give the wood more ability to vibrate. When I asked Meehan how it worked, he said, "I don't know, but it depends a lot on the room I'm in." The most amazing thing about his performance, however, was the silence and attention of the audience. A moment of focus and clarity.

Perhaps the weekend's most astonishing performer was Mexico City-based extreme vocalist Carmina Escobar, whose sound world has included the classical canon (whose male, European focus she rejects), black metal (she fronted an ensemble while studying at CalArts), and body resonance work (Sonic Massage). In a trio with Dave Dove on trombone and Joe McPhee on tenor, she employed gasps, shrieks, guttural noises, and glossolalia, along with the weekend's best demonstration of microphone technique. After last night's bravura performance with Zoh Amba, tonight's McPhee was a paragon of deep listening and empathetic response. A stunning set that even a passing train and racing hotrods couldn't derail.

As Aaron Gonzalez observed, the most "straight ahead jazz" moment of the weekend was provided by Trio Glossia, a new (their second gig) unit led by Aaron's sibling, Stefan Gonzalez (vibraphone, drums), with Joshua Miller on tenor sax and drums, and Matthew Frerck on bass. 

I first encountered Joshua playing drums with the Fort Worth psychedelic rock outfit Same Brain. At an outdoor event at Lola's (RIP) a few years back, I remember seeing Same Brain and telling Frank Cervantez, "These guys would be perfect to hear in a muddy field in England back in '71 if we were tripping balls." Meant it. I discovered Joshua had taken up sax when I saw him in a duo with Sarah Ruth Alexander at the Grackle Gallery last year. Not long after that, I was going to a Sounds Modern show at Fort Worth's Modern Art Museum when I heard someone blowing sax inside Richard Serra's Vortex, the giant sculpture outside the museum. It was Joshua.

The three musicians have been writing tunes and getting accustomed to playing together. Stefan is a hard-swinging dynamo, and it's great to hear him on vibes, which he played a little in Yells At Eels with Aaron and their father Dennis (RIP), and a lot more with The Young Mothers. Joshua's jazz trap chops are developing, but his relentless energy and enthusiasm give the music a lift. On tenor, he's blowing energy music like it was 1967 again (one of this tunes is a dedication to Joe McPhee). Matthew Frerck is the glue that holds them together, playing inventive transitional solos while the others switch between instruments. A friend's teenage nephew attended last night's concert. When I asked what his favorite performance was, he said without hesitation, "The one with the xylophone." I look forward to watching Trio Glossia grow together.

After some closing remarks from Ernesto Monteil and Sarah Ruth Alexander -- who, together with sound tech Aubrey, recordist Stephen Lucas, and the Rubber Gloves staff, made this magical weekend happen -- the grand finale was provided by Austin drone rockers Water Damage (motto: "Maximum Repetition Minimum Deviation;" sort of a grungier version of La Monte Young's Theater of Eternal Music), augmented by Wendy Eisenberg and Jonathan F. Horne on guitars, Patrick Shiroishi on sax, and Joshua Miller on drums. 

I know I'm going to be high from this wish fulfillment event for weeks. A few observations:

1) Live music beats recorded music every time.

2) Joe McPhee is a national treasure. Bless him. Zoh Amba is a worthy acolyte, and farther along on her quest than I thought. (That's what happens when you only know an artist from recordings -- you're always a year behind. At least.)

3) Wendy Eisenberg is my new favorite guitarist. I'm a Hendrix-era dinosaur, so their vocabulary and syntax are somewhat alien to me, but Eisenberg's improv approach is the freshest thing I've heard in years. Listening to their The Machinic Unconscious on Tzadik while typing this confirmed it. Eisenberg even found interesting rhythmic/melodic/textural things to play against Water Damage's repetition. And that's not all they can do, either.

4) Sean Meehan and Carmina Escobar are magicians.

5) I need to hear more of Patrick Shiroishi and Sandy Ewen.

6) Trio Glossia is the North Texas band to watch.

7) A mighty fine time was had by one and all. Can't wait till next year's fest!

Denton, 12.8.2023

On the hook to make opening remarks for the first night of Molten Plains Fest at Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios, I was determined not to exceed my allotted time the way I had at the Dennis Gonzalez Legacy Band show earlier in year. I was starting late and there was a tight schedule to keep, so I edited myself on the fly and met the requirement. 

The trio of Wendy Eisenberg (guitar), Stefan Gonzalez (drums), and Damon Smith (bass) got right to it, exploding out of the gate in pure energy rush and then settling into a set replete with textural and dynamic shifts. Eisenberg does a lot of things well -- their Brazilian-inflected songcraft is particularly noteworthy -- but I have never seen anyone play noise guitar with such an elegant attack and fluid economy of motion, scattering shards of dissonance and wringing chiming harmonics from the warm-toned Jazzmaster with brutal percussive force. 

Stefan Gonzalez, whom I'm accustomed to seeing toss off astonishing fills with casual nonchalance, has attained a new level of rhythmic fluency, working his way around the kit with precisely controlled violence, then shifting to vibraphone to inject the music with another melodic and textural element. There isn't a stronger bassist than Damon Smith anywhere, whether he's playing pile-driver pizzicato -- at one point embarking on a light-speed walk like a berserk bebopper -- applying extended techniques, or bowing in a manner that can be fierce or lyrical. I look forward to hearing this trio's new cassette, the premiere release on Sarah Ruth Alexander and recordist extraordinare Stephen Lucas's Joan of Bark label.

The action shifted to the Rubber Room (formerly known as the Speakeasy), adjacent to the outdoor smoking area (what Stooges guitarist Ron Ashton referred to as "the second class citizens' area) for a set of sound art and electroacoustic improvisation from Kory Reeder, Louise Fristensky, and Ernesto Montiel. Using stand-up bass, an electric guitar, and arrays of electronics, this trio conjured a dark, heavy ambience, filled with foreboding, punctuated by whale song-sounds and occasional shuddering dissonance. A head-clearing "palate cleanser" after the event-rich set that preceded it.

 

The evening's most sublime music came from the duo of Joe McPhee and Zoh Amba. The two tenorists declined the opportunity to do a Sonny Rollins-esque playing walk-on, but quickly got on with the business of exploring the depth and breadth of sounds available from the horn. Amba almost seemed like a different musician from the previous evening's explosive energy orgy; she shaped her lines with greater care and played with a more pensive sound (except for an episode near the end of the set when she cut loose and roared). 

McPhee displayed his total command of the instrument, and the two built pieces from short, repeating phrases that they expanded and played in counterpoint, exploring all the available sounds, from tapping on the pads and blowing over the reed to overblowing and using multiphonics, infusing their dialogue with shades of lyricism and blues feeling. At times, McPhee vocalized along with his horn, and once recited a variation on "Even a man who's pure of heart and says his prayers at night / Can become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the moon shines clear and bright." Amba was playing a quiet passage when a passing train interjected its sound, and McPhee called the set down with the simple observation, "Train." (Or was it "Trane?")

Later, when I buttonholed McPhee in the bar and observed that much of their set sounded as though it had been worked out in advance, he shook his head and said, "We never talked about music. That all just happened on the stage." When I noted that at one point, he'd interjected a snippet of Ellingtonia ("Come Sunday"), he shook his head again. "That was her," he said. I began to realize that perhaps Zoh Amba's study of the tradition has extended past the '60s freedom icons that she gets compared to. Perhaps the Ayler I thought I was hearing in her wide vibrato might be...Ben Webster? "And I'm 60 years older than her!" McPhee marveled. The cherished elder and touchstone paid tribute to his worthy acolyte. I'd love to hear this facet of her playing documented on record. Tonight, McPhee performs again in a trio with trombonist Dave Dove (who first booked McPhee to play in Houston back in January 1998) and vocalist Carmina Escobar. 

While in the bar, I ran into James Talambas, whom I remember jumping off the stage at the Wreck Room (RIP) when he was playing percussion in The Theater Fire (nearly 20 years ago!) and banging on what seemed like every object in the room; running sound at the Firehouse Gallery (also RIP) on Meadowbrook Drive in Fort Worth; and doing an improv performance with a visual artist when Herb Levy presented an experimental music fest at what's now the Fort Worth Community Arts Center. These days, James is running an art gallery, New Media Contemporary, in Dallas's Exposition Park (830 Exposition Ave, Ste 102). The gallery has a showing of Daniel Weintraub's film Deep Listening: The Story of Pauline Oliveros, including a live conversation with the director, scheduled for 6:30pm on Saturday, January 27.

[Read the exciting conclusion here.]

Oak Cliff, 12.7.2023

The pre-festival concert for the second Molten Plains Fest took place at The Wild Detectives in Oak Cliff. The Tennessee tenor sax phenomenon Zoh Amba made her Texas debut in a trio with Oak Cliff's own "Free Jazz Is Thrash, Asshole" siblings, Aaron and Stefan Gonzalez. 

Since she hit New York a couple of years ago, Amba has played with a veritable Who's Who of "out" jazz eminences -- John Zorn, William Parker, Ra Kalam Bob Moses, and Tyshawn Sorey, to name but a few. She recently concluded a tour with drummer Chris Corsano by cutting a record in San Francisco with guitarist Bill Orcutt. Tonight, she'll duet with Joe McPhee, a treasured elder and touchstone of the music who has the living memory of Ayler, Coleman, and Coltrane, and was in the house scoping out Zoh's set.

Getting a late start, Amba exploded out of the gate with the glossolalia of a backwoods preacher, moving a big column of air with a wide vibrato that recalled  Ayler's soul cry and the explosiveness of Pharaoh Sanders on Trane's "Meditations." The rhythm section matched her fire, Stefan inhabiting a world of sprung rhythm with the same force with which he used to swing Yells At Eels. Aaron appeared to be recovering well from back surgery, matching his sibling's fury with pizzicato flurries and slides, responding to Amba's more ruminative moments with arco harmonics. The dialogue between the three ebbed and flowed, riding an omnipresent undercurrent of volcanic energy. It was a stirring exorcism with a strong spiritual feeling.

Opening set featured a guitar duo of Brooklyn-based Sandy Ewen, a specialist in extended techniques, and Jonathan F. Horne, Stefan's bandmate in The Young Mothers and Texas Butt Biters. Ewen employs a collection of found objects -- mostly metal items of various textures -- on her semihollow electric through a bi-amp system (Acoustic and Roland Jazz Chorus) regulated with a pedal. This kind of performance is best appreciated in person, when you can observe the players' physicality. 

The sounds Ewen produced were like seismic events -- tectonic plates shifting, glaciers fragmenting. Horne responded with nervous energy, tapping on the neck, bowing the strings, riding his pedals and the volume controls on his Mosrite (Nokie Edwards and Fred "Sonic" Smith's signature axe). At one point, Ewen coaxed long sustaining tones -- by friction or harmonic feedback, I couldn't tell -- from her instrument while Horne manipulated a miniature kalimba and a wind-up music box against his strings. Ewen will perform in a trio with Sarah Ruth Alexander and Wendy Eisenberg on Saturday.

The fest, at Rubber Gloves in Denton, will feature five sets tonight and eight Saturday (including a second performance by McPhee, with vocalist Carmina Escobar and trombonist Dave Dove, as well as the second performance ever by Stefan Gonzalez's new outfit, Trio Glossia). But after Thursday night, this weekend is already the crown jewel in my listening year.