ECM Releases

Bill Frisell: Works

| Tyran Grillo

Frisell

Bill Frisell
Works
Release date: September 19, 1988

Number 12 of ECM’s “Works” series ushers us into the woods behind guitarist Bill Frisell’s musical homestead. It’s a damp, shadowy, and at times warped place to be, but nonetheless familiar. As with many of its predecessors, the juxtaposition of tracks suggests new associations even as it invites further reshuffling in our analysis. In this case, it behooves us to start plurally and work our way to the singular.

One of Frisell’s all-time standouts, “When We Go,” is blessedly included. Taken from 1985’s Rambler, it drops Frisell into a band only ECM could have put together with Kenny Wheeler (trumpet), Bob Stewart (tuba), Jerome Harris (electric bass), and Paul Motian (drums). The tune’s balance of carnivalesque and fantastic progressions is uniquely Frisell’s own, and the sound of his guitar—fluid yet crisp—is winning. “Wizard Of Odds,” from the same session, is likewise emblematic. These two alone serve as a viable introduction to his totality as a player.

From quintet to quartet, Frisell joins another dream team of John Surman (soprano saxophone), Paul Bley (piano), and Motian. “Monica Jane” (Fragments, 1986) mixes Bley’s bluesy backing, Surman’s swanky surrealism, and that unmistakable guitar until only shadows remain. “Conception Vessel” (it should’ve happened a long time ago, 1985) is a trio setting with Joe Lovano (tenor saxophone) and Motian once again. Lovano brings harmonic wonders to bear, while Motian himself is so organically integrated that one hardly notices him. A rather different sound emerges by way of “Black Is The Color Of My True Love’s Hair” (Bass Desires, 1986), in which bassist Marc Johnson and drummer Peter Erskine provide a pliant backdrop for Frisell’s instrument, which touches the edges of consciousness as a brush to hair.

“The Beach” (In Line, 1983) is a duo with bassist Arild Andersen, whose arco harmonics ignite heat lightening above Frisell’s deserted farmland, leaving us to witness another masterstroke in “Throughout.” Later adapted by Gavin Bryars as Sub Rosa (which actually concludes the Frisell collection released on ECM’s :rarum series), it mixes the oil and water of acoustic and electric guitars with alchemical assurance. A year before that, Frisell laid down the truly solo “Etude” on Motian’s 1982 wonder, Psalm, the touchless notecraft of which curls arms around ears.

Looking back on these, we can see any number of other possible paths through their uncongested streets, of which the one presented here is a page in an atlas of possibilities. However we choose to regard them, we can be sure they will always take us somewhere far away and make it feel like home.

Pat Metheny: Works II

| Tyran Grillo

Metheny 2

Pat Metheny
Works II
Release date: September 19, 1988

One of the benefits of ECM’s “Works” collections is their fashioning of new narratives from preexisting material. This album is particularly successful in that regard. Like cut-and-paste poetry, it connects disparate events with uncanny coherence. It’s also unique for being the only sequel in the series, and for instigating a new and final set of five, redesigned covers and all. Here we are treated to highlights from some of Metheny’s most painterly work on record, and from sometimes-unexpected sources.

As for the expected, the compilation unearths two gems from 1976’s Bright Size Life. The trio of Metheny, bassist Jaco Pastorius, and drummer Bob Moses must be heard to be believed (as first-time listeners, I imagine, hardly believed what they heard when this leader debut was released). Where “Unquity Road” casts a spell from note one, constructing from found items a house no proverbial wolf could ever blow down, “Unity Village” is a congregation of electric guitars that allows the wind of our listening to pass through unobstructed. Such ventilation is key to Metheny’s art: furthering the gospel of melody by allowing creativity to flow directed. The detour of “Oasis” (Watercolors, 1977), in which bassist Eberhard Weber draws sustaining threads across Metheny’s sparkling arpeggios, segues back into that glorious trio with “Sirabhorn.” Another classic stopover plants us squarely in the Pat Metheny Group’s 1983 live album Travels. “Farmer’s Trust” is noteworthy for its birdlike environment and aching lyricism.

Two somewhat surprising trees sprout from 1980’s 80/81 and 1984’s Rejoicing. The first, “Open,” finds Metheny unraveling an especially tight knot in the company of Dewey Redman and Mike Brecker (tenor saxophones), Charlie Haden (bass), and Jack DeJohnette (drums). The second, “Story From A Stranger,” joins Haden and drummer Billy Higgins at the hip alongside Metheny’s synth guitar. Every chord change is a new phase of life, a coming of age in the truest sense and a gentle reminder that nostalgia may yet be felt and conveyed for things we’ve never even experienced.

Eberhard Weber: Works

| Tyran Grillo

Weber

Eberhard Weber
Works
Release date: April 1, 1985

Our tenth stop along the “Works” railway attests to the unique attunement of Eberhard Weber’s talents as bassist and composer to the ECM universe. In the former capacity, he contributed an unmistakable style to myriad recordings as sideman, and by the time of this compilation had already established an indelible footprint. A particularly evocative example comes to us by way of guitarist Ralph Towner’s 1975 masterpiece, Solstice. In the track “Sand,” Weber’s cello and bass render textures of glass, water, and stone alike. Jan Garbarek’s soprano saxophone is a seagull crying overhead as Towner’s 12-string laps the shore with phases of time and Jon Christensen’s colorful percussion sets Weber coolly aflame.

Even more substantial offerings are to be found in Weber’s own work as leader, as in “More Colours” from his 1974 debut, The Colours Of Chloë. Over the cellos of the Stuttgart Südfunk Symphony Orchestra, he paints with his own cello like a water droplet hitting the water in time-lapse sequence. The piano of Rainer Brüninghaus traces the ripples of its disappearance, as if to carve its memory in mindful stone. It’s a configuration echoed in “Moana II” (The Following Morning, 1977), in which Weber’s bass, in search of a beat, finds only electroacoustic expanse. Further colors abound in 1978’s Yellow Fields, of which “Touch” evokes the blush of first love through the lenses of Charlie Mariano (soprano saxophone), Brüninghaus (keyboards), and Christensen (drums). The music is parthenogenetic and eternal, spotlighting Mariano’s purposeful lines and Christensen’s blinding cymbal work. From the light to the night, we find ourselves endowed with “Eyes That Can See In The Dark.” Interpreted by the same instrumentation, though now with John Marshall replacing Christensen, this masterpiece from 1978’s Silent Feet is easily one of Weber’s crowning achievements for its joyful register. “A Dark Spell,” from 1980’s Little Movements, continues in that vein. Its explosion of piano and cymbals sets up a smooth ride across flatter terrain, as Weber’s fluid bass and Brüninghaus’s pianism glide—sometimes crossing paths, sometimes in parallel—toward a groovy, dramatic finish.

Perhaps more than any other of the “Works” series, this one shows the evolution not only of an artist in his prime but also of music itself at a watershed moment in recorded history, traced in the orthography of a label unafraid to open the very doors it builds.

Terje Rypdal: Works

| Tyran Grillo

Rypdal

Terje Rypdal
Works
Release date: April 1, 1985

Norwegian guitarist Terje Rypdal almost singlehandedly defined an era with his signature electric sound. While that sound had much to do with his balancing of lyricism and grunge, and of his classical and rock leanings, it was forged in no small way in his compositional foundry. Such eclectic roots were already well-watered by the time of his 1971 self-titled ECM debut, from which “Rainbow” is included in this deserving collection. Joined by Jan Garbarek on flute, Eckehard Fintl on oboe, Arild Andersen on bass, and Jon Christensen on percussion, Rypdal delineates a resonant dream space where symphonies and concertos go to be reborn.

Though the works featured here are not presented in chronological order, it makes sense to do so here. Next in the chain is “The Hunt” (Whenever I Seem To Be Far Away, 1974). This relatively surreal tune marries the Mellotron of Pete Knutsen with the deep digs of bassist Sveinung Hovensjø, while the French horn of Odd Ulleberg exchanges letters of the soul with Rypdal through forested landscapes. Said letters might as well be signed “Better Off Without You” (Odyssey, 1975), in which Rypdal’s delicate arpeggio draws a trajectory through the heat distortion of Brynjulf Blix’s organ. The title track of 1978’s Waves carries over the same Hovensjø/Christensen rhythm section over the uninhabited spaces mapped by Palle Mikkelborg on trumpet and keyboards. Rypdal takes an immaterial rather than physical role, brushing on the atmosphere one shadowy strand at a time.

“Den Forste Sne” references Rypdal’s marvelous 1979 trio album with bassist Miroslav Vitous and drummer Jack DeJohnette. The latter’s call is so bright that it would blind Vitous and Rypdal were it not for their solar responses. “Topplue, Votter & Skjerf,” from the 1981 follow-up To Be Continued, casts Rypdal in a leading role. Like a warrior without armor, he wields only melody and protective instincts. Between those two signposts stretches the hybrid banner of Descendre. With Mikkelborg and Christensen at his side, he digs through clouds like an archaeologist of the ether in “Innseiling” and sings like liquid mercury personified in that 1980 album’s title track. These are, however, but a few of his many facets, all of which are worth exploring in a career that continues to evolve with listeners firmly in mind.

Jack DeJohnette: Works

| Tyran Grillo

DeJohnette

Jack DeJohnette
Works
Release date: April 1, 1985

Jack DeJohnette has, of course, been long known as the go-to drummer on practically every Keith Jarrett trio album ever to be released on ECM. But he has also led a phenomenal double life as a composer and bandleader, and his strengths in those capacities—along with his mastery of the kit—are highlighted in this compilation. For intensity of atmosphere, you can’t go wrong with “Bayou Fever.” The opening tune off 1978’s New Directions places him in the esteemed company of trumpeter Lester Bowie, guitarist John Abercrombie, and bassist Eddie Gomez. Against Abercrombie’s surreal backdrop, Bowie’s trumpeting is delirious yet lucid while the band pulls its blues from another dimension. Building tension without release, they sustain their balance over an expanse of marshland, amphibious dreams, and childhood memories. Two cuts from the output of DeJohnette’s Special Edition outfit reveal deeper layers of his craftwork. “One For Eric,” from the band’s 1980 self-titled debut, situates Arthur Blythe (alto saxophone), David Murray (bass clarinet), and Peter Warren (bass) in a classic eruption of creative magma and shows DeJohnette at his most cathartic. As does “The Gri Gri Man” (Tin Can Alley, 1981) at his most atmospheric. Featuring the man of the hour on congas, drums, organ, and timpani, it illustrates distant and arid terrain even as it carries a storm’s worth of rain in the heart.

“To Be Continued,” from the 1981 album of the same name, reshuffles the deck and deals a new hand with guitarist Terje Rypdal and bassist Miroslav Vitous. As one of the most inspired combinations to spring from the mind of producer Manfred Eicher, it couldn’t not be represented here. Rypdal’s blue solar flares, in tandem with Vitous’s joyous extroversions, provide the very substance through which DeJohnette draws his continuous thread. A likeminded masterstroke is the Gateway trio with Abercrombie and bassist Dave Holland. Where the guitarist’s original “Unshielded Desire” (Gateway, 1975) is a duet with DeJohnette that finds the musicians speaking two dialects of the same fervent language, “Blue” (Gateway 2, 1978) swaps drums for piano in a lyrical love letter to time itself.

Taken together, these selections offer a glimpse into a career that continues to evolve yet compresses it into an idol worthy of self-regard. Candid, rooted, and authentic are the names of the game.

Chick Corea: Works

| Tyran Grillo

Corea

Chick Corea
Works
Release date: April 1, 1985

In contrast to the pianism of Keith Jarrett, which always seems to be moving, Chick Corea’s (at least during this particular period, on this particular label) is marked a sensation of profound stasis, especially in his solo work. In “Where Are You Now?” (Piano Improvisations, Vol. 1, 1971), from which we hear the first of eight “Pictures,” a slow-motion twirl ensues, while “Noon Song” from the same album undermines its own brightness with a forlorn heart, as if we were the only ones privileged to hear it, dissociated form the time and location in which it was recorded. “A New Place (Scenery)” (Piano Improvisations, Vol. 2, 1972) even more deeply highlights our own separation from the creative act, which we can only regard from afar. The otherwise solo program of 1984’s Children’s Songs yields the buoyant “Addendum” with cellist Fred Sherry and violinist Ida Kavafian, which epitomizes Corea’s penchant for sudden changes, dissonant surprises, and cuttings against the grain—all designed to hold us in place. The latter album is further referenced in the cyclical “Childrens Song” from 1973’s Crystal Silence with vibraphonist Gary Burton. The duo shares more spotlight with string quartet in the cinematically inflected “Brasilia” (Lyric Suite for Sextet, 1983).

For other ensemble configurations, we look first to “Slippery When Wet” (Trio Music, 1982). Alongside bassist Miroslav Vitous (with whom she shares a “Duet Improvisation” as well) and drummer Roy Haynes, Corea unleashes an aphoristic style of rhythming, treating bursts of energy as their own compositions in miniature over the fantastic interplay of his sidemen. From trio to quintet, Corea offers us the joys of “La Fiesta” (Return To Forever, 1972) with Joe Farrell (soprano saxophone), Stanley Clarke (bass), Airto Moreira (drums and percussion), and Flora Purim (percussion). This montuno jewel fronts Farrell’s lithe soprano and Corea’s electric piano, bubbling like hope to the surface of every life that crosses its path.

Keith Jarrett: Works

| Tyran Grillo

Jarrett

Keith Jarrett
Works
Release date: April 1, 1985

If the artists represented by ECM’s “Works” series so far have been princes, then Keith Jarrett would be candidate for their king. The pianist (and multi-instrumentalist besides), composer, and interpreter continues to chart the most prolific path through the label’s history in solo, trio, and quartet settings, as well as through the lenses of multiple genres. For this compilation, we encounter all of those strands, save for his trio outings, which would warrant a collection in and of itself.

Two tunes from his second European Quartet album, 1978’s My Song, touch our collective soul with a highly individualistic tone. “Country” reinscribes the unrepeatable nature of the band. From the ways in which piano and Jan Garbarek’s tenor saxophone lay down the theme while the rhythm section of bassist Palle Danielsson and drummer Jon Christensen emotes with equal assurance in horizontal (not vertical) relation to the exuberant restraint of Jarrett’s grounding throughout, it’s a tune that feels as much like a farewell as a hello. We then find ourselves walking “The Journey Home.” As Garbarek leads with melodic fortitude, he sets up a welcoming groove of light. Christensen is especially three-dimensional, while Jarrett defers to Garbarek’s charms and really only dominates in the final slowdown.

From that rich soundscape to the wonders of unaccompanied hideaways, we turn to “Ritooria,” from Jarrett’s 1972 ECM debut, Facing You. Like a candle burning in the dark for all who have ears to sense its dancing flame, it holds on to its wick in the left hand while the right flickers erratically yet connectedly. Another lone effort, Staircase, yields Part II of that 1977’s album’s title triptych. If you haven’t already revisited it, let this track remind you of it as one of Jarrett’s finest studio achievements alone at the piano. Like two transparencies of the same image overlapped yet slightly askew, it develops through not-quite-parallel voices, ending in almost ritualistic space. The only live solo selection is “Nagoya Part IIb (Encore)” from 1989’s Sun Bear Concerts. Treading the keyboard as if it were water, Jarrett holds every note in place before finding rest in gentle chords.

Between these relatively direct expressions of personal energy, Jarrett the composer is represented by the 2nd movement of his String Quartet, as performed by the Fritz Sonnleitner Quartet on 1974’s In The Light. Despite being a lovely work in its own right, it feels straightjacketed in its present company. (I might have chosen the beautiful Metamorphosis for flute and strings from that same program instead.) Somewhere in between those two poles of classicalist and improviser is Jarrett’s often-overlooked 1981 masterpiece Invocations/The Moth and the Flame, from which “Invocations (Recognition)” is excerpted. A semi-waltzing rhythm via pipe organ sets up an echoing soprano saxophone, warped and yet flowing in the right direction at any given moment. All of which serves to remind us that we are indeed nothing but moths in the presence of Jarrett’s alluring combustion, struggling to recreate our shape in the air long enough to be regarded as (to reference a much later title) a multitude of angels struggling to record what can never be notated, except on the ephemeral paper of the flesh.

Pat Metheny: Works

| Tyran Grillo

Metheny

Pat Metheny
Works
Release date: April 1, 1984

On the crowded cruise ship of unmatched talents that is ECM, Pat Metheny deserves a first-class suite. The prodigious guitarist cut teeth with Gary Burton, making his first label appearance on Dreams So Real, and recording that same month (December of 1975) what would become the splash heard around the musical world that was Bright Size Life. This compilation, however, jumps over that leader debut into his last two watershed moments of the 1970s. The first of these is “Sueño Con México” (New Chautauqua, 1979). Its combination of acoustic guitars and electric bass is about as close to the original cover photograph’s open road as one can imagine. Without a care (or a car) in sight, Metheny plays his way through patchwork fields, each with its own character and color, and which by their counterpoint suggest a collective song. The second, “(Cross The) Heartland,” represents the Pat Metheny Group’s sophomore album, 1979’s American Garage. This dream team of Lyle Mays (keyboards), Mark Egan (bass), and Dan Gottlieb (drums) renders every change of scenery with utmost clarity. Metheny plays with squint-eyed brilliance, riding an underlying current that never lets up until the end. Thus, the title feels less descriptive than prescriptive: a bidding to step outside everyday bounds and see some history for yourself.

Our ride takes us through later PMG intersections, including the title track of 1983’s Travels and “James” from 1982’s Offramp. Both find bassist Steve Rodby replacing Egan for an especially distant sound. From moonlight to sunlight, this overnight diptych spotlights Mays’s ability to spin progressive ropes from traditional filaments. On “It’s For You” (As Falls Wichita, So Falls Wichita Falls, 1981), he and Metheny join percussionist Nana Vasconcelos, who also lets his singing voice carry forth: a melodic backbone built to withstand any flexing of key change and forward motion. Rounding out this “Works” entry are two selections from 1980’s 80/81. Alongside Mike Brecker on tenor saxophone, Charlie Haden on bass, Jack DeJohnette on drums, the parenthetical wonder of “Every Day (I Thank You)” opens Metheny’s 12-string like a loom to narrative weaving. By contrast, “Goin’ Ahead” is a congregation of multitracked Methenys that distills the essence of his formative years. Brilliant, evocative, and timeless.

Metheny captures all of this and more as a camera takes in light, turning moments into lasting memories to be treasured time and time again.

Egberto Gismonti: Works

| Tyran Grillo

Gismonti

Egberto Gismonti
Works
Release date: April 1, 1984

Egberto Gismonti is a force so enormous that ECM grandfathered his own label, CARMO, under its wing to archive much of his older material, as well as that of the younger musicians interpreting it still today. But to these ears his finest recordings have always intersected with ECM proper, and the late 1970s/early 1980s defined a golden age in this regard. Producer Manfred Eicher had a way of bringing out an inner peace in Gismonti’s frantic guitar playing and likewise enhancing something rough and ready in his sweeping pianism. It was therefore inevitable that such a sizable body of work would be faithfully abridged in his own “Works” compilation.

“Lôro” is one of two tunes from 1981’s Sanfona to find their worthy place in the mix. Impeccably recorded and performed, this jewel is one of Gismonti’s most precious on record and features the talents of his Academia De Danças band. Exemplifying the sound of both its era and its composer, its instrumentation, engineering, and execution glow in ECM’s resonant chamber aesthetic. “Maracatu” is another pianistic vehicle for Gismonti, whose rolling waves crash onto shore in the last rays of a setting sun. From here we jump back three years to Sol Do Meio Dia, a session shared with Nana Vasconcelos on percussion and Collin Walcott on tabla. Gismonti’s custom 8-string guitar is resolutely beat-driven throughout “Raga,” in which he experiments with harmonics and dissonances until only purest fusion remains.

“Magico” pays tribute to the 1980 album of the same name. This peerless trio with bassist Charlie Haden and saxophonist Jan Garbarek was the living definition of lockstep. As the latter two musicians embrace the space with hands of extremes, Gismonti solos over himself in a brilliant division into multiple voices. But nowhere does his ability clarify itself so resolutely than on his 1979 Solo, from which two tracks are excised. “Ciranda Nordestina” is a look inward through lenses of piano and bells, and is another stunning construction. “Salvador” returns to his 8-string guitar for a piece of remembrance. It is the musical realization that physical locations change just like those who inhabit them and can never go back to the way they used to be. We might flip (or click) through their histories, but the only way to know what things once were is to unbury them with things yet to be.