A NYC creative musician of my acquaintance once remarked that the reason everyone in the city (and by extension, in the touring ecosystem) does improv is that the only way one can afford to rehearse compositions is by winning a grant.
Brooklyn-based guitarist-composer Max Kutner has found another approach. Having already released the heavily conceptual home-recorded gem Rogue Lash earlier this year, Kutner went back to the drawing board and, using the same materials -- loops, beats, and samples; synths and sequencers; live guitar and bass -- in a more freewheeling and experimental manner, birthed The Illustrated Interior. Like Jazz from Hell-era Zappa, its chilly vibe might not be everyone's taste, but for those who can suspend their affection for the artifacts of human imperfection, it's a thought-provoking and occasionally exhilarating listen.
While lesser lights use repetition and mechanized sounds for their own sake (like guitarists with huge pedalboards who play an E chord for an hour), Kutner's imagination is tireless, creating multilayered worlds of texture, rhythm, and melody. Opener "The God of the Moment," for example, sets a pounding rock groove against a background of swirling ambience, leading into a tortuous stream of melody -- imagine the Police, but freed from the constraint of needing to support songcraft.
"Rashomon" starts out sounding like a visit to an out of control video arcade before streams of contrapuntal melody kick in and weave their way through the syncopated jungle. "Somnambulant Parade" is a shimmering soundtrack for a sci-fi flick that only exists in Kutner's mind, while "Joyful Wraiths Seeking Intelligent Heaven" is an excursion into mutant funk. "Centripetal Phantom" overlays restless layers of syncopation with curtains of slow-moving melody, recalling the '80s electronic gamelan version of King Crimson. Things reach a climax with the tumultuous "Tantalus," which gives way to the relief of the gently pulsing, incandescent "An Attic Beneath the Earth."
Max Kutner's an adventurous sonic explorer who's found ways of using home recording to produce works of depth and complexity. While I miss the live kick of his Partial Custody trio, which we lucky few in Texas got to experience a couple of years back, I'll stay tuned to to hear what's next to emerge from his laboratory.
Firelife Trio's "The Space Around the Sound Resounds"
I don't remember why I wasn't at this Firelife Trioshow, but from the date -- January 11, 2025 -- I'd guess I was still in the throes of post election depression.
I've watched siblings Aaron and Stefan Gonzalez grow up in music, first in Yells At Eels, their trio with their father, the late, lamented Oak Cliff polymath Dennis Gonzalez, and in their projects since then. Aaron played on a session with master percussionist Ra Kalaam Bob Moses that produced the CD Cozmic Soul Gumbo. The siblings performed together in Luis Lopes' Humaization 4tet and the Dennis Gonzalez Legacy Band, which performed their father's music with joy and fire, and a larger ensemble than I'd seen him play with in life. Stefan formed Trio Glossia, a collaborative trio with young firebrands Joshua Canate and Matthew Frerck, continued his association with Norwegian bassist Ingebrigt Haker Flaten (The Young Mothers), and started a new one with Chicago multi-reedist/scene captain Ken Vandermark.
I remember Danny Kamins telling me at the Legacy Band's record release show at the end of November 2024 about the growth in his left leg that was later diagnosed, while he was on tour, as non-Hodgkins lymphoma. Thankfully, Danny has kicked cancer's ass since then, but at the time The Space Around the Sound Resounds was recorded at the Ochre House Theater in Dallas' Fair Park (where Aaron has been a regular performer in productions), that was all in the future. All Danny knew the night this recording was made was that he was in pain -- so much that he was forced to play the show leaning up against the wall (shades of a Coltrane blues from Impressions!). (I remember a similar situation on the night of the first Legacy Band show at the Kessler Theater, when Aaron was in so much pain from herniated discs that he spent the entire evening when not onstage lying on a bench because it was the only position that didn't hurt. Some artists are driven to create.)
Aaron and Stefan's musicality is informed by early allegiances to punk and metal, and growing up in a house filled with the sounds (and on occasion, the makers) of the most advanced free jazz of the time. Over the years, with their father up front on trumpet, Yells At Eels grew to be a mighty juggernaut of sound, fueled by their seemingly inexhaustible high energy. (Dennis once confided in me, "These boys are kicking my ass!") Eventually, he formed Ataraxia to have an outlet with a quieter dynamic. But musical growth arrives on its own timetable. It seemed to me that Stefan, in particular, was changed by the experience of being a bandleader and living with drummer-saxophonist Joshua Canate. While Joshua's drumming became more aggressive and visceral, Stefan adopted a more "European" approach, utilizing more space and silence -- perhaps his focus on vibraphone in The Young Mothers and Trio Glossia was also a factor.
By January 2025, the Gonzalez siblings had been playing with Danny Kamins off and on for five years. Danny's a superior technician who devotes much time and energy to honing his craft; he's equally adept on the full range of saxophones, concentrating on soprano and alto here. His circular breathing fluency and command of overtones are both impressive, but in this situation -- perhaps as a result of the physical discomfort he's playing through, perhaps because of his familiarity with his collaborators -- he's clearly an active participant in a three-way conversation where listening is as important as playing. Each of the three lengthy pieces (shortest: 11 minutes and change, longest: over 26 minutes), whose whimsical titles have Aaron Gonzalez's fingerprints all over them, is a dynamic odyssey through a whole gamut of emotions and textures. One hesitates to say it, but after several listens, I feel confident to say this is the finest recording that I've heard from any of these musicians. Listen.
Stefan's planning a move to Chicago in November. He's already recorded with Vandermark as part of the reedman's Chicago/Texas Sound Ensemble. His last area shows are booked. I plan to be there when Trio Glossia plays the closing of the Rashid Johnson exhibition at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth on September 26. Godspeed to him, Katie, and Gurgle, and looking forward to hearing what sounds emerge from the associations he'll form in the City of the Big Shoulders.
The Japanese pianist-composer Satoko Fujii is a prolific artist who's toured the world performing solo, in ensembles of various sizes, and at the helm of orchestras in a number of cities. She made the transition from classical repertoire to jazz via a Tokyo cabaret big band, and this year, she's releasing five orchestral albums to celebrate that important wellspring of her creativity.
The first of these, Satoko Fujii's Bunker Ulmenwall Orchestra, is the result of a serendipitous discovery: a USB stick containing the complete recording of a concert Fujii played in Bielefeld, Germany, back in 2014. The venue, Bunker Ulmenwall, was a converted WW2 air raid shelter -- shades of Slaughterhouse-Five -- and the orchestra, specially assembled by promoter Wolfgang Gross for the occasion, included both professional musicians and music students, who would have the opportunity to hear their original compositions performed and lead the band.
The orchestra has a particularly muscular sound, which includes two drummers, live electronics, and a bass saxophone. The first disc of the two CD set is given over to Fujii's composition "Shiki," previously recorded with her Orchestra New York. The students acquit themselves well, holding their own with the pros, playing powerful ensemble sections to link expressive solos.
The second disc features compositions by two of the orchestra members (bass saxophonist Andreas Kaling and altoist Luise Volkmann) alongside pieces by Fujii and her spouse, trumpeter Natsuki Tamura. Kaling's "Yamantaka" (named for the conqueror of the lord of death in the Buddhist pantheon) is a lumbering behemoth with rock dynamics and appropriately skronky guitar pyrotechnics from Lucy Liebe, while Volkmann's "Antischwarm" wends its way through several dynamic shifts -- a set highlight. Tamura's "Jasper" sets an expectant tone, like a sci-fi "dawn of time" soundtrack. Fujii's "Gen Himmel" ("towards heaven") provides a stately and majestic conclusion, overlaid with drum thunder.
After the Storm, with Fujii's Orchestra Kobe, is a different beast entirely. The eponymous suite, in four movements, was composed during Covid, in the hope of a better world to follow (which didn't eventuate, but you can't blame the composer for that). It was recorded before a small invited audience at a "recording concert" a la Mingus' infamous '63 Town Hall concert, minus the chaos (except for an air conditioner that wouldn't turn off and a recording machine that did).
The first movement opens pensively with extended solos, building intensity as it goes. The second begins with turbulence and dissonance (including wild and wooly band vocals), ending on a hopeful note with ascending chords. The third movement springs to life in a dense thicket of harmony, out of which Tamura explodes with a screaming solo.
The climactic movement opens with brash fanfares, followed by intertwining solos and King Crimsonoid chords leading into a suitably angular solo from guitarist Takumi Seino. To these feedback-scorched ears, it's the sound of all the suppressed energy that built up during the lockdown, which manifested itself in Black Lives Matter and other things. Out of all the churn comes the uplifting finale -- which can provide renewal to listeners who are still struggling in the storm's aftermath.
NB: Bandcamp links are digital download only. All of Satoko's CDs are available via her website.
Out September 4, Second Attempt is Fujii's third release with her Orchestra Berlin, recorded at the end of a partially disrupted European tour earlier this year. After playing three of eight scheduled quartet shows, Fujii was unexpectedly called back to Tokyo when her father suffered a stroke. Some shows were cancelled or rescheduled; Berlin-based pianist Liz Kosack filled in on one of the remaining dates. Two weeks later, Fujii's father was discharged from hospital after a bout with pneumonia, and the pianist was able to fly to Berlin in time for the scheduled orchestra concert.
For the first time in nine years, musicians from Poland, France, and Germany assembled, with only email instructions and a two hour rehearsal to prepare them. The five part suite they performed was made up of short fragments originally written to provide background for solos. The suite's somber third section requires the musicians to perform without instruments. While earlier workshop performances included the use of paper cups, chopsticks, and duct tape, the Berlin concert included musicians tearing, crumpling, throwing, or reading newspapers (replaced by sound effects in the recording).
The suite begins quietly, with the aforementinoed Liz Kosack's synthesizer providing understated electronic sounds to contrast with delicate trills and long tones from the horns, setting the table for trombonist Matthias Muller's solo statement. The second part is a concerto for dueling drummers Michael Griener and Peter Orins, joined by saxophonist Gerhard Uhlmann for a rousing finish. The fourth part catapults into motion with an energetic solo from trumpeter Lina Allemano, settles into a quieter interlude, then roars out as it came, with saxophonist Matthias Schubert leading the way. The concluding movement opens with an enigmatic solo from baritone saxophonist Paulina Owczarek (a familiar of the Olbrzym i Kurdupel cats from the last post), leading to a theme reminiscent of Charlie Haden's "Silence" before Tamura takes it out with a final solo and nonsense vocalismo.
Fujii plans to follow this orchestral tryptich with albums from her Orchestra Nagoya on October 2 and Orchestra Tokyo on November 6, adding, "I will have to save New York for 2027." Can't wait.
Things we like: Olbrzym i Kurdupel, Marcin Bozek, Tomek Gadecki
My late friend Dennis Gonzalez was a great fan of Polish jazz, and even wrote a tune celebrating "The Polish Spirit." My exposure to Polish musicians was limited to having seen violinist Michal Urbaniak and vocalist Urzula Dudziak open for Larry Coryell's Eleventh House at SUNY Albany back in '74, and awareness of recordings by trumpeter Tomasz Stanko, pianist Adam Makowicz, and pianist/composer Krzysztof Komeda. I first encountered bass guitarist Marcin Bozek in 2024, when he was on tour with Houston-based saxophonist Danny Kamins, and via their subsequent duo release Ignorantka. This past weekend, my wife and I had the pleasure of hosting Marcin, Danny, and Marcin's Olbrzym i Kurdupel bandmate, tenor saxophonist Tomek Gadecki, as they played the third date of a US tour at Fort Worth's Grackle Art Gallery. Now I have a stack of recordings to enjoy, so you get to join me as I dig in.
Perhaps the best place to start is with frrrr..., the debut recording by Olbrzym i Kurdupel (that's "giant and shorty" in Polish -- henceforth referred to as OiK). The cover art goes Who's Next one better, and is an example of the earthy humor that's part of the spirit Dennis loved. OiK coalesced in 2007 during jam sessions in their home town of Gdynia, on the Baltic Sea, where Bozek was employed as bassist in musical theater. They originally planned to work with a drummer, but when he failed to show up for their first rehearsal, they decided to keep the duo format -- shades of early AACM, or Tejano and blues bands I know in Fort Worth where members doubled because you couldn't afford to blow a gig when someone didn't show. You do what you can with what you have. On frrrr..., you hear the sound of two musicians getting to know each other. Both possess prodigious musical imagination and the ability to listen and respond empathetically. It's a solid debut.
Recorded in 2010 and released in 2012, Six Philosophical Games shows OiK broadening and deepening their expression, and expanding their dynamic scope. Gadecki is able to reach the tenor's highest range through the use of overtones, and even produce multiple tones, while Bozek burbles and rumbles underneath, playing a very active and percussive bass. You won't miss the absence of a drummer here, although one "game" invites you to "play with us as a drummer." The two men can conjoin their sounds with great intensity, but they don't fear silence and space. Gadecki's burnished tone occasionally gives way to a rougher texture that harks back through Archie Shepp all the way to Ben Webster. On "listen to the whole part after long run* remember not to take shower before the game**," they're able to sustain a train of improvisatory thought for 20 minutes, running a gamut of emotions. The deceptively titled "let's dance, solo* or in pairs***" ends the set on a melancholy note. Recommended for easy to advanced game players.
From 2013, Affair with Art is Bozek's solo statement. His is as distinctive a voice on bass as Jamaladeen Tacuma's, eschewing harmonic functions for a more energetic and engaged approach. His treble-abundant amp tone, rich with tactile information, gives his bass a dimension of sound sculpture like Sandy Ewen's approach to the guitar, only with more tonal input.
Gadecki's 2022 solo effort let's talk about shame provides proof positive that the saxophonist is far from a one-trick pony. Apart from his improv work, Gadecki performs with the psychedelic/ambient rock unit Lonker See, and let's talk about shame reflects that part of his musical persona. Here, Gadecki's tenor and baritone appear in moody, atmospheric electronic soundscapes, joined by Michal Markiewicz's viola on "Shame Gdynia '80" (a reference to the labor strikes that led to the formation of Solidarity and the downfall of Polish communism) and Hubert Zemler's snare and kettle drums on two tracks (most effectively on the somber, post-apocalyptic "Windy soul"). The shift from Transgression's electronic beat to the martial tattoo that introduces the lament "Ukraine" is striking. Poland's history is one of repeated conquests by hostile powers from east and west. The disquiet that underlies this piece is one American listeners might find hard to identify with...or not. As a fan of Pink Floyd circa Ummagumma as well as the AACM, I know I'll be returning to this disc.
The 2024 release Sadoil teams Bozek's bass with Berlin-based chamber music specialist Marie Takahashi's viola. Together, they make a music of fine detail, like neurons firing. A quiet sound that amply rewards close listening. (Was sorry to read on Marie's website that she's been hospitalized. Wishing her a speedy recovery!)
Your best entertainment value in this review -- it's available as a free download via Bandcamp -- and thus perhaps your easiest portal of entry to the Polish improv universe is Plastikowy jednorozec (Plastic Unicorn), the debut release from the Gdynia Improvisers Orchestra. Recorded in 2018 and released in 2024, the album is a document of a group founded and conducted by Bozek, in which he uses a modified version of the conduction system devised by Lawrence "Butch" Morris to direct a large ensemble (up to 66 players) in spontaneously created works that sound through-composed.
The album opens with a crescendo of voices and instruments that sounds like a roller coaster, leading into R&B/gospel organ fluorishes and pointillistic guitar, and a female vocalist cooing improvised lyrics (in Polish and English). A second female vocalist joins and a bossa nova beat emerges. A trumpet solos freely over the Brazilian groove, interrupted at intervals by dissonant organ chords and droning saxophones. A raga-like interlude ensues, accompanied by chanting which gradually overhelms everything. Then an episode of moody, Mingus-like horn polyphony...but I should let you discover the rest for yourself. It's a wonder, and highly recommended.
The latest Gdynia Improvisers Orchestra release, 2025's Milioni Slonc (Millions of Suns), isn't Bandcamp available, only via the orchestra's website (link above), Apple Music, and (shudder) Spotify, but there's a snippet on YouTube that lets you see them in action, including Bozek's conductions.
The orchestra here possesses a wider tonal palette than on the debut, including strings, accordion, and handpans. The opening ostinato with vocal extemporization gives way to an episode of squalling horns over swinging jazz rhythm, with the audience (on cue) adding their voices to the cacophony. Then a biting rock guitar slashes through before running aground in a repeating figure by horns, strings, and voices that feels like breathing. A descending line from the strings brings the tempo down while the bass solos tentatively underneath. The soundscape continues to shift, filled with sonic surprises. The astonishing thing is that all of this music occurred spontaneously, cued by Bozek's gestures. Endlessly intriguing, and highly recommended.
Released this past February, Gadecki's latest album is the solo Homo singularis, recorded in the resonant space of St. John's Church in the Baltic Sea Cultural Center. Gadecki uses his tenor and baritone saxes to shape the sound and push it out into the air, from long tones to various levels of multiphonics to feats of circular breathing endurance. Listen, feel the space and the moment.
Last but surely not least, Olbrzym i Kurdupel's 20th Anniversary of Artistic Work is the duo's sixth album and a souvenir for those of us fortunate enough to catch them on tour in the US (readers in Rogers AR, St. Louis, Bloomington IN, and Chicago may still be able to; European listeners will have to wait until Poland's Jazz Jantar festival in October). At this point, Bozek and Gadecki are like a telepathic whirlwind, melding their minds and shifting direction faster than most musicians can think. Over two decades, they've perfected their common language to where they can glide from one expressive peak to another effortlessly. Powerful, soul-cleansing stuff from two improvisers who richly deserve your attention.
This week was more of an ass kick than I anticipated, but I was still able to toddle up the street to The Grackle Art Gallery for its seasonal re-opening party with a couple of trios: Dallas classical-improv virtuosi Trio du Sang, and Polish duo Obrzym i Kurdupel, augmented by Houston sopranino sax specialist Danny Kamins (El Mantis, Sleeping Beast, Firelife Trio). This is probably going to be my Show of the Year, so lemme tellya 'bout it.
Hadn't seen Trio du Sang in a couple of years, although violinist Andra May dueted with guitarist Gregg Prickett at an improv show in Denton late last year. Since then, I've learned that percussionist Bobby Fajardo played Xenakis' "Rebonds A" -- I've been on a Xenakis tear since learning that Amorsima Trio will be playing an all-Xenakis program for their tenth (Xth, get it?) anniversary performance at TCC Northeast later this year -- for his masters program at the University of Miami. (It's on YouTube.)
Trio du Sang's performance seamlessly blends composed material with improvisation, drawing on influences that range from Romantic repertoire to gypsy jazz to Afro-Caribbean rhythms. The opening piece was a showcase for shifting dynamics, driven relentlessly by Fajardo's hand percussion. The amplified strings needed some power to match Fajardo's vigor, but the overall sound was well balanced and not excessive for the room.
Prickett, whose jazz ensemble Monks of Saturnalia gave a profoundly satisfying performance in Denton last week, was equally adept on nylon stringed axe here, laying the harmonic foundation and tossing improvisational curveballs at his bandmates, who listened and responded with near-telepathic exuberance. May's violin was the icing on the cake, singing expressively and providing counterpoint to Prickett's melodies, at one point even employing a plectrum to the violin. Never saw that before. Glad to see this crew on the boards again, hoping to hear more from them soon.
The touring act that followed Trio du Sang represents a confluence of improvising traditions. Danny Kamins is a road dog, crisscrossing the US and Europe on solo tours since kicking cancer's ass a while back. He's a product of both jazz academia (Cal Arts) and the fertile Houston experimental music scene. The duo Obrzym i Kurdupel -- Kamins' frequent duet partner Marcin Bozek on bass guitar and tenor saxophonist Tomek Gadecki -- are part of the vibrant Eastern European free music scene. Bozek is the founder/conductor of the Gdynia Improvisers Orchestra, while Gadecki also performs in the baritone saxophone duo Sambar (with Paulina Owczarek) and the psychedelic rock outfit Lonker See. Their band name translates from Polish as "the giant and shorty," a comical reference to the physical contrast between the towering Gadecki and the wiry, compact Bozek.
Their set began with a cascade of notes from the dueling horns of Kamins and Gadecki. Kamins is a master of circular breathing, and he's been working on his overtones, while Gadecki has an impressive command of the tenor's full range -- even working up in sopranino territory. It's like '60s energy music, but with more intention and precision, a manifestation of what Kamins calls "commitment to craft." Underneath it all, Bozek plays an agile and inventive style of bass, using a treble-rich sound that accents every finger movement and harmonic. At one point, he inserts a horn mouthpiece (he also plays French horn) in the face of his bass to make the group a wind trio.
Some of the set's most impactful moments came towards the end of the set, when Kamins' circular breathing -- truly a phenomenon to see and hear -- took off into Roscoe Mitchell territory, while Bozek laid his bass across his lap and played it percussively, evoking both metal and funk. Then Gadecki and Bozek duetted, sounding for all the world like Archie Shepp driving a runaway freight train. I have a stack of CDs here, including three by Olbryzm i Kurdupel, that I look forward to delving into (and maybe even writing about) in the days to come. In the meantime, if you're in Denton tonight, go catch Kamins, Bozek, and Gadecki at Rubber Gloves, part of Porous Sonorous's showcase celebrating the tenth anniversary of Ernesto Montiel and Miguel Espinel's improv duo Monte Espina.
Hit a wall this week so decided it's time for me to become an observational listener and scribe again for a minute. As fortune would have it, 'twas the evening when my favorite band, Monks of Saturnalia, was playing a pre-release show for their upcoming debut disc, Sacred Home, on new Oak Cliff-based indie Gentle Static Records, at a brand new venue, The Pony, a bar/restaurant-cum-eclectic music venue just off the square in Denton (314 E. Hickory, Suite 121, to be exact). So my buddy Mike and I saddled up and headed out to see what was what.
The Pony's a nicely appointed room with a maximum capacity of 114, good sightlines, and impeccable sound. I've been following the Monks for years and this was the first time I actually got to hear them the way they're supposed to sound, with leader Gregg Prickett's guitar ringing full and rich out front, up there with the (on this occasion) two-horn front line -- Dale Fielder on alto and soprano, Steve Brown on tenor -- and the rhythm section of bassist Drew Phelps and drummer Alan Green clearly audible (although sometimes visually obscured). Thanks to publicist extraordinaire Lisa Oldham's advance work, it was a full house, and The Pony's master of ceremonies Dorian Marsh started the evening with a request that the audience be quiet and listen.
Opening number was Prickett's Albert Ayler dedication "He Walked Into the River," which I first heard when it was performed by the very last incarnation of titanic drummer-composer Ronald Shannon Jackson's Decoding Society at Oak Cliff's Kessler Theater back in 2012. Previous versions with the Monks had included a spoken intro/outro with audience participation, but on this night, the music spoke for itself, the elegiac theme invoking the free jazz pioneer's combination of melodic simplicity and expressive emotionalism.
Second song "Hika" is a dedication to the first of four wolf hybrids Prickett has lived with over the years. It's a tumbling jazz waltz in the mold of late '50s Mingus, with Fielder and Brown locking horns like John Handy and Booker Ervin on Mingus Ah Um or Blues and Roots and Alan Green -- a master percussionist who combines subtlety and finesse with relentless swing -- providing the powerful propulsion. The first set closed with "Gone Dance," a new composition by bassist Drew Phelps, a Prickett collaborator since "before we were born," dedicated to Phelps' late wife Esther. The onstage communication between Phelps, Prickett, and drummer Green is nigh-on telepathic, and the bassist's compositions radiate warmth and soulfulness.
Second set started strong with another Phelps composition, "The Day the Crops Died," which gallops along like a Western movie soundtrack and provides ample opportunity for solo statements from all the players. Phelps is equally adept and expressive on arco and pizzicato, while Prickett combines classical chops with tastefully applied electronic effects and throws in an episode of nasty slide that evokes the shades of both Duane Allman and Sonny Sharrock. Fielder, a prolific leader in his own right, skirts the stratosphere on soprano and alto horns, while Brown is the epitome of the tough Texas tenor.
The secret weapon, sitting in back, is Alan Green, a hard swinger in the tradition who's absorbed influences from the avant garde and can also groove hard like an R&B showband drummer. His brisk shuffle on Prickett's "My Underdog Soul" drives the tune relentlessly and serves as a launching pad for lots of horn pyrotechnics. That tune was followed by a moody change of pace, "Missing Requiem" -- a dedication to California wildfire victims co-composed by Prickett and baritone saxophonist Aidan Sears, who plays on the Monks record but is currently ensconced in the L.A. music scene.
The Monks ended the evening with an improv exercise that's a digital-only bonus track on the album, which featured the band extemporizing freely while Prickett ran the changes to a standard ballad. As Mike and I were getting ready to return to the Fort, I told Lisa Oldham something on the order of, "You know how to get bodies in seats." Her response: "I just like to see Gregg smile." My favorite guitar player was smiling plenty last night. May it always be so.
Hadn't done one of these in a minute. Decided to take an evening off from doing political stuff to take in a show in Dallas, where two of my very favorite improvisers were performing in collaboration with some folks I knew not from Adam (or so I thought), under the aegis of Ernesto Montiel's Porous Sonorous -- a trademark of quality around mi casa -- and New Media Contemporary, the artist-run multimedia gallery of Fort Worth cat James Talambas, whom I last saw when he was running sound for No Kings 3 and I was running around in an orange vest.
Opening the show was an exciting newcomer, a young Dentonite who goes by the handle xmyri. Seated at a table behind a laptop and a wire nest of electronic gear, xmyri cued samples of musical fragments, sometimes interrupted by silence, using faders while projecting images that looked like melting glacial ice on New Media Contemporary's large screen -- a feature (along with the streaming video installations around the room) that make the venue particularly well suited to this type of presentation.
In conversation later, the artist allowed that normally, their visuals are interactive, but they had opted to go with fixed patterns to avoid crashing their laptop. (I suggested that sometimes it's beneficial to have a constraint or two built into an improvisation.) While new to performance, xmyri is already demonstrating a strong command of their tools, and an ability to combine sonic surprise and visual atmospherics in compelling ways. Someone alert the Dallas Ambient Music Nights folks.
Next up was the first time duo of virtuoso cellist Kourtney Newton, whose performances of composed music (with Sounds Modern at the Museum of Modern Art Fort Worth) and non-idiomatic improvisation (on the Denton experimental scene) are always thrilling, and multimedia artist Sean Miller, who also performs with his spouse, chanteuse extraordinaire Lily Taylor, under the rubric Locations. Newton admitted that she came to the gig with the expectation of performing solo music with visual accompaniment, and was relieved to have another musician to play off.
Since the last time I saw her perform, she's added looper and Whammy pedals to her stage rig, along with her cello and musical saw. In electroacoustic situations like this, I always worry about the volume differential between electronic and acoustic instruments, and while Miller's shifting soundscape of acoustical textures (with visual accompaniment that looked like flowing mercury) occupied a big chunk of midrange space, Newton was able to make herself heard. She has a vast array of techniques at her disposal -- false harmonics, glisses, percussive and grinding effects with bow and beater on strings, tapping on the body of the cello, and more -- that she augmented with the pedals to create repeating backgrounds and push through the electronic wall, even managing to interject a brief melodic theme. Most striking of all were the sounds she produced with the musical saw, creating crazy glisses and otherworldly vibrato that cut through even more dramatically than the amplified cello.
Beam Splitter, the Berlin based duo of vocalist Audrey Chen and trombonist Henrik Munkeby Norstebo, were joined by Oak Cliff's own Stefan Gonzalez (just back from a quick mini-tour of Europe with The Young Mothers and preparing to relocate to Chicago in November) on vibraphone for a powerful set that raised the intensity stakes for the evening dramatically. Chen and Norstebo perform a highly empathetic form of improvisation, in which the sounds of their breath, channeled through the filters of his instrument and her formidable vocal technique, are treated electronically (controlled by Norstebo, who manipulates knobs while he plays), resulting in something like organic jazz metal. Her percussive plosives, idiosyncratic scatting, and vocal fry extended beyond imagination were almost superhuman. Dancing behind his vibes with manic intensity, Gonzalez listened intently and played off of Chen's vocalese both rhythmically and melodically until the set reached a satisfying conclusion. The audience of 20-odd folks listened attentively and roared their approbation when it was finished.
Now back to work, but I'll be heading to Denton on August 15 to hear Gregg Prickett's Monks of Saturnalia -- whose debut album is complete and is my most anxiously awaited release of the moment -- will perform at The Pony, a new Denton spot run by muso Dorian Marsh and his fiancee, ceramicist Bella Tylen. On August 22, I'll toddle down the street to the Grackle Art Gallery to hear sopranino saxophone master Danny Kamins in a trio with bassist Marcin Bozek and tenor saxophonist Tomek Gadecki, with Prickett's acoustic Trio du Sang opening. On August 23 there's another cool show which I'm not sure I'm allowed to mention yet, and I hate having to go back and correct these things. Last but not least, Kourtney Newton says that the collaborative new music outfit Amorsima Trio, of which she's a member, might be performing in Tarrant County this October; film, as they say, at 11. All I ever need is something to look forward to. Especially good electoral outcomes on November 3.
