ECM Releases

Maciej Obara Quartet: Frozen Silence (ECM 2778)

| Tyran Grillo

Maciej Obara Quartet
Frozen Silence

Maciej Obara alto saxophone
Dominik Wania piano
Ole Marten Vågan double bass
Gard Nilssen drums
Recorded June 2022 at Rainbow Studio, Oslo
Engineer: Martin Abrahamsen
Mixing: Michael Hinreiner (engineer), Manfred Eicher, Maciej Obara, and Dominik Wania
Cover photo: Thomas Wunsch
Produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: September 8, 2023

For his third quartet outing for ECM, alto saxophonist Maciej Obara brings an ever-searching sound to bear on the foreground of a continuously shifting diorama. With him again are pianist Dominik Wania, bassist Ole Marten Vågan, and drummer Gard Nilssen. The tunes were inspired by Obara’s solitary travels in the natural scenery of southwest Poland, where he found himself wandering during the pandemic lockdowns. Such details work their way into many of the track names, starting with “Dry Mountain,” which lobs skyward before dipping down to touch the snowy surface of things. The ice is always moving, tectonic and ancient, even as the overall shape remains. (As in the later “High Stone,” the musicians are acutely aware of one another’s presence. With a grand sense of space, they reach far across tundra and time.) In the subsequent “Black Cauldron,” we encounter a brew of memories and impressions, a recipe as old as time yet with ingredients as fresh as the air we breathe.

The title cut has a delicate underlying groove, sewn into place by the precise needlework of Nilssen’s cymbals, while the glint of sunlight on a landscape brought to stillness by a world screeching to a halt speaks of brighter days ahead. The atmosphere is exciting in its possibilities, as if being alone were the only way to appreciate having others around. Vågan is gorgeously fluid here, lending so much humanity to the sound, the unerringly forward motion of nature continuing around him. Wania’s solo brings the touch of longed-for interaction, even as Obara’s flights keep their shadows in check.

Other notable turns of phrase include “Twilight,” a lullaby that unfolds with understated virtuosity and spotlights Obara’s talents as an improviser like few tracks before it, and “Waves of Glyma.” The latter recalls time spent on south Crete, populating the memory with joyful revelry, fearless camaraderie, and a feeling that life might never end. Amid the phenomenally upbeat rhythm section, Wania holds tight to the ethos of the hour.

One surprise inclusion in the set is “Rainbow Leaves,” a leftover from the bandleader’s Concerto for saxophone, piano and chamber orchestra, co-composed with Nikola Kołodziejczyk but now refashioned as an improvisatory seed. Obara is fiercely (yet never aggressively) beholden to wherever the melody wants to go, letting us tag along six feet behind.

Bobo Stenson Trio: Sphere (ECM 2775)

| Tyran Grillo

Bobo Stenson Trio
Sphere

Bobo Stenson piano
Anders Jormin double bass
Jon Fält drums
Recorded April 2022 at Auditorio Studio Molo RSI, Lugano
Engineer: Stefano Amerio
Cover photo: Woong Chul An
Produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: March 17, 2023

For this fourth ECM outing from pianist Bobo Stenson, bassist Anders Jormin, and drummer Jon Fält, one of the most formidable yet humble jazz trios on the planet explores mostly Scandinavian material. And what more logical place than with the simple act of “You shall plant a tree,” courtesy of Per Nørgård. The present rendition unfolds itself into the creased map of its inner self—proof that this trio, nearly 20 years in fellowship, is committed to a spirit that values emotions like oxygen. As the title indicates, each branch contributes equally to the shape of the whole. Two tunes by Sven-Erik Bäck expand upon this hymnody. The crystalline thaw of “Spring” and the deconstructions of “Communion psalm” reveal a grander instrument at play.

Jormin throws two coins of his own into this font. Where “Unquestioned answer – Charles Ives in memoriam” shimmers like a distant sun, weaving a naked language for the illumination of the ears, “Kingdom of coldness” (last heard on Pasado en claro in starkly different form) has its own story to tell. Between Jormin’s arco helix, Fält’s mineral-rich percussion, and Stenson’s streetlit chord changes, we get a slice of time laid out in physical form.

“Ky and beautiful madame Ky” by Alfred Janson takes a more observational turn. The way in which the musicians are never settled yet somehow cohere shows their deference to wherever the sound wants to go. Jean Sibelius’s “Valsette op. 40/1” paints in subtler shades, snaking through the landscape into the depths of a home built by time. This is childhood coming full circle in old age.

An especially notable piece of the puzzle is “The red flower” by Jung-Hee Woo. Shrouded in late-night jazz club vibes, it begs us to close our eyes, hear the rustle of whispered conversation, and inhale the tang of dry martinis.

The set ends with a variation of “You shall plant a tree.” What was once the trunk is now the seed, looking ever inward to the genesis of all things.

If anything is certain about the ethos of this trio, it’s that nothing is.

Wolfgang Muthspiel: Dance of the Elders (ECM 2772)

| Tyran Grillo

Wolfgang Muthspiel
Dance of the Elders

Wolfgang Muthspiel guitars
Scott Colley double bass
Brian Blade drums
Recorded February 2022 at 25th Street Recording, Oakland, California
Engineer: Jeff Cressman
Mixing: Gérard de Haro (engineer), Manfred Eicher, and Wolfgang Muthspiel
Studios La Buissonne
Cover photo: Woong Chul An
Album produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: September 29, 2023

After clearing a giant swath of land throughout 2020’s Angular Blues, guitarist Wolfgang Muthspiel, bassist Scott Colley, and drummer Brian Blade now construct a series of interlocking structures across it. With “Invocation,” we find ourselves immersed in a sound that is both familiar and forward-seeking. As the mist of spider-webbed guitar and glistening chimes resolves to reveal Colley’s blessing, the trio’s meditations offer glimpses of parallel dimensions before Muthspiel dips into a chord-slung melody, allowing us some oxygen in a suffocating world.

While we might expect a groove from this seeking spirit, more slow building awaits in “Prelude to Bach.” This vaporous studio improvisation surrounds us with memories, each unable to be captured for long before the next takes its place. Before we know it, we’ve morphed into the Bach choral “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,” which holds together like a fresco and touches the soul with equal lucidity. As inevitable as it was unplanned, it cups a candle whose flame has stood the test of time.

Muthspiel has a natural ability to twist the blinds to let in a different configuration of light at every turn. The polyrhythmic title track likewise changes faces as fluidly as one’s reflection in a disturbed pond’s surface. The acoustic guitar speaks with sagacity and love. Before the final act, Muthspiel and Colley recede into hand claps while Blade applies gold foil to the frame.

“Liebeslied” is one of two cover songs (this from Kurt Weill’s The Threepenny Opera). Muthspiel draws a tessellated swing from within the tune’s many-chambered heart. Colley renders his solo in charcoal while the guitarist sketches in quieter pencil in the background before switching to pastel for a final say.

“Folksong” takes inspiration from Keith Jarrett’s vamp-prone improvisations in the pianist’s Belonging period, exploring a chord progression to the point of melodic bursting, with Americana touches and hints of countless side quests. Muthspiel’s acoustic shows its breadth and cohesion, so much so that Colley’s gestures feel like an extension of the same instrument, giving us that sunlit joy of the mid-1970s when Jarrett was at his most exploratory. “Cantus Bradus” pays homage to pianist Brad Mehldau, last heard with Muthspiel on 2018’s Where The River Goes, and whose chromatism shines as a guiding light through spectral improvisations.

Not a single note feels wasted at Muthspiel’s fingertips. Whether caught up in a dance or bearing down directly on a virtuosic motif, he stands at the edge of a proverbial cliff without ever feeling the need to jump. Instead, he takes in the view and shares it with us all. This is nowhere so clear as in his rendition of Joni Mitchell’s “Amelia,” which closes the set with minimal expansion. Even absent of words, it speaks to the heart. The electric guitar is the softer brush in his artistic toolkit, allowing every bristle to sing. Colley and Blade are his tender allies, each a bearer of melodic and atmospheric truths for posterity.

Thomas Strønen: Relations (ECM 2771)

| Tyran Grillo

Thomas Strønen
Relations

Thomas Strønen drums, percussion
Craig Taborn piano
Chris Potter soprano and tenor saxophones
Sinikka Langeland kantele, voice
Jorge Rossy piano
This album was recorded and assembled between 2018 and 2022, with Thomas Strønen, the project’s initiator, inviting the featured musicians to join him from different locations across Europe and the US.
Thomas Strønen, Lugano
Craig Taborn, New York
Chris Potter, New York
Sinikka Langeland, Oslo
Jorge Rossy, Basel
Engineers: Lara Persia, Martin Abrahamsen, and Patrik Zosso
Mixed February 2023 by Manfred Eicher, Thomas Strønen, and Michael Hinreiner (engineer)
at Bavaria Musikstudios, Munich
Photo: Dániel Vass
Album produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: November 29, 2024

Four years in the making, Thomas Strønen’s Relations locates the drummer in virtual duets with Craig Taborn and Jorge Rossy on piano, Chris Potter on soprano and tenor saxophones, and Sinikka Langeland on kantele and voice. After recording Bayou, producer Manfred Eicher invited Strønen to play solo percussion for the remaining studio time. Taking a decidedly classical approach (one might easily recognize shades of Edgard Varèse in here), and already being in the Lugano space where the Orchestra della Svizzera italiana is based, he was able to expand his usual drum kit with a variety of instruments—the only stipulation being that he could not have worked with them before. In response to the pandemic, he sent tracks to other musicians for long-distance collaboration. After a final mix, the result was an album of striking intimacy, timely messaging, and understated humanity.

We open with “Confronting Silence,” one of two tracks featuring Strønen alone (the other being the more sparkling “Arc For Drums”). The initiatory gong sounds nothing like the kickstart of commerce, the welcoming of royalty, or even the peace of meditation. It sings for no other reason than to be a vibration for all creation. Meanwhile, the gran casa rumbles within the soul of things.

Following this is “The Axiom Of Equality,” for which he is virtually joined by Taborn (as also in the diurnal “Pentagonal Garden”). The cellular metamorphosis between them is astonishing for being rendered from opposite sides of the pond, each motif a love letter to the ether.

Because Strønen often leaves moments of pause, letting others dialogue with him and populate the gaps with complementary grammar feels effortless. This is especially true of the tracks with Potter, whose tenor is a voice in the night in “Weaving Loom,” while in “Ephemeral,” he expresses himself internally despite the extroverted and free-wheeling playing, diving with humility into every moment for all it’s worth.

The more we immerse ourselves in the unique sound of this record, the more we settle into the illusion that every duo configuration is in the same room. Strønen’s three dances with Langeland are especially vivid in this regard. In “Koyasan,” the kantele is somehow not an extension of the percussion but the other way around, while in “Beginners Guide To Simplicity,” Langeland’s voice is a call to heart. And in “Nemesis,” brushed drums added an earthy texture that perfectly matches the aural surroundings.

Rossy also joins for three outings, examining linguistic morphologies in “Nonduality” and dropping stones into the waters of “Ishi.” Last is “KMJ,” the most melodic of the set. Every gesture between them is as clear as one’s reflection in a newly polished mirror, and Strønen’s heightened awareness leaves palpable traces behind for us to cross-hatch with the instrument of our listening.

Nicolas Masson: Renaissance (ECM 2846)

| Tyran Grillo

Nicolas Masson
Renaissance

Nicolas Masson soprano and tenor saxophones
Colin Vallon piano
Patrice Moret double bass
Lionel Friedli drums
Recorded November 2023 at Studios La Buissonne
Engineer: Gérard de Haro
Mastering: Nicolas Baillard
Cover photo: Nicolas Masson
An ECM Production
Release date: March 14, 2025

A quiet sparkle, a pebble thrown into the water, and a band that regards every ripple with their art—so begins “Tremolo,” the first of 10 new tunes from saxophonist Nicolas Masson. With partners Colin Vallon on piano, Patrice Moret on double bass, and Lionel Friedli on drums, he crafts melodic prose poetry that opens its borders to the freedom of in-the-moment interpretation. His tenor has the quality of a dream struggling to maintain its form in the face of impending wakefulness. The tension between the two is where so much of this music lives: at once allied with the night while yearning for daybreak. Stretching its neck from the opposite direction is the title track. Speaking as much in the idiomatic language of feet that walk as in that of hands that create, it conveys its autobiography in linked verse. All the more appropriate that his previous album with these fine musicians should be called Travelers, for they all contribute their own stamps to this passport.

What makes the group’s interplay so endearing is the grace of their seeking spirit. In “Anemona,” for instance, they give themselves to the flow of Masson’s organic writing selflessly and not without a significant quotient of charm that lets childlike impulses come to the fore. In “Tumbleweeds,” the free improvisational bonus that follows, we encounter the deepest expression of their atmospheric capabilities. Like the equally brief “Moving On,” which finds Masson and Moret duetting in the half-light, it embraces uncertainty. That said, even in the more artful punctuations of “Subversive Dreamers” (a highlight for its under-the-skin them), we are never coerced into experiencing something outside the realm of lived experience. Such comforts are harder to come by in a world caged by division. And how can one not feel like a messenger bird with a broken wing, mended and set free by the soprano saxophone-driven “Forever Gone”? Tied to our foot is the message ciphered in “Practicing The Unknown,” where hope reigns. At the risk of belaboring the analogy, I wonder whether “Basel” isn’t the terminus of our flight. Its percussive tracery, soaring piano, and unforced sopranism show us the quartet’s heart.

If all the above is the body, then “Spirits” is the blood working its way through the veins. But despite the intimations of kinetic energy that it whispers, it all points to the conclusion in “Langsam,” which challenges the listener to find a better word to describe the mood of what we’ve just experienced.

When listening to Renaissance, it becomes obvious why songs on an album are called “tracks.” It’s because each leaves something physical that we can touch and follow, knowing the journey will be its own reward.

Nils Økland/Sigbjørn Apeland: Glimmer (ECM 2762)

| Tyran Grillo

Nils Økland
Sigbjørn Apeland
Glimmer

Nils Økland Hardanger fiddle, violin
Sigbjørn Apeland harmonium
Recorded January and March 2021 at ABC Studio, Etne, Norway
Engineer: Kjetil Illand
Mixed January 2023 at Bavaria Tonstudio, Munich
by Manfred Eicher and Michael Hinreiner (engineer)
Cover drawing: Lars Hertervig, Sailing Boat, 1858
Album produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: June 16, 2023

Representing nearly three decades of collaboration and exploring a repertoire that spans the gamut from traditional to improvised music (if not one and the same), fiddler Nils Økland and harmonium player Sigbjørn Apeland present Glimmer. The program takes inspiration from their native Western Norway, where Apeland has spent years collecting folk songs preserved by local singers. The duo also includes originals inspired by Lars Hertervig (1830-1902), whose drawing graces the album’s cover.

Most of the tunes survive in the living archive of their homeland, starting with “Skynd deg, skynd deg,” the melody of which melts like ice in the first dawn of spring. In this and its successor, “Gråt ikke søte pike,” Økland’s bow is a root plucked from the ground. The fiddle pulses with life beneath it, strands of potential others sprouting from its central branch, while the harmonium is the sunlight giving it sustenance. After this is “Valevåg,” the first of only two by Apeland (the second being the harmonium-only pulse of “Myr”). Dedicated to Norway’s first atonal composer, Fartein Valen (1887-1952), it is a snaking and mysterious piece that evacuates every mold it creates. This serves as a surreal prelude to “O du min Immanuel,” in which moments of far-reaching breadth wield navigational instruments of great intimacy. Such vacillations are what make the album so compelling.

Much of Økland’s writing favors the brief and the introspectional. Whether in the crystalline beauty of the title track or the haunting, rounded tone of “Dempar,” he draws with a potent pen across thickly fibered paper. And in “Rullestadjuvet,” for which he shares credit with Apeland, he brings forth an understated drama. With so much evocation practically dripping from their palette, they render every contour in three dimensions.

Among the traditionals that flesh out this curation, highlights include “Hvor er det godt å lande” for its dreamy splendor, “Se solens skjønne lys og prakt” for its cinematic charge and magical harmonics, and “Nu solen går ned” for reaching farther than it seems two instruments can. All of these are hymns to something, somewhere.

This is one of those special combinations of instruments that belongs in the same category as Inventio or Ojos Negros, resulting in music that leaves its shadow behind as a reminder of where it has yet to roam.

Billy Hart Quartet: Just (ECM 2748)

| Tyran Grillo

Billy Hart Quartet
Just

Mark Turner tenor saxophone
Ethan Iverson piano
Ben Street double bass
Billy Hart drums
Recorded December 2021
Sound On Sound Studios, NY
Engineer: Roy Hendrickson
Mixing: Gérard de Haro
Supervision: Thomas Herr
Cover photo: Thomas Wunsch
An ECM Production
Release date: February 28, 2025

Saxophonist Mark Turner, pianist Ethan Iverson, and bassist Ben Street join forces with drummer Billy Hart for a flight of 10 in-house originals. These experienced souls, each distinct in their own way, mesh without losing their sense of individuality. If anything, they strengthen it by allowing voices to be heard, listening to be spoken, and legacies to be honored.

Iverson contributes four tunes, including “Showdown,” which opens the set with a somber kiss. If this album is a city, here are its outskirts, where a certain lucidity immediately distinguishes the quartet’s unforced hands. Turner’s soloing is fluid, embracing the affections that compel it to survive adversity. The chord changes get under the skin, letting us go only when it is safe to land. And speaking of landing, “Aviation” throws its paper airplane high and far. Basking in fresh flavors with a swinging aftertaste, Turner digs deep into his roots to pull out some robust bulbs of inspiration. “Chamber Music” establishes a darker, more intimate sound, beautifully cross-pollinated by piano and bass. “South Hampton” is another evocative gem with nothing to hide. Delicate yet raunchy, it finds Hart matching Iverson tit for tat.

The classic “Layla Joy” is the first of three from the bandleader, loosely rendered. The composer’s malleted drums chart a tender undercurrent while his allies fold one cellular piece of origami after another until an abstract whole is revealed. Iverson’s scratching of the piano strings and Street’s downward spiral give plenty of ink for Turner’s pen. The title track is a nostalgic tune that lays down its royal flush one well-worn card at a time. Like a burnished handle on the outer door of an old walkup, it bears the traces of decades of contact and human stories. “Naaj” is another nod to the Hart songbook. The drumming is as detailed as the reedwork is raw.

The saxophonist himself offers three tunes of his own. “Billy’s Waltz” glides on ice and is a highlight for its flexibility, seamless construction, and organic development. Iverson’s solo is pure gold. “Bo Brussels” is the freest tune, giving way to improvisational splendor. Rounding out the session is “Top of the Middle.” Turner weaves between the traffic of this urban groove without batting an eyelash. The sheer naturalness of the band’s collective sound is a splash of cold water in the face on a hot summer day.

Each musician is a star in a sky of ancient constellations. Turner carries much of the melodic weight. Meanwhile, Iverson casts the widest net. Despite not contributing any tunes, Street is an equal composer in the sound. And Hart is ever the chameleon, roaming wide while always keeping home within sight.

Lucian Ban/Mat Maneri: Transylvanian Dance (ECM 2824)

| Tyran Grillo

Lucian Ban
Mat Maneri
Transylvanian Dance

Mat Maneri viola
Lucian Ban piano
Recorded live at CJT Hall in Timișoara, October 29, 2022
Recording engineer: Utu Pascu
Mixing: Steve Lake and Michael Hinreiner (engineer)
at Bavaria Musikstudios, Munich
Cover photo: Romania farm scene, 1919 (courtesy Library of Congress, Washington)
Album produced by Steve Lake
Release date: August 30, 2024

Transylvanian Dance is the long-awaited follow-up to 2013’s Transylvanian Concert. The latter ECM debut of pianist Lucian Ban and violist Mat Maneri’s collaboration was a landmark showcasing the duo’s ability to immerse and blend in a partnership written in the stars. The present program, recorded live in October 2022 in the context of the Retracing Bartók project in Timișoara, is based entirely on songs and dances collected by Béla Bartók in Transylvania. And yet, the recapitulation of this music is more than a gesture of preservation; it’s an act of solidarity. If Ban and Maneri are archaeologists, they regard every artifact on its own terms. Rather than dust off the caked sediment, they appreciate it as a part of what the object has become.

In his liner notes for the album, Steve Lake invokes the “treasure-house,” a term used by Bartók and fellow composer Zoltán Kodáldy to describe the folksongs that may have gone lost without their efforts and one that feels duly appropriate to label the container built by these four hands. Drawing from his own experience growing up in Transylvania, Ban stains the wood with an ancestral quality, while Maneri carves adornments patterned after the imprints of far-reaching histories from within.

Open the door and take any interpretation stored a few steps beyond it, and you’re sure to find something to connect to. That being said, “Poor Is My Heart” is about as sparkling an introduction as one could hope for into this archive of still photographs come to life. To be welcomed into this space so freely is more than a privilege; it speaks to the human right of free expression against tyrannies of silence. Appropriately, the pianism is lithe yet strong, while the viola is a pliant voice that speaks of reeds and winds from bygone eras, its harmonics turning shafts of recollection into particles of real-time action. Like the title track later in the program, it keeps no secrets from us. However near or far the musicians feel, their balance of extroversion and introversion is superbly rendered. If Ban is the earth, then Maneri is the tiller of its collective memories. “Romanian Folk Dance” is another ripe harvest. Through disjointed yet natural movements, it breathes with an unsettled (but never unsettling) quality. The instruments circle each other, closing but never tightening the knot past the point of loosening.

What might seem to be a discerning focus on revelry is the oxygen for the darker flames of “Lover Mine Of Long Ago,” which treats its garments as layers of skin to be shed at will. Ban’s exploration of the piano’s inner strings, whether by plucking or muting, polishes a dowry of coins and other trinkets to be left behind with it. Meanwhile, “The Enchanted Stag” is a keening hymn in which bluesy accents bend to the will of the compass’s needle. Both “Harvest Moon Ballad” and “The Boyar’s Doina” turn the concept of the soul into a playing style. Wavering yet never faltering, each is a house creaking in the night, reminding us of the fragility of what we call home. Settling ever deeper into the ground, their candlelit windows beacons for wandering dreamers, they create a breezeway for the final song, “Make Me, Lord, Slim And Tall.” Not a single note feels wasted: percolating, germinating, and fragrant as a forest floor after the rain. With so much fertility, we can only wonder at the gifts it will yield with repeat listens.

Avishai Cohen: Ashes to Gold (ECM 2822)

| Tyran Grillo

Avishai Cohen
Ashes to Gold

Avishai Cohen trumpet, flugelhorn, flute
Yonathan Avishai piano
Barak Mori double bass
Ziv Ravitz drums
Recorded November 2022 at Studios La Buissonne, Pernes-les-Fontaines
Engineer: Gérard de Haro
Mastering: Nicolas Baillard
Production coordination: Thomas Herr
Cover: Avishai Cohen
Executive producer: Manfred Eicher
Release date: October 11, 2024

Since sewing his ECM leader debut with 2016’s Into The Silence, Avishai Cohen has reaped a unique voice as a trumpeter and composer. But in “Ashes to Gold,” the five-part suite from which his latest gets its name, we are introduced to the sound of his flute, which speaks of more harmonious times than these. Like the opening credits to a war film, it offers the dramatis personae—including pianist Yonathan Avishai, bassist Barak Mori, and drummer Ziv Ratiz—before throwing us into a battle scene from the start. In that vein, the trumpeting jolts us with its raw emotional reportage straight from the trenches.

By no stretch of metaphor, the music’s genesis took place in the aftermath of October 7, 2023, during which the chaos of war at once starved and fed Cohen’s inspiration. One week of intense writing later, the suite was born. While adding to and refining it on tour, he crafted the theme that would become the introspective Part III. Part II before it is its meditative ancestor, featuring a droning arco bass, keening brass, chanting pianism, and a heartbeat giving hope of survival beneath the debris. In the wake of Part IV, an interlude for flute and piano that turns light into shadow, the flowing conclusion finds Cohen soaring as a messenger bird with the sole remaining fragment of truth in its talons. 

Following this is the Adagio assai from Maurice Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G major, a staple in the band’s live repertoire. In this context, it serves as a lost hymn, fusing fragments of the past with the utmost attention to form. “The Seventh” (by Cohen’s daughter Amalia) provides the epilogue. Every flower that sprouts from its dying soil releases spores in the hopes that, at the very least, it might find richer land even as cities and their inhabitants fall.

It’s worth noting that the title Ashes to Gold refers to the kintsugi, the Japanese aesthetic practice of filling cracks in pottery with gold. Thus, he seals the traumatic ruptures of our humanity with music. And is that not what music does in times of unrest? It is a salve of retribution, physically applied to wounded fists closing around life itself.