Vincent Courtois: Mediums (RJAL 397015)

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Vincent Courtois
Mediums

Vincent Courtois cello
Daniel Erdmann tenor saxophone
Robin Fincker tenor saxophone
Recording and mixing at Studio La Buissonne by Gérard de Haro
Mastering at Studio La Buissonne by Nicolas Baillard
Release date: October 23, 2012

Mediums brings together an unprecedented trio of two tenor saxophonists (Daniel Erdmann and Robin Fincker) and cellist Vincent Courtois. Described by the latter as “the story of music I’ve conceived then written, out of my childhood memories and the happiness I experienced in the fantastic world of fairgrounds and the people who work there,” it accordingly welcomes us into a fantastical world replete with colors, lights, and sounds as tensions and harmonies come together like a storm of forces. Though it takes a little time to get settled in, once the parameters are clear, we are taken on an epic childhood tour.

The pizzicato arpeggios of “Mediums” speak of a lyrical core, while the reeds unleash a guttural filigree around them. “Une inquiétante disparition” is in two split parts. From the insistent pulse of the first to the muscular bowing of the second, it turns cries into songs and back again. Between them are the whispering haunt of “Regards” (the album’s most graceful) and the locomotive exuberance of “Jackson’s Catch.” Virtuosity is applied sparingly throughout, and only for the effect of underscoring a primary sentiment.

The tender “Rita and the mediums” and “La nuit des monstres” share studio space with the programmatic (the three-part “Bengal”) and the abstract (“Entresort”). Like “The removal” that wakes us from this dream, we can take each as the beginning of another until rest seems like the memory of a life no longer lived.

If Courtois can be counted on for anything, it’s the integrity of his sonic scripts, wherein most characters are played by himself. New faces shine like the sun—melodies without any other purpose than to cast the listener’s shadow.

Andy Emler MegaOctet: E total (RJAL 397014)

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Andy Emler MegaOctet
E total

Andy Emler piano
Laurent Blondiau trumpet, flugelhorn
Laurent Dehors tenor and soprano saxophones, clarinets
Thomas de Pourquery alto saxophone and vocal
Philippe Sellam alto saxophone
François Thuillier tuba
Claude Tchamitchian bass
Eric Echampard drums
François Verly marimbas, tabla, percussion
With guest
Elise Caron voice
Recorded and mixed November 2011 and January 2012 at Studios La Buissonne by Gérard de Haro and Nicolas Baillard
Steinway piano prepared and tuned by Alain Massonneau
Release date: May 2, 2012

Andy Emler presents an ambitious recording with his aptly named MegaOctet. E total is more than an aesthetic choice; it’s a mission statement for the wandering pianist and composer, whose every step activates a melody to be lived under its own name.

The set list is divided in two. Part A takes a mosaic approach to its crafting of themes and variations. And despite the massive breadth of experience and ability represented by the full ensemble, there’s an astonishing tendency toward ambient quietude at key intervals. The opening “Good games,” for instance, begins with a ghostly piano and voice before the musicians throw everything they have into the mix across a chain of associations. Tuba virtuoso François Thuillier has a star solo, one that unleashes a vortex of overtones. The title track opens in kindred intimacy, this time with bassist Claude Tchamitchian’s arco cries, later joined by the tabla of percussionist François Verly, Eric Echampard’s drums, and a wonderfully geometric horn section. Emler, for his part, directs the flow of energies from his keyboard around a solo from tenor saxophonist Laurent Dehors. Among the other pre-intermission notables is “Father Tom,” another rhapsody from stillness that showcases Dehors’s discursive skills, now drawing a thread of clarinet through eclectic modes and ever-higher climbs. “Shit happens” is another dose of bright-eyed humor with muscular reed work and guttural vocals, ending in a drum free-for-all.

Part B consists of only two tracks, but offers the most substantial moments of the album. “Superfrigo” is its deepest groove, made clear and present by Thuillier’s uplift over Emler’s fantastic traction, and “Mirrors” (dedicated to Joe Zawinul) spins a web of breath and beat under the banner of vocalist Elise Caron. Subtle percussion and exquisite detailing make this a ride to remember.

If forced to compare (and for those that care), I might describe this as Carla Bley Big Band meets Tim Berne. Such is its combination of whimsy and angular virtuosity, its balance of left and right, and its ability to answer its own questions.

Carlos Maza: Descanso del Saltimbanqui (RJAL 397013)

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Carlos Maza
Descanso del Saltimbanqui

Carlos Maza 10-string guitar, piano
Recorded on March 14-16, 2011 and mixed on January 3, 2012 at Studios La Buissonne by Gérard de Haro
Mastered by Nicolas Baillard at Studios La Buissonne
Steinway preparation and tuning by Alain Massonneau
Produced by Gérard de Haro, RJAL and Lautaro for La Buissonne
Release date: April 17, 2012

Ten-string guitarist and pianist Carlos Maza makes his La Buissonne debut in a session imbued with as many influences as there are melodies to contain them. Louis Sclavis describes his music as follows: “It’s Latin America having fun with Europe, it’s a Spanish guitar in an Indian’s hands, an Inca flute that’s slipped into a sonata by Liszt.” If anything can be gleaned from this assessment, beyond an obvious eclecticism, it’s that Maza adapts his shape and gestures to suit whatever waters in which he happens to find himself swimming at any given moment.

In his hands, the guitar serves as both pigment and paper. Between the zoetrope of “El tren de Hershey” and the Polaroid of “Magia y ascenso,” a nostalgic chain of imagery sways in time with the ways things were. Every strum sweeps away the dirt of maturation so that children may re-inscribe it with the signatures of their play. Personal favorites include “Levántate negrita” for its melodic purity and “Altas y bajas” for its roughly hewn unfolding, as if distant mountains were a score to be deciphered. Wordless singing gives voice to the longing that permeates this music.

Maza’s piano is not only a different instrument but also its own continent altogether. Whether in the bipolar “Remando hacia el Sol” (brooding one moment, sparkling the next) or the virtuosic “Rosacolis,” the contradictory language of love is paramount, shifting phases like the moon across a calendar month. The five-part “El Amor en tiempos de crisis” is everything that came before and more. Joy and exuberance share the field with melancholy and heartache, finishing with a dance through sunlit pastures.

This is duly intimate music making, never a challenge (unless you have perfect pitch, as the guitar has some tuning issues) but always a comfort, as if the very sky were pulled over us for a blanket of stars.

Trio Zéphyr with Steve Shehan: Sauve tes Ailes (RJAL 397012)

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Trio Zéphyr
Steve Shehan
Sauve tes Ailes

Delphine Chomel violin and vocal
Marion Diaques viola and vocal
Claire Menguy cello and vocal
Steve Shehan percussion
Recorded on August 9-11, 2010 and March 7-9, 2011 at Studios La Buissonne, Pernes-les-Fontaines
Mixed and mastered on September 8, 2011 by Gérard de Haro and Nicolas Baillard at Studios La Buissonne
Release date: June 12, 2012

Trio Zéphyr returns for its second La Buissonne collaboration, now joined by percussionist Steve Shehan. Their previous effort for the label sadly left me feeling high and dry, but in this instance I am happy to say the trio has achieved something magical. From the first notes of the title track, we are transported to sound-world of personal integrity, organic landscaping, and locomotive transport. The sense of purpose is palpable in the playing, the writing, and the recording. And while before the singing felt strangely disjointed from its surroundings, now it is fully integrated. The gentle chant, for example, that threads “Taladjinata” is alive like the very earth, and Shehan’s clay drum adds just the right amount of ether to remind us of the sky above.

The focus, however, is on the trio’s evocative sense of structure. In the framed cello of “La Barque” and “L’Euphrate” we encounter portraits of time personified. The latter’s churning currents and sostenuto denouement pictures our lives as the moon reflects upon water. The mournful singing of “3 Cycles” weaves a song for all humanity, rising and falling in tune with the sun. The most dreamlike passages are reserved for “Perle,” in which sand and storm are calmed by the touch of peace-loving hands. From “Indella” to “Grenade,” the trio examines trauma under a melodic microscope, so that by the time we lay our heads down in “Luna,” we can be sure of having come full circle, laden with the burdens of those who have no voice to be heard.

Cholet Trio et al.: Hymne à la nuit (RJAL 397011)

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Hymne à la nuit

Jean-Christophe Chloet piano
Heiri Känzig double bass
Marcel Papaux drums
Elise Caron vocal
Chœur Arsys Bourgogne
Recorded November 9-11, 2009 by Gérard de Haro at Studios La Buissonne
Assistants: Nicolas Baillard and Nicolas Sournac
Mixed February 24-26, 2010 by Gérard de Haro and Jean-Christophe Cholet at Studios La Buissonne
Mastered by Nicolas Baillard and Jean-Christophe Cholet at Studios La Buissonne
Piano prepared and tuned by Alain Massonneau
Release date: April 18, 2011

Hymne à la nuit is the brainchild of composer-pianist Jean-Christophe Cholet, who folds his trio with bassist Heiri Känzig and drummer Marcel Papaux into the creative batter of actress-singer Elise Caron and the Arsys Choir from Burgundy. Setting the poetry of Novalis and Rainer Maria Rilke, these song settings blend classical, folk, and jazz elements to capture (and set free) the nuances of every word.

Cholet and company twist jazzy improvisations around hymnal verses, both spoken and sung. The “Introduction,” at 13 minutes, is the longest and most encompassing of the piece’s nine parts, and sets a mood that changes throughout. This could be either an enhancement or a detriment, depending on your preferences. While normally La Buissonne can be counted on for its aesthetic consistency, in this case the voices are recorded in a way that doesn’t feel quite integrated to me. Caron’s vocals are creatively applied, but the choir (with the exception of “Mondnacht”) is more of an afterthought. As for the music itself, it works best when each stream of consciousness is allowed to travel its own route. The a capella opening of “Ostinato,” for instance, is artfully sung and arranged, but loses integrity once it tries to mesh with the instruments at hand.

The most successful integrations are those between Caron and the trio, as in the first halves of “Visage” and “Bluuz.” The bygone cast of “Groove” achieves fullest traction for the ensemble, but due to the vibrant showings of Cholet, Känzig, and Papaux makes me wish this was purely a trio effort.

Vincent Courtois: L’imprévu (RJAL 397010)

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Vincent Courtois
L’imprévu

Vincent Courtois cello
Recorded and mixed April 1-3, 2010 at Studios La Buissonne by Gérard de Haro
Mastered by Nicolas Baillard at Studios La Buissonne
Produced by Gérard de Haro and RJAL for La Buissonne
Release date: January 20, 2011

L’imprévu (The unexpected) is an album of unaccompanied short stories written and performed by Vincent Courtois. ECM listeners will know the French cellist from his work with Louis Sclavis. After toying with the idea of a solo album for more than 15 years, he and producer Gérard de Haro at last found a coincidence of schedules that brought them into the studio together. From the opening title piece, we can hear not only that Courtois is a player of sensitivity and poise but also that de Haro is a most suitable engineer to emphasize the nature of his sound.

The comfortable vibe established by such intimate borders as “Alone with G” (a pizzicato gem that treats the cello as a horizontal rather than vertical instrument) is occasionally broken, as by the scraping arpeggios of “Amnésique tarentelle” and “Skins” or the freely improvised strains of “Suburbs kiosk” and “No smoking,” so that no single mood never dominates. Neither is Courtois afraid to play with the idea of a solo project by multitracking himself into an orchestra. Such instincts feel not like additions from without but extensions from within. In the stretched-out chords of “Colonne sans fin,” “Sensuel et perdu,” and “Regards” (the latter two sounding nearly like lost tracks from David Darling’s Dark Wood), his experience as a composer for film bears deepest fruit. The one compositional outlier is “La visite” by Sclavis, a highlight for its thoughtful reading and tenderness, and its ability to say so much with so little. This is music for those who want nothing but.

Pierre Diaz/Trio Zéphyr: Jours de vent (RJAL 397009)

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Pierre Diaz
Trio Zéphyr
Jours de vent

Pierre Diaz soprano saxophone
Trio Zéphyr
Delphine Chomel violin, vocal
Marion Diaques viola, vocal
Claire Menguy cello
Recorded on September 4/5, 2008 and November 5/6, 2009
Mixed on May 28, 2010
Recorded and mixed by Gérard de Haro at Studios La Buissonne
Mastered by Nicolas Baillard at Studios La Buissonne
Produced by Marc Thouvenot, Gérard de Haro and RJAL for La Buissonne
Release date: December 2, 2010

Pierre Diaz and Trio Zéphyr join forces as Jours De Vent in this congregation of soprano saxophone, strings, and voices. To start us on our journey, Diaz cradles his soprano in a swell of violin, viola, and cello in the pastures of “Le Lendermain Matin.” As the first of a handful of compositions by Trio Zéphyr, it opens our ears to a distinctly visual world. Other Zéphyr pieces fade into faraway climates. Whether in the arid modalism of “Au Coeur Du Dromadaire” or traveling along the locomotive tracks of “Como Lobos” (a highlight for its changing colors), their sense of movement is always purposeful and technically sound.

Diaz’s music is attuned to a darker past. Each of his contributions, but especially “Se Acaba Mi Soledad,” upholds the forgotten victims of the Spanish Civil War as a lens of refraction through which to view our own complicity in collective amnesia. As a quartet, he and the trio peel back even more layers to that tragic history in their collaborative writing. The mournful drawl of “Hasta La Luvia” and microscopic details of “…Je M’envolais” give us plenty to ponder, while the lilting “Agua Linda” pulls us from a spiral of despair into brighter days.

The only aspect of this program that pulls me from its spell is the singing. Though at its gentlest it is a lullaby, when emotions run high, as in the mounting tensions of Diaz’s “Abuela,” it loses focus and, despite its passionate delivery, feels derivative of a certain Orientalist vision of the East. Voices do, however, play an important role as archival beacons in “Erisa” and “Brume,” and the trio’s own do achieve an understated balance of the corporeal and the spiritual in “J’ai Rêvé Que…”

Then again, sometimes aesthetics should not concern us when crying out for salvation against the horrifying backdrops we humans create. All the more reason, perhaps, to throw buckets of honest reflection over those images until their evils become transparent.

Dine Doneff and neRED: A New Frontier with an Ancient Heart

Dine Doneff, multi-instrumentalist and composer of Macedonian extraction, is a self-taught musician with an undeniably broad spectrum of signatures at play in his creative persona. Since 2001, he has been a part of Savina Yannatou’s traveling ensemble, Primavera en Salonico, appearing (under his Greek citizenship name, Kostas Theodorou) on three ECM productions: Sumiglia, Songs Of An Other, and Songs of Thessaloniki. After being encouraged by producer Manfred Eicher to start neRED in 2017. Though still in its nascent stages, the label has put out two fascinating yet distinct sonic experiences for the world-weary listener. I recently conducted an email interview Doneff, who graciously offered his time and insights into how this all came to be. I began by asking how he came to be a part of Yannatou’s circle of phenomenal talent:

“I first met Savina purely by accident back in 2000. While visiting a Greek island for a concert, she happened to be there with the band. The bass player, due to a less fortunate type of accident, suddenly couldn’t make it for the next few concerts, so she asked if I would replace him, which I did with pleasure. One year later, I joined Primavera en Salonico permanently as percussionist.”

As for how neRED came to be, Doneff offers the following anecdote:

“Back in 2003, while touring in Germany, I had the chance to meet with Manfred Eicher. Since then, events brought us often together. He always has open ears to listen to what you do, and got to know some of my recorded projects that had never been officially released. Later on he suggested the idea of creating a label under ECM’s auspices. Such advice, not only from a friend but also a master, was not something I could ignore.”

Before getting to neRED proper, however, we cannot gloss over a beautiful little recording called Izvor. Though not originally rendered with neRED in mind, it served as something of a “test” single—a glimpse into worlds to come. Doneff explains its genesis:

“During the 90s, using a portable tape recorder, I often made short recordings with my guitar with the wish—or better, the need—to capture the mood of the day just before I went to bed. Izvor, which means ‘source’ in Macedonian, was recorded back in 1999 and is my way of representing of this sonic diary in miniature.”

Izvor cover
Izvor

Dine Doneff classical guitar
Recorded November 1999
Release date: January 26, 2017

If labeling music as cinematic hasn’t lost its currency of description, then I must wholeheartedly apply its charge here. This is not to say that Izvor moves like actors on film, but rather that Doneff’s guitar suspends time (and disbelief) in the way a camera facilitates. As memory turns into a reverie of images, words, and sensations, we might just feel the touch of something archaeological, the contact of modern tools resuscitating forgotten relics to their former intimacy, held like an offering to the very air that allows their song to resonate.

From this brief statement (one track of two minutes and forty-five seconds in duration), it is impossible to understand the spectrum of Doneff’s style, much less his inspirations. Of the latter that have come to inform his music over the years, it’s no surprise, given that the bass is among his primary instruments, that he should point to a paragon of creative inspiration:

“I am lucky to have discovered since the late 70s the work of some great musicians. But, if I have to mention one, then I would say that the remarkable personality of Charlie Haden played a big role in my artistic and social development. Especially concerning his projects with the Liberation Music Orchestra.”

While Doneff is very much his own player, perhaps we can draw a connecting thread to Haden’s likeminded ability to evoke grand scenery with minimal gestures. Nowhere truer than in Rousilvo, his first properly cataloged neRED release.

Rousilvo cover
Rousilvo

Takis Farazis piano, accordion
Kyriakos Tapakis oud, mandola
Pantelis Stoikos trumpet
Dimos Dimitriadis alto saxophone, flute
Antonis Andreou trombone
Dine Doneff double bass, guitar, tabla, vocals
Kostas Anastasiadis drums
Slava Pop’va Evdoxia Georgiou voice
Lizeta Kalimeri voice
Martha Mavroidi voice
Lada Kandarjieva soprano
Elena Ginina soprano
Elitsa Dankova mezzo
Irina Gotcheva alto
Recorded April 15-19, 2004 at Agrotikon Studio, Thessaloniki
Additional vocal recordings and editing: Jorgos Pentzikis
Engineered, remixed, and mastered by Christos Megas at Magnanimous Studio, Thessaloniki
Release date: October 27, 2017

This self-styled “Balkan-Jazz Folk Opera” pulls a creative IV from his cultural roots, drawing through that lifeline a flow of minerals, ancestry, and echoes of time. Rousilvo names the village in northwestern Greece once known as Xanthogeia, where Macedonian residents fell victim to persecution and violence at the hands of Greek’s “Hellenization” until it eventually became abandoned. To preserve this marginal community, Doneff combines recordings of the women who survived with an instrumental ensemble and septet of singers. The title of its opening movement, “Narrative,” sets not only a musical but also a conceptual tone. Voice and piano lay down a mournful theme as if standing over a broken landscape and wishing it might all go away. Conversation and birdsong mingle with clear and present melodies, so that those who never got to speak may now be heard.

Doneff further explains the genesis of what he calls his “requiem for a poetry dissolved by political decisions”:

“From a very young age I have experienced social, cultural, and political oppression as a member of the unrecognized Macedonian minority in northern Greece. Even later, as a traveling artist, I came across this issue more times that I would’ve liked. It made me angry but also sad. As I gathered enough strength to talk about it, I built up a kind of operatic structure from those emotions. The libretto includes field recordings and fragments of hidden or ‘forgotten’ songs or stories by members of that same minority.”

Appropriately enough, much of the weight of Rousilvo is carried on the shoulders of its singers. In particular, soloist Slava Pop’va Evdoxia Georgiou’s salt-of-the-earth delivery in “Penelopes of Xanthogeia” moves the heart in a scene teeming with life. Is hers a longed-for past or a hoped-for future? The question remains open, as do we to the Macedonian textures and jazz infusions of “Mirka,” wherein Martha Mavroidi’s voice, wrapped in a cloud of tabla, oud, and drums, cries without border. There is also the unaccompanied singing of Lizeta Kalimeri in “Natsko,” which turns the dawn into a score sheet to be scrawled across by the pen of hardship.

The album is also a vibrant showcase for musicianship. Like theatrical scene changes, each instrumental track is a cleansing of what came before. Highlights include “Apatris” (featuring a gorgeous saxophone solo from Dimos Dimitriadis) and “Song of the unquietness” (a mournful duet between Doneff’s guitar and the trombone of Antonis Andreou). Whether swinging in cathartic improvisation or unraveling a lullaby for the dead, these pieces straddle the line between what cannot be denied and what may never resolve.

Rousilvo, it bears mentioning, is the second part of a trilogy, of which the first part is Nostos (released in 1999 on the independent LYRA label). Doneff speaks of the trilogy itself as “a rite of passage; the long process of the transformation from what we are to what we are coming to be through time.”

We might easily wrap that description around his second neRED release, IN/OUT.

IN:OUT cover
IN/OUT

Dine Doneff piano, Fender bass, electric guitar, drums, waterphone, bendir, bells, flutes, spinetto, keyboards, mouth harmonica, field recordings
Vocal quartet in “Disquiet”:
Lada Kandarjieva soprano
Elena Ginina soprano
Elitsa Dankova mezzo
Irina Gotcheva alto
Composed & performed live by Dine Doneff on July 1, 2016, Domagk Ateliers, Munich as a part of the vernissage for In Search of a Common Ground #2, a group exhibition by eleven contemporary Macedonian artists
Recorded and mixed by Pande Noushin
Mastered by Tome Rapovina
Release date: February 9, 2019

Recorded live on July 1, 2016 as part of the vernissage for In Search of a Common Ground #2, a contemporary Macedonian art exhibition,  this “Soundscape Theater for Double Bass and Tapes” is indeed a search for commonality between the material and immaterial worlds. In light of his maturation as an artist over the decades, it finds him at a point of being able to his fear of going deeper into intimate territories of body and mind.

And what does the album’s title signify to him?

“Mainly balance. Belonging to everything and at the same time to nothing. Both sides, or spaces, are equal in quantity of action and possibilities. In our life experience we are more often in the position of the slash standing between IN and OUT, and it is in our decision to use this ‘symbol of punctuation’ to move from one side to another, however skillfully.”

Over the course of seven parts, the plucked strings of a spinet mingle with bass, the sounds of toys at an open market in Istanbul, an electric guitar, crows in Timisoara, a harmonica, a PA announcement at Zurich Airport, and more. The sensation is that of moving via portals not only through space but also through time. The added magic of field recordings allows us to experience all of this at once. There is a sense that something deeply microscopic is happening here, as if flesh itself were being folded until its inner sanctum is revealed like a diorama at the most genetic level. This method of exploration places the self on a path into the self: the meeting of salt water and fresh water.

Given such subtitles as “Division within,” “Unbelonging,” and “Exile,” it’s difficult to read this as anything but a deeply personal album:

“Indeed. It is a collection of recordings, both composed and out in the field, captured during the past decade while touring in Europe, blended in a storyline, also as a sonic diary. Then, using the recording as theater music, I performed a live monologue on my double bass, interacting with the prerecorded material. A narratively staged debate with soloist as actor/improviser in a one-act play.”

In the context of such attunement, I find myself wondering about a core concept behind it all. Hence, the very name of his label:

“Nered is a southern Slavic word and, in my mother tongue of Macedonian, describes something that has no special order. There is a village in West Macedonia, close to where I come from, that’s called Nered for being chaotic/anarchistic but still beautiful. I felt that neRED applies well to multidimensional artistic projects which have no particular sequence, pattern, or method in relation to one another.”

All of which seeks to inform his art as a space of communication and life experience. Without either, it would just be a flame without a wick. Let his candle burn for decades more.

Oliva/Tchamitchian/Jullian: Stéréoscope (RJAL 397008)

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Stéréoscope

Stéphan Oliva piano
Claude Tchamitchian double bass
Jean-Pierre Jullian drums
Recorded on May 5/6 2009, except songs 1 and 2 (recorded on November 3, 2008)
Mixed on May 28/29, 2009 at Studios La Buissonne by Gérard de Haro, assisted by Nicolas Baillard
Mastered by Nicolas Baillard at Studios La Buissonne
Steinway tuned and prepared by Alain Massonneau
Produced by Marc Thouvenot, Gérard de Haro and RJAL for La Buissonne
Release date: October 22, 2009

It was La Buissonne director Gérard de Haro who discovered pianist Stéphan Oliva’s trio with bassist Claude Tchamitchian and drummer Jean-Pierre Jullian back in 1990, before his studio came to be known under its famed name. Since then, de Haro has engineered 13 of Oliva’s albums as leader, in addition to side projects with other musicians. In 2009, these four brothers in creative sound slipped easily back into their old groove to produce Stéréoscope. The resulting decalogue of Oliva originals, some new and some well-traveled, pays tribute to the 19 years of collaboration and life experience that have spun out from that initial point of contact.

It’s worth noting that quite a few La Buissonne releases open with their title track. An appropriate tendency, as the label’s recordings are often multi-versed poems, and like poems organically take names from their opening lines. The introductory feel of this one is the equivalent of a wide establishing shot, inclusive of a landscape far bigger than the characters on whose lives we will soon zoom in.

A more energetic system of transportation guides us through memories short and sweet in “Labyrinthe” and “Cercles,” and all with an ecumenical style. “Neuf et Demi” is another example of the trio’s geometric interplay, swinging and gone too soon. Likeminded triangles roll across the backdrops of “Cecile Seule” and “Hallucinose,” content to offer a lullaby in shadow to “A Happy Child.” As bass and piano joining in chorus over a splash of brushed drums, we understand the value of unbroken chains.

Still, there are moments when specific talents dominate our vision without force. Jullian’s drumming, for instance, is evocatively spotlighted in “Portée Disparue,” an examination of cymbals as windows into missed opportunities. Tchamitchian’s bassing is likewise the focal point of “Bangkok,” shifting from abstraction to traction without so much as a bump in the road (I would point also to his arco playing in “Nostalgia”). And Oliva’s pianism, at times wonderous, flows through “Cortege” like a river without end. This leaves us to behold the mountains of “Sylvie et les Americains” and “Illusion Desillusion.” In both, the inevitability of life is turned into a song without words.

Fans of ECM’s most lyrical piano trios, such as those of Stefano Battaglia and Bobo Stenson, will feel right at home here. If that’s you, then don’t hesitate to open the door (it’s unlocked), sit right down, and warm yourself by the fire.