Later That Evening
Eberhard Weber bass
Paul McCandless soprano saxophone, oboe, English horn, bass clarinet
Bill Frisell guitar
Lyle Mays piano
Michael DiPasqua drums, percussion
Recorded March 1982 at Tonstudio Bauer, Ludwigsburg
Engineer: Martin Wieland
Produced by Manfred Eicher
If you’ve ever stared at a body of water and been entranced by the play of reflections on its surface, then your ears will appreciate the sonic equivalent thereof on Eberhard Weber’s Later That Evening. Though one misses on this date the unmistakable sweep of Rainer Brüninghaus’s keys, in his place we get the likeminded sensitivity of Lyle Mays alongside the various reeds of Paul McCandless and interstellar meows of Bill Frisell. Completing this sonic package are Michael DiPasqua on drums and of course Weber himself in a sweep of a different kind on his leading electro-bass. Over the course of four Weber originals, averaging nearly 11 minutes each, this never-repeated ensemble lays down some of his farthest-reaching tracks ever committed to disc.
Mays scrims his shaw within the first minute of “Maurizius,” one of two shorter extensions in the album’s liquid flow. Riding a foamy wave of cymbals and English horn, Frisell’s blurry curls find solace in the darkening sky, which pushes the sun down silently behind the middle horizon all the way to the title track, where Weber’s bass winds into its fleshiest expressions. Yet it is in that middle horizon where this set’s true richness is disclosed. The ghostly voices that open “Death In The Carwash” seem to approximate footsteps, each traced by soprano saxophone. Weber’s gorgeousness stretches this elastic band to a state of near-snap as Frisell and Mays weave their growing kinship into the trampoline from which Mays springs, arms spread. Back on the ground, “Often In The Open” finds piano and drums in a darkly grained dialogue. The drumming picks up quietly, suddenly, stringing soprano by spidery pulls from guitar, leaving us in a circular theme from McCandless, who finishes alone.
One can always expect fluidity from Weber, and the music on Later That Evening is no exception. It cages the air like waterspouts in the distance, kept at bay from their potential destruction through a screen of remembrance.