Satoko Fujii's Quartet's "Burning Wick"

Well, shame on me. In my colossal arrogance, I posted my end of year listicle early, certain that I wouldn't hear anything in December to sway me from my choices, and I'm having to walk it back before we're even done with November. You never see what's around the corner.

What caught my ear, when I spun it late at night a couple of days ago, was Burning Wick, a November 21 release from a quartet led by the uber prolific pianist Satoko Fujii on her own Libra label. It's the ninth album from this unit, which also includes Fujii's husband, trumpeter Natsuki Tamura, bassist Takeharu Hayakawa, and drummer Tatsuya Yoshida. Fujii didn't begin recording until her 40s, but has rapidly made up for lost time, with over 100 releases to her name as a solo performer and leading both large and small ensembles. Tamura is her melodic foil and a leader in his own right. Hayakawa's a virtuoso on both electric and (on "Three Days Later" here) acoustic axes. 

The joker in this deck is Yoshida, a frequent collaborator of Fujii's who's best known for the whirlwind energy of his performances with his own bands Ruins and Kyoenjihyakkei. There's YouTube video of him playing in a trio with Japanese psychedelic noise overlords Keiji Haino and Makoto Kawabata that used to make my head spin even when I was deep into Japanoise outfits like High Rise and Mainliner. What's notable here is the discipline and focus Yoshida brings to his playing, even when there are moments of outre weirdness like the vocal interludes on "Walking Through the Border Town," a 12-minute track that neatly showcases all of this band's strengths, and "Mountain Gnome," with its thunderous bass-and-drums-of-doom interlude.

Indeed, Burning Wick contains some of Fujii's finest writing and arranging to date, and she uses all the tools in her tonal and textural palette to their best advantage. The music here is notable for its spareness and use of space, which brings all the elements into brilliant relief. At different times, all the players are heard in solo and duet episodes, as well as in full ensemble flight. The confluence of rock and jazz influences is particularly piquant; imagine if Keith Tippett had stuck around for the '73-'75 "flying brick wall" King Crimson, or if Keith Jarrett's American quartet had just flat out rocked. Another standout track is "Neverending Summer," with its insane stop-and-start passages that punctuate careening unaccompanied solos from each musician. All in all, Burning Wick just might be my favorite Satoko Fujii record, and, with Trio of Bloom, one of my albums of 2025. So there.

Denton, 11.19.2025

For this month's Joan of Bark Presents at Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios, curator Sarah Ruth Alexander added a new wrinkle, driven by her love of poetry (dating back to childhood exposure to Carl Sandberg's "Fog" -- a fave of mine back when too). In between the musical performances, this evening's program featured five readers declaiming poetry (by others, or their own) -- an inspired choice that changed the rhythm and flow of the evening in a good way, I think. 

Composer Kory Reeder read a poem from a favorite collection, then Sarah Ruth and Melanie Little Smith played an improvised set with a graceful ebb and flow and an elegiac tone, starting with a somber theme on dual harmoniums. The musicians donned veils and faced away from the audience as they moved through episodes of electronically sampled vocals, electronic effects and percussion, wood flutes and vocal interjections that floated on the music.

At one point, Smith repeated a plaintive "Where are you?" which Alexander countered with screams before they returned to the harmonium theme. Because I live under a rock in Fort Worth, it was only later that I learned that Smith's husband and collaborator Des Smith -- their mural work adorns several locations in Denton -- passed in August. That knowledge made Suzanne Terry's reading of an original poem about surviving cancer (which followed Smith and Alexander's set) particularly poignant. Smith is an artist of singular intelligence who is unafraid to express powerful emotions onstage. 

Veronica Anne Salinas is a deep listener and sound artist currently based in Marfa, where she's the Chinati Foundation's 2025 Land Management Fellow, and her performance incorporated field recordings, sound processing, and the acoustics of the greatly improved Rubber Room to create an immersive environment that was conducive to slow breathing and contemplation. The soundscape she created evoked the power of winds or oceans, unfolding slowly until she introduced an element of pulse, culminating in a cleansing crescendo. A compelling and dynamic experience that also lowered my blood pressure. 

Featured reader Tammy Melody Gomez gave a performance that combined skillfully crafted imagery with forceful delivery, drawing on a large back catalog of material to create a statement that was thoroughly of the moment, emotive and cathartic, her cadence and inflection driving with the force of a runaway locomotive (or a punk band on a particularly good night). Gomez hosts Second Sunday Spoken Word at Fort Worth's Arts Fifth Avenue and in that setting, where she creates a welcoming space for writers to present work and receive feedback, her own performances can be somewhat muted. Here, it was invigorating to hear her in full flight, feeding on the energy from an appreciative crowd as she performed her verbal exorcism. 

I missed the first performance by Tammy's Bandinha at the Grackle Art Gallery in Fort Worth, but I was fascinated by the lineup. Violinist Tamara Cauble Brown's CV includes stints with Telegraph Canyon, Polyphonic Spree, and Clint Niosi, but I never really envisioned her as a free improviser. Likewise pianist-vocalist Paul Slavens, whose own work, solo and with Ten Hands, is primarily geared toward songcraft (although he's acquitted himself well in improv lottery situations I've witnessed). 

On the other hand, bassist Aaron Gonzalez (who'd earlier intoned some of his own poetry, marked by his characteristic quirkily humorous wordplay, and a heartfelt tribute to Daron Beck) brought a breadth and depth of improv experience to the table, and helped ground and channel the group's flow. Drummer Eddie Dunlap, veteran of Master Cylinder, Mondo Drummers, years in the Jubilee Theatre pit band, Rage Out Arkestra, and now Hijazz Ensemble, is a special musician who elevates any ensemble he performs with. 

Together, the four are clearly feeling their way, but everyone involved is listening and leaving space, responding to what the others play and not trying to bogart the conversation. The first couple of numbers felt tentative, but the players had the discernment to end them at a sensible point, rather than meandering. A burst of vocal gibberish from Gonzalez prompted a Dada-esque explosion, with vocal hijinks all around. The last piece was the best, replete with hints of ideas to be developed in the future. There's a freshness to this musical conversation that brims with promise. I look forward to hearing how it develops.

That left it for your humble chronicler o' events to close things out with some Fort Worth bragging and some new scrawl I penned for Sarah Ruth when she extended the invitation. This year's Joan of Bark Fest takes place on Saturday, December 13, and includes a sound walk along with a stacked bill. Don't you dare miss it.

End of year listicle: 2025

I find it ironic that in a year in which I vowed to forego writing in favor of activism (an intention I have, for the most part, honored), I was asked to participate in the Downbeat Critics' Poll -- an indication, I suppose, that with the ranks of "legit" critics being thinned by the morbidity of legacy daily and weekly rags, they're forced to reach down into the muck and mire of the blogosphere to shore up their ranks. I got a nice T-shirt, and because DB (like NYC) uses ranked choice voting, not all of my votes were statistically insignificant. This is going to be a quick one, because I have other activist and musician shit to attend to, having returned to the boards against all odds in both solo acoustic (Stashdauber/Folknik) and electric trio (STC) guises. You never know what's around the corner. 

I find it heartening that I saw six out of ten acts represented here live. Other live things I like: 1) The return to performance of Gregg Prickett's Monks of Saturnalia, and the prospect of a release from them. 2) The inception of a fledgling new music outfit, Denton's Minerva Contemporary Ensemble. 3) The inclusion on a regular basis of dancers in experimental and new music performances. 4) The continuation of adventurous booking policies at Fort Worth's Grackle Art Gallery, Dallas' Full City Rooster, The Wild Detectives, New Media Contemporary, and Texas Theatre, and Denton's Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios. 

Finally, remember, kids: Your freedom comes with responsibility attached. Accept it, embrace it, live it. So there.

1) Craig Taborn/Nels Cline/Marcus Gilmore -- Trio of Bloom (Pyroclastic). Three top notch improvising composers join forces to remind me of everything I loved about '70s fusion. Produced by David Breskin, of course.

2) Richard Dawson -- End of the Middle (Weird World). Geordie singer-songwriter whose every song is like a Mike Leigh film in miniature. This might be my favorite album of his, although Peasant and 2020 continue to signify.

3) Patricia Brennan -- Of Near and Far (Pyroclastic). The great new voice on her axe (vibraphone) continues to expand her compositional vision along with the size of her ensemble. 

4) Darrifourcq Hermia Ceccaldi -- Unicorn and Flexibility (Hector). French trio of saxophone-cello-bass and you can tell it's the drummer's band. Prog rock meets Euro improv and kicks much ass.

5) Hemphill Stringtet -- Plays the Music of Julius Hemphill (Out of Your Head). All-star unit helmed by Sam Bardfeld and Tomeka Reid reimagines the master of multi-horn polyphony's works (including a Mingus tribute) for strings.

6) Solan Dorr -- Vol. 1: Pale Face, Pale Moon and Vol. 2: Pattern and Shadows (Bandcamp). Led by Debussy-via-Keith Jarrett channeling polymath Taylor Collins, two generous length (82 and 76 minutes, respectively) digital volumes bring intelligent psychedelia into the 21st century.

7) Senso di Voce -- Through Itself (Sonic Transmissions). Two gifted improvisers explore mystical and philosophical concepts through composed chamber music and live extemporizations.

8) Sandy Ewen -- Little Tour Down to Texas and Back (scatter/Archive). A truly singular voice on guitar, influenced by but not in thrall to Keith Rowe, in a surfeit of solo improvisations. I witnessed one from five feet away and was thrilled by her resolution and invention. "Improvised music is transient.... It's not meant to be precious." Amen.

9) Smothered -- Dirty Laundry (No label). Courageously intimate garage rock, replete with smart songwriting and the sound of surprise. Their release show, played outdoors in freezing temperatures, is a lifetime Top 10 for your humble chronicler o' events. These kids (pictured above), fronted by Taylor Watt, have heart. 

10) El Mantis -- El Lago de los Ciegos (No label). Houston's great free jazz-Latin rock fusion in their first outing as a quintet. I saw them perform this in its entirety before reedman Danny Kamins took a season off to kick cancer's ass. Stirring stuff. 

Fort Worth, 11.8.2025

We headed over to Arts Fifth Avenue to catch the Johnny Case Trio, appearing as part of Arts Fifth's Second Saturday Jazz series. For 24 years, Gracey Tune's venue has provided a listening space for jazz, including an annual Django Reinhardt festival (originated by the late Slim Richey) and tributes to esteemed reedman James Clay (who my late buddy Jim Yanaway recorded at Caravan of Dreams). 

The estimable pianist Mr. Case is justifiably famous for having held down Fort Worth's longest-lived jazz gig (28 years!) at Sardines Ristorante Italiano, once every Fort Worthian's favorite date spot and a gateway to jazz for many (another: the Sunday night sessions at the late Tad Gaither's Black Dog Tavern, whose legacy is now carried on by Joey Carter and Paul Metzger at the Scat Jazz Lounge).

What Johnny represents to me is the jazz tradition before it was co-opted by academia and transformed from an ephemeral art informed by individuality into a canon of techniques and conventions that could be reproduced. With ears big enough to hear both Bob Wills and Cecil Taylor, Johnny is equally well versed in western swing and jazz modernism. His mother Floy Case, an early country music scribe and familiar of Ernest Tubb, is in the Country Music Hall of Fame. His brother Jerry, who passed in 2023, was a guitarist with whom he collaborated. 

Johnny mentored and encouraged generations of jazz players in Fort Worth, and turned overtly political following the invasion of Iraq in 2003. He is as well versed in the history of American popular song -- the "Great American Songbook" repertoire -- as he is in the rhythmic and harmonic innovations of his jazz predecessors. He is a unique treasure in a city that underappreciates its jazz heritage (from I.M. Terrell High School through Caravan of Dreams).

His current trio includes virtuoso bassist Nathan Phelps, son of ubiquitous Denton low-end master Drew Phelps and a CalArts graduate, and Keith Wingate, a jazz man for all seasons, on drums. I have history with Keith going back to when I used to write about his trio with Chuck Brown and Lucas White for the Fort Worth Weekly (where Gayle Reaves, also in attendance last night, beat all the Lester Bangs wannabe-ism out of me, to my great benefit) -- a unit that mixed '70s fusion repertoire with Beatle covers. 

When Keith heard I'd sold all my musical equipment after getting fired from my tech writing job at RadioShack, he gifted me a guitar and amp that got me through two years of house band gigs at the Wreck Room (RIP). When his children, now college age, were still small, he transposed his entire repertoire to the ukulele, because it was easier to carry when he was out and about with the kids. Over the years, Keith repeatedly reinvented himself, first as a stand-up bassist, then (seven years ago) as a drummer, to gig with Johnny. Luckily for us, he still gigs on guitar, too; I plan to be present on December 11, when he plays solo during happy hour at the Nobleman Hotel.

The music was standard repertoire: some ballads (played uptempo), some bossa nova, some blues: "Charade," "I Can't Get Started," "Wave," "Stella By Starlight," "Summertime," "Manha de Carnaval," "Solar." Johnny digs a strong groove, which Keith provides, playing inside the tunes (to which he knows the chord changes and lyrics) in a Jimmy Cobb/Roy Haynes bag, flashing his chops only when called on to solo or trade fours, giving the lie to his self-deprecating assertion that "No one else would hire me" with crisp and ingenious fills and terse rhythmic statements. Nathan's an able accompanist whether playing deft countermelodies or walking straight four-to-the-bar, soloing on every tune and taking the head on one at Johnny's request. His solo work is particularly strong in the bass's upper register, playing across the neck and fretting with his thumb at times. 

Throughout, Johnny fairly danced on the keys, always inventive and swinging, always faithful to the song. My mind drifted back to a hundred nights at Sardines, sitting in the warm candlelit glow while Johnny's music provided its own incandescence. If you haven't heard Johnny Case in awhile (or ever), you owe it to yourself.

Patricia Brennan's "Of the Near and Far"

With each release, vibraphonist-composer Patricia Brennan has broadened and deepened the scope of her compositional vision. Beginning in 2021 with the solo Maquishti, Brennan has followed up with the percussion-heavy quartet date More Touch (2022), adding a four-horn front line for last year's award winning Breaking Stretch. 

Now, with Of the Near and Far, she deploys an ensemble that juxtaposes a jazz quintet (featuring piano and guitar) with a string quartet and an electronic musician in service of a set of compositions inspired by her interest in astronomy and her background in classical and new music. Like many of my favorite releases of the last decade, it was produced by the estimable David Breskin, and like Brennan's last three albums, it's on Kris Davis's Pyroclastic Records, which has become a trade mark of quality at mi casa the way A&M Horizon and Artists House once were.

Brennan's compositional methodology for this material -- which involved collecting pitch and numerical data from constellations, which she then overlaid on the circle of fifths in search of harmonic or melodic symmetry -- sounds like Pete Townshend Lifehouse sci-fi insanity, but the resultant music is surprisingly consonant, with a tonal palette that evokes celestial space. The lush strings serve as a background and counterpoint to Brennan's pointillistic tuned percussion melodies, which sparkle like stars against their firmament. 

Opener "Antlia" works off overlapping layers of rhythmic irregularity that occasionally coalesce into groove -- mechanistic like electronic dance music, but more organic. "Aquarius," appropriately enough, has a more liquid feel, with the strings again playing contrasting patterns while the rhythm section pulses gently, providing the underpinning for the gorgeous melody. "Andromeda" palpitates with nervous energy and showcases guitarist Miles Okazaki and pianist Silvie Courvoisier to good effect before segueing into "Citlalli," a feature for electronic musician Arktureye. 

This gives way to the lush romanticism of "Lyra," inspired by Greek myth through the filter of Monteverdi's opera L'Orfeo. An ascending motif features the strings, first pizzicato to create tension, then arco as the rhythmic complexity builds behind Brennan's shimmering solo. The closing section, with the strings alone, speaks of love and loss. On the closing "When You Stare Into the Abyss," Brennan's tasteful application of electronic effects to her vibraphone creates spacey sonics.

With Of Near and Far, Patricia Brennan affirms her position as an important new voice on her instrument, and a composer worth following. We look forward to hearing where her muse takes her next.

STC Live at McFly's Pub, 11.1.2025

Self explanatory.

Fort Worth, 11.1.2025

Played my first band show in six years last night at McFly's Pub out by the Joint Reserve Base -- I must have driven by this place a million times when I was stationed at what was then Carswell AFB, but never set foot in there until Indivisible TX-12 had a happy hour thing a couple of months ago. Been sweating it out in Tony Medio's jam room up in Haltom City the past six months, and we finally decided to road test the set in public, at Cameron Long's home bar. My wife shot photos and Taylor Collins shot video, which we'll see when they're ready. I just wanted to record a few observations, although I am not Mike Watt, who writes a little Finnegan's Wake in the van after every gig.

Originally thought we were playing indoors, but Cam called while I was enroute to inform me that there was a huge swamp cooler in front of the stage, which the house said would be necessary if there were a lot of people there. I told the bartender when I arrived that they had probably overestimated our draw, but that we could play outside if we could move their PA. This they agreed to, and we were situated on the outside stage in short order. A quick soundcheck and we were ready to go, although I had turned one of the mics up so Tony and I would have vocal parity. We would pay for this later on when Tony's mic produced blasts of feedback that my buddy Joe Gosch helped get under control.

At first it seemed we might not have a minyan of civilians, but as downbeat time of 8pm approached, folks started filtering in. I never counted heads, but it was probably in the 30-40 range. Not bad for a first gig by a band of washed-up has-beens. It was good to see friends Riley Shaw, Rick Benedict, Gregg Prickett, Andrew May, Kavin Allenson, and Sir Marlin Von Bungy there, as well as folks from the Arlington Heights Bridge Brigade.

Sound was about equivalent to what we hear in Tony's jam room. My Hughes & Kettner has slightly less punch and definition than Tony's Fender that I use at practice, but made up for it in extra crunch. I still use the same three (types of) pedals I have since I was 16: Catalinbread Jennings Fuzz, Vox wah, and MXR Phase 90 (poor musician's Univibe). My John Kobetich custom, with silver dogear P-90s courtesy of Harvey Gold (Tin Huey, Golems of the Red Planet) is my varsity axe now; I brought Brother Nick Girgenti's Lone Star Strat as backup, which proved unnecessary. As a recovering lead guitarist, I play six solos in a 15-song set (three of which are medleys/segues); three are structured, three are chaotic. 

I used to vibe up for gigs, back when I was still drankin', but this time I spent the day trying to clear my head and settle my body. I am happy to report that I feel great today, unlike days gone by, when I used to feel as if I had been thrown down the stairs. (My wife points out that besides having a hangover, I used to be a lot more physically active onstage than I am now, when I have to stand in front of a mic stand.)

Playing solo acoustic gigs made me realize that I have no fear of singing in public, but it didn't take me long to realize that it's a lot more interesting listening to Tony and Cam play than it is to hear myself singing and strumming. Tony is a bassist with great melodic imagination, and Cam is the most musical of drummers. He listens to everything, and even knows song lyrics. At different times last night he played material originated by Ginger Baker, Mitch Mitchell, Keith Moon, and Jim Gordon, and didn't disgrace himself. He also has the rare quality (in a rock drummer) of swing; his Charlie Watts groove caused us to change the way we play Randy Newman's "Have You Seen My Baby" from the Flamin' Groovies' full-on assault to a Rolling Stones lope. Makes my hand hurt less.

Audience response was favorable. I was especially pleased when the teenage child of one of Cam's coworkers came up and asked if I was the guitar player, then said that they play electric guitar and dug what we were doing. Now it can be told: This wasn't actually our "only US appearance this year." We'll be at the Grackle Art Gallery on Saturday, December 20, at the bottom of a bill including our pals in Hijazz Ensemble. Can't hardly wait.

L-R: Your humble chronicler o' events, the unremittingly positive Cameron Long, happy warrior Tuff Turf Tony Medio.