ECM Releases

John Abercrombie: Works

| Tyran Grillo

Abercrombie

John Abercrombie
Works
Release date: September 19, 1988

John Abercrombie is easily remembered as one of the most virtuosic jazz guitarists to ever run a finger across a fret board. He was also a marvelous composer, as attested by the appropriately named Timeless. From that 1975 leader debut are fished out two personal favorites from the Abercrombie pond, both of which find him in the company of keyboardist Jan Hammer and drummer Jack DeJohnette. The traction of “Red And Orange” finds each musician at once exploding with singularity and interlocking without a gap in sight. Abercrombie and Hammer dialogue fearlessly, while DeJohnette never lets up his intensity. “Ralph’s Piano Waltz” is another gem, this time with an airier energy and syncopation. After these brightly lit forays, Night adds to that trio the tenor saxophone of Mike Brecker. The 1984 album’s title track swaps Hammer’s synth for piano beneath Brecker’s melodic insistency. Unlike the atmospherically kindred “Nightlake” (Arcade, 1979), with Richie Beirach on piano, George Mraz on bass, and Peter Donald on drums, and in which Abercrombie’s sound is astonishingly smooth yet precise, it finds the bandleader in a more mood-setting role.

The year 1978 yields three albums as different as they are defining. Where “Backward Glance” (Characters) is a guitar-only splash of moonlight through trees of memory, “Dream Stalker” (New Directions) is a collective improvisation with Lester Bowie on trumpet, Eddie Gomez on bass, and DeJohnette at the kit. Carry the DeJohnette and add a Dave Holland on bass, and you have “Sing Song” (Gateway 2), a fascinating congregation grounded in sonic truth. Shout out to the glorious exchange when DeJohnette hits a bell-like cymbal and Abercrombie responds with a cluster of resonant notes. Extraordinary.

All that’s left to discuss is “Isla.” This duet with Ralph Towner on 12-string guitar, from 1982’s Five Years Later, is a woundless combination. Like Abercrombie’s body of work as a whole, it’s a fantasy so powerful that it stands as reality.

This collection is all kinds of wonderful, and as good a place as any to start if you are new to this unparalleled talent.

Lester Bowie: Works

| Tyran Grillo

 

Bowie

Lester Bowie
Works
Release date: September 19, 1988

Trumpeter Lester Bowie, gone too soon but never forgotten, made his mark both within and beyond the borders of ECM, but we can be thankful that some of his most indelible impressions were archived on the German record label by one producer—Manfred Eicher—who understood his significance in jazz history in ways few others could. Given that Bowie was a cofounder of the Art Ensemble of Chicago, it only makes sense that this “Works” compilation dedicated to him should open with “Charlie M” from the band’s 1980 classic, Full Force. In that context, Joseph Jarman and Roscoe Mitchell (reeds), Malachi Favors Maghostus (bass), and Famoudou Don Moye (drums and percussion) were more than fellow musicians; they were brothers at the deepest level. Biting into this slice of old school pie, Bowie brings his bluesy incisors into contact. Maghostus is also memorable, foregrounded in the mix and driving us asymptotically toward hope.

As expressive as he was among extended family, he was also given creative freedom by ECM to develop an impactful body of solo work. In 1981, his first foray into that self-directed realm, The Great Pretender, yields the enigmatic “Rose Drop.” Alongside Donald Smith on celesta, Fred Williams on bass, and Phillip Wilson on drums, Bowie looses barely a breath yet spins an organic segue into “B Funk” (Avant Pop, 1986). This one features his Brass Fantasy ensemble in a dissonant take on “We Want the Funk.” Playful vocalizations and even more playful spirit, combined with Bob Stewart’s distorted tuba and Bowie’s mounting wail, make it one brilliant cover. “When The Spirit Returns” (I Only Have Eyes For You, 1985) is more in that vein, building from a slow march into big band blowout.

But the most personal foray into his creative chambers is still to be found on All The Magic! The music of that 1983 album is worthy of the title, as it casts a consummate spell through barest of materials. Whether having a conversation with the self in “Deb Deb’s Face” or injecting a dose of whimsy via “Monkey Waltz,” unleashing a distorted call to arms in “Fradulent Fanfare” or crying for the season with church bells in the background of “Almost Christmas,” he reveals sides to his instrument that few have dared explore. Concluding the first half of that same session, as well as this collection so graciously sampling it, is “Let The Good Times Roll,” a dip into Dixieland waters featuring the operatic stylings of vocalists David Peaston and Fontella Bass in a setting of epic and joyful proportions.

Close your eyes and point to anywhere in Bowie’s discography, and you’ll find him to be a light in the darkness. The trumpet turned from brass to flint in his hands, his breath the spark giving it a voice. And here some of his brightest campfires have been gathered from the blazing trail he left behind.

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.