ECM Releases

Jordina Millà/Barry Guy: Live in Munich (ECM 2827)

| Tyran Grillo

Jordina Millà
Barry Guy
Live in Munich

Jordina Millà piano
Barry Guy double bass
Recorded live February 2022, Schwere Reiter, Munich
Engineer: Zoro Babel
Mixing: Ferran Conangla at FCM Studio, Barcelona
Mastering: Christoph Stickel
Cover photo: Thomas Wunsch
An ECM Production
Release date: July 5, 2024

Catalan pianist Jordina Millà and British bassist Barry Guy merge creative lanes for this live 2022 performance at the Schwere Reiter hall in Munich. The two first met as participants in Barcelona’s Mixtur Festival in 2017, where Guy was tasked as composer-in-residence to put together an ensemble piece, in which Millà’s participation stood out. Although a new partnership was born, one would never think of it as such from the telepathy they so intuitively inhabit.

This successor to String Fables, their first duo album (released on the Polish label Fundacja Słuchaj in 2021), offers an even deeper sense of lucidity and nursing of detail, enhanced but never overshadowed by the engineering of their sonic kaleidoscope. Their relationship is broken into—if not unified by—six freely improvised parts. Even without familiar melodies and rhythms, the sounds are holistically accessible for their spiritedness and emotional honesty.

One thing that becomes immediate is how each musician unearths elements hidden in the other. Whereas Millà fish-hooks the percussiveness of the double bass into the foreground, Guy inspires a pizzicato sensibility in the piano. The latter’s harp-like articulations in Part I are no mere decorations but a necessarily physical language. Even in the gentlest moments, there is a feeling of total revelation. Extended techniques lend comfort to an otherwise fitful dream. The effect is such that when Millà’s fingers land on keys, they cry out with the urgency of newborns.

Part II refashions much of that restlessness into conviction. Jazzy phrases bleed through postmodern lyricism and touches of prayer, their shadow growing to glorify the sun. Part III is even more melodic and communicates like a Janáček piece for children turned inside out to reveal its darkest fables. The prepared piano of Part IV is magical realism at its finest. With Guy’s skin tracings, it forms a complete organism that steps from thought into form with all the stop-motion haunting of a Brothers Quay film. Part V is the most tense yet also the most powerful in its release, working into a droning brilliance that calms the mind. Part VI is the final exposition, bowing and plucking its way into a humble sort of mastery.

What marks this recording is its sheer presence. Nothing feels hidden or obscured; rather, it is stripped of its protections for naked scrutiny. It speaks in the stirrings of souls, if not in the breathing room between them, until life becomes a mantra unto itself.

Jarrett/Peacock/Motian: The Old Country (ECM 2828)

| Tyran Grillo

Keith Jarrett/Gary Peacock/Paul Motian
The Old Country

Keith Jarrett piano
Gary Peacock double bass
Paul Motian drums
Recorded September 16, 1992
at the Deer Head Inn
Engineer: Kent Heckman
Design: Sascha Kleis
Produced by Bill Goodwin
An ECM Production
Release date: November 8, 2024

On September 16, 1992, pianist Keith Jarrett, bassist Gary Peacock, and drummer Paul Motian graced the humble setting of the Deer Head Inn, yielding an eponymous recording that stands as a beacon in the ECM catalog writ large. Nestled in the Pocono Mountains, the venue is one of the oldest for jazz in the US, having served as a stage for live music for over seven decades. As the story goes, Jarrett gave his first performance as trio leader there in 1961 at the age of 16 and returned for this performance to commemorate the ownership’s love for genuine music making. But this was another first, as it was the only time this group was ever billed as such (although Motian had, of course, played in the pianist’s “American Quartet”). Looking back on this landmark achievement, Jarrett and producer Manfred Eicher decided to release the rest of the recording, thus giving us The Old Country.

The title track by Nat Adderley is as good a place as any to begin our walkthrough, though one could start from anywhere and feel immersed in the inimitable vibe of that special evening a third of a century ago. The band never misses a lick, Jarrett treating every improvisatory message as the seed of a new tree. The “Autumn Leaves”-esque chord progressions only underscore that metaphor. “Someday My Prince Will Come” is another head nodder. As the doyenne of sorts in his American Songbook repertoire, one from which he recedes in the present treatment sooner rather than later to give Peacock the floor, it takes on a spirit of revival.

Engaging as such turns are, it’s in the slower numbers, like the Gershwin gem “How Long Has This Been Going On” and the Jule Styne standard “I Fall In Love Too Easily,” where we get glimpses of a particular beauty that might never grace a stage again. (They are also where Motian’s colorations are most vivid.) The latter tune is a heated blanket for the soul and feels custom-built for the musicians. Just as profound as Jarrett’s unfolding of every origami motif are the pauses between them. In each, where he may or may not cry ecstatically, it’s as if he were inhaling the Milky Way before exhaling starlight for all whose paths have gone dark. Peacock’s solo is a silhouette staring through a curtain for a lover who will never appear.

Further delicacies await in Thelonious Monk’s “Straight No Chaser,” the joy of which is so effortless that it might as well be a language with its own dictionary. Jarrett’s vocalizing cuts to the quick of the melody, giving us insight into his precognitive abilities at the keyboard. The dissonant touches are superb, and the rhythm section swings a full 360 degrees from start to spirited finish. Speaking of spirited, the piano intro to Cole Porter’s “All Of You” blossoms with metaphysical detail. The resulting groove is tempered by restraint—likewise in Victor Young’s “Golden Earrings,” which is as delicate as a bubble but strong as iron. Motian carries the bulk of this atmosphere with his brushes, while Jarrett manages to be ever one step ahead yet locked into place.

None of this would feel quite so complete with the album’s opening, “Everything I Love.” This little piece of magic from Cole Porter gives us that familiar blush of establishment such as only Jarrett can render, a chord progression that reminds us of where we belong. The sentiment is as much alive today as it was then. Your heart has already heard it. Now, it’s time for your ears to catch up.

Arild Andersen Group: Affirmation (ECM 2763)

| Tyran Grillo

Arild Andersen Group
Affirmation

Marius Neset tenor saxophone
Helge Lien piano
Arild Andersen double bass
Håkon Mjåset Johansen drums
Recorded November 2021 at Rainbow Studio, Oslo
Engineer: Martin Abrahamsen
Cover photo: Thomas Wunsch
Executive producer: Manfred Eicher
Release date: October 28, 2022

At the height of the pandemic, bassist and longtime ECM veteran Arild Andersen convened a new quartet at Rainbow Studio in Oslo. Although he arrived to lay down a predetermined set list alongside tenor saxophonist Marius Neset, pianist Helge Lien, and drummer Håkon Mjåset Johansen, during the second day of recording, he suggested the idea of a group improvisation. The result is Affirmation, presented in its real-time unfolding. Despite being new territory, the feeling is downright familiar from note one, the title indicative of a mutual trust and the need for life during a time of death.

Part I stakes its claim in delicate genesis. Light cymbals resolve into glittering pianism and tender reedwork, Andersen’s quiet strength bounding through it all. In a space enhanced by reverb, otherwise fleeting gestures become entire biographical statements, each the trail of an elder gone to rest. Johansen calls ancestrally, while Neset evokes the ancient ways of Jan Garbarek. Such influences speak of a metaphysical kinship—splashes of color spinning into freer territory before hints of groove can make good on their promises. At the center of their circle is a melodic heart that beats for all.

Part II rows darker waters at first, casts Andersen in more of a listening mode, cradled in a weed-woven basket. A lively middle section finds Lien working up a frenzy, but only briefly, as tenor and bass dialogue for a spell. Everything culminates in a smooth balladic energy, lit just enough to see our way through the night. What we’re left with, then, is a benediction, a prayer, a call to quiet action for the lost and found.

At times, Andersen eerily recalls David Darling’s cello playing and Eberhard Weber’s fluid arpeggiations, but for the most part, he sounds like only he can. And so, it makes sense to finish the album with his “Short Story,” an affirmation all its own. After two hefty doses of freedom, it resonates as a hymn to the future, riding its wave of appreciation straight into the sun.

Jacob Young: Eventually (ECM 2764)

| Tyran Grillo

Jacob Young guitar
Mats Eilertsen double bass
Audun Kleive drums
Recorded May 2021 at Klokkereint Studio, Gjøvik
Engineer: Sven Andréen
Mixed by Audun Kleive and Sven Andréen
Design: Sascha Kleis
An ECM Production
Release date: May 12, 2023

Eventually is the fourth leader date from Norwegian guitarist Jacob Young, but his first trio outing. Alongside bassist Mats Eilertsen and drummer Audun Kleive, he traverses a set of nine original tunes that are as varied in dynamic and scope as they are cohesive in temperament. 

The title track opens with arpeggios and impressions, broadening into a shoreline of shifting sands. Even with this precedent in place, one honed by the individual band members’ century of musical cross-examinations between them, there is room for incisive melodizing and fresh runs across familiar terrain. A case in point is “I Told You In October,” which goes down warmly while awaiting whatever surprises the next sunrise has in store. Eilertsen flirts with blues in his solo while keeping things forthright and pure.

Continuing in that spirit, “Moon Over Meno” manages to simultaneously feel like family but also a new acquaintance. Young takes brief yet surprising turns, thinking out loud in an unpretentious display of honesty and vulnerability. Despite his trepidations with the trio format going into this project, he proves himself well-attuned to its challenges, ever buoyed by musicians anticipating his every move. With the gentlest of frictions, he brings forth small flames of beauty in his chord voicings. In that light are rendered shadow plays of quiet intensity (“One For Louis”), urban sprawl (“Schönstedtstraße,” a head-nodding standout for its spacy overdubs), and somber travels (“Northbound”). 

“The Dog Ate My Homework” is a treat not only for its tongue-in-cheek title but also for the interlock of its development. Kleive keeps just enough fuel in the tank to get us where we need to go, while Eilertsen facilitates the combustion to let Young fly. After lovingly schooling us on “The Meaning Of Joy,” we end up “Inside,” where circling motifs knit scarves against the cold from the air so we might survive the winter without fear.

As the band hangs one masterful painting after another in this intimate gallery, the core strength of the proceedings lies in Young’s composing and the depth of expression giving them life. Like a lighthouse revolving in the night, his sound embodies a place to return to and a function to serve, bringing safety to those caught in the fog of dangerous waters.

Anders Jormin/Lena Willemark: Pasado en claro (ECM 2761)

| Tyran Grillo

Anders Jormin/Lena Willemark
Pasado en claro

Anders Jormin double bass
Lena Willemark vocals, violin, viola
Karin Nakagawa 25-string koto
Jon Fält drums, percussion
Recorded December 2021 at Studio Epidemin, Gothenburg
Engineer and coproducer: Johannes Lundberg
Cover photo: Fotini Potamia
Executive producer: Manfred Eicher
Release date: January 20, 2023

Since breaking ground on 2004’s In Winds, In Light, bassist Anders Jormin and singer/violinist/violist Lena Willemark have charted old and new territories in an increasingly fertile partnership. Their collaboration reached the next stage of development when they welcomed Japanese koto player Karin Nakagawa into their midst on 2015’s Trees Of Light. To that milieu, they’ve added drummer Jon Fält, whose name will be familiar to Bobo Stenson Trio fans. Although Willemark’s roots in Swedish folk heritage and its preservation are at the core of what’s being articulated here, the improvisational packaging has been deepened. The settings touch down on the landing strips of many times and places, including poetry from ancient China and Japan, contemporary Scandinavia, Mexican luminary Octavio Paz (whose “Pasado en claro” gives us this album’s title), and Renaissance humanist Petrarch.

The latter’s Poem no. 164 from Canzoniere, the eponymous subject of “Petrarca,” flickers like a candle flame. It is one of many musical settings by Jormin, whose loose strata give his bandmates plenty of room to look for fossils and regard their shapes melodically. Long before that, “Mist of the River,” his take on Ouyang Xiu (1007-1072), opens with the gentlest shimmer of koto. The poem paints a picture of a fisherman whose cast is obscured by mist and storm, resolving into groovy textures. With the clarity of a statue, Willemark etches the scene one frame at a time until they mesh into a flowing whole. Brushed drums add jazzy touches: water and silver combined. “Glowworm” looks even further back to the 8th century. The tanka by Yamabe no Akahito, rendered here in an evocative Swedish translation, finds Willemark and Jormin’s instruments in a cloudy slumber while percussion and koto yield just enough light to see the contours of their dreams.

Most of Jormin’s tapestries are woven from more recent material. And yet, despite the brief appearance of artifice—as in Jörgen Lind’s “Blue Lamp,” which contrasts hospital buildings against a starkly natural scene—all the modern verses are steeped in an unbroken respect for the organic. This is especially true in “Kingdom of Coldness,” where the haikus of Tomas Tranströmer seep through liquid gongs and arco bass as Willemark’s voice draws maternal lines across Nakagawa’s constellations, and “Returning Wave,” where Anna Greta Wide’s words accumulate against the barrier of closed eyelids.

The remaining tracks consist of original songs by Willemark, who has her bow and throat on the pulse of something so genuinely folkloric that they seem as weathered by time as the rest. “The black sand bears your footprints / trampled by many, but seen by none,” she sings in “Ramona Elena,” forging a scene of heartache, loss, and sisterly love that demands motionless listening. “The Woman of the Long Ice” brings more of that briny sound through her fiddle as she laughs with joy at the power of music to run beneath even the most frozen waters. (This track is also a highlight for its freer playing.) Between the instrumental “Wedding Polska” and the leaping strains of “Angels,” the quartet never loses sight of its roots, which run deep and wide, sustaining forests older than us all.

Vijay Iyer: Compassion (ECM 2760)

| Tyran Grillo

Vijay Iyer
Compassion

Vijay Iyer piano
Linda May Han Oh double bass
Tyshawn Sorey drums
Recorded May 2022 at Oktaven Audio, Mount Vernon, NY
Engineer: Ryan Streber
Mixed July/August 2022
Cover photo: Jan Kricke
Produced by Vijay Iyer and Manfred Eicher
Release date: February 2, 2024

In this follow-up to 2021’s Uneasy, the debut of pianist-composer Vijay Iyer’s trio with bassist Linda May Han Oh and drummer Tyshawn Sorey, the humanity quotient has been exponentially magnified. The resulting session is a kaleidoscope of inspirations that constantly redefines itself without ever losing touch with the center. As Iyer puts it in his liner notes, “music is always about, animated by, and giving expression to the world around us: people, relations, circumstances, revelations.” We might add to this list its importance as a sacred gift of communication. In that respect, the title track looks through the world as if through eyes screened by eyelashes knitted together until now by coma. Light that once seemed quotidian and unremarkable feels so bright that it illuminates the soul. As the first in a chain of mostly originals, it speaks of the pianist’s willingness to seek revelation in his physical and spiritual travels. “Arch,” for example, references the Archbishop Desmond Tutu, a champion for abolishing apartheid in South Africa who also saw music as something we were made to enjoy. Oh’s bassing is a joy in and of itself, articulating shapes of reason in a world seemingly devoid of it. Rather than use the master’s tools, she draws her own from within. That same duality of spirit carries over into “Overjoyed” (Stevie Wonder), the choice of which was inspired by a piano loaned to Iyer that once belonged to the late Chick Corea, who had played the song as part of his final livestream before his death in 2021. The result is a meta-statement of the album’s M.O., in which the trio communes by intertwining personal histories into a collective truth. Iyer’s balance of staccato motifs in the left hand and abstract runs in the right, ever anchored by a sense of rhythm, embodies this worldview to the fullest. Oh’s solo suspends cuts an emotional snapshot into pieces and reassembles in the image of love. “Maelstrom,” “Tempest,” and “Panegyric” all come from Tempest, which is dedicated to victims of the pandemic. These pieces shower themselves in unity, catching the runoff so as not to waste even a single droplet. Nestled between them is “Prelude: Orison,” a nod to Iyer’s father that treats the expanse between stars not as an excuse to draw lines in mimicry of all that we see (or wish to see) but as an invitation to meditate. “Where I Am,” “Ghostrumental,” and “It Goes” hark to Ghosts Everywhere I Go, a 2022 ensemble project inspired by the writings of Chicago poet Eve L. Ewing. Smooth and rough textures abound in this triptych, from gliding figure-eights and groove-laden romps to the latter tune’s dawn-lit wonders. How fitting that this should have accompanied verses that saw Emmett Till as “an elder still among us, enjoying the ordinary life that should have been his.” Such is a life we should all be able to live in a world punched in the stomach daily by things even more indiscriminate than a virus. If anything, Roscoe Mitchell’s “Nonaah” (Roscoe Mitchell) is a maelstrom in which chaos breeds order. It is creation incarnate, a navigator in the swirling molecular business of survival. The double-header of “Free Spirits / Drummer’s Song” (John Stubblefield/Geri Allen) delineates a safe groove space. In it, we recognize that behind every smile is the tension of all who died to make it possible. And so, when Iyer claims, “I am no more qualified than anyone else to tell you anything new about compassion,” this is no statement of false humility but rather an honest realization that music tells us what is old about compassion, for without it, there would be no creation in which to set flame to its wick. Like the block paragraph of these words, it stands firm in the face of our temptation to parse it, resolved to be itself.

Ralph Towner: At First Light (ECM 2758)

| Tyran Grillo

Ralph Towner
At First Light

Ralph Towner classical guitar
Recorded February 2022, Auditorio Stelio Molo RSI, Lugano
Engineer: Stefano Amerio
Cover photo: Caterina Di Perri
Produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: March 31, 2023

Guitarist Ralph Towner may just be the longest-standing recording artist on ECM records. With a discography spanning over half a century, he has left indelible marks on the catalog with a sound that is as instantly recognizable as it is in a constant state of change. No matter his age (this album was recorded just shy of his 82nd birthday), he always seems to be searching for something, happy to stop and share a conversation with listeners at every bend of the road.

Making good on that characterization, “Flow” and “Strait” recapture some of his finest recordings, including 1980’s Solo Concert, with their stop-and-start cadences, underlying continuity, and Stravinsky-esque harmonies. Other nods to the past—both his own and of bygone eras—include the bright and upbeat “Guitarra Picante” (harking to his Oregon days) and show tunes by Hoagy Carmichael (“Little Old Lady”) and Jule Styne (“Make Someone Happy”). The latter was a favorite of one of Towner’s early influences, pianist Bill Evans, and finds itself geometrically rearranged in the guitarist’s signature style. With masterfully articulated exuberance, it pirouettes, sashays, and leaps without losing sight of home.

Whether passing us by in the evocative vignette of “Argentinian Nights” or languishing in the title track, Towner reacts instantly even when taking it slow. “Ubi Sunt” (a Latin “where-are” construction often used in poetry to express regret over something that has faded with time) is an especially brilliant piece in this regard. Like a basket woven in real time, it takes shape before our very ears, making full use of the classical guitar’s dynamic breadth and exploring much of its range. His interpretation of the traditional “Danny Boy” is another wonder. Just when you think this song has been unraveled and restitched more than it is worth, it reveals even deeper shades of meaning. “Fat Foot” is a kindred highlight for its airy chords and domestic charm.

The last piece is “Empty Stage,” which feels like it might have been the first recorded for this session. Yet, it is appropriately placed as a distillation of everything that precedes.

Sebastian Rochford/Kit Downes: A Short Diary (ECM 2749)

| Tyran Grillo

Sebastian Rochford
Kit Downes
A Short Diary

Seb Rochford composition, drums
Kit Downes piano
Recorded at Waverley, Aberdeen
Recording engineer: Alex Bonney
Mixed by Manfred Eicher
Michael Hinreiner, engineer
Cover photo: Clare Rochford
Album produced by Sebastian Rochford and Manfred Eicher
Release date: January 20, 2023

In 2019, Sebastian Rochford, who previously intersected with ECM on Andy Sheppard’s Trio Libero (2012), Surrounded By Sea (2015), and Romaria (2018), lost his father, Aberdeen poet Gerard Rochford. While mourning, the drummer found himself unable to staunch the melodies welling up from within. Recorded in collaboration with pianist Kit Downes at his childhood home in Scotland, A Short Diary reapproaches that music in dedication to his family and the man whose absence left an unfillable chasm. He then approached producer Manfred Eicher, who mixed and brought the album to fruition.

Despite the heartache that permeates “This Tune Your Ears Will Never Hear,” it opens with bursts of light as if to fight off the darkness of death. This feeling continues throughout, even in titles one might not expect, such as “Night Of Quiet.” Rather than slumbering away peacefully, it sits lucidly awake, opening the curtain of memory to reveal the sunlit scenes of “Love You Grampa,” wherein a tender nostalgia takes over, expressed in interlocking pianism and sewn by needle (snare) and threads (cymbals). Downes opens one photo album after another, discovering as much as Rochford about his history. “Silver Light” is the most poignant, its underlying pulse brushing past as an elusive reflection in the window.

In those asides where Downes is alone (namely, “Communal Decisions” and “Our Time Is Still”), the walls of the room close in. Like a mobile turning above a crib by the force of a baby’s breath, he moves in concert with life itself. This feeling is most foregrounded in “Ten Of Us” (a reference to Rochford and his nine siblings). Its slightly dissonant staircase leads us into the attic, drawn to the histories buried in its chests of toys, boxes of old books, and piles of clothes. Trying his best not to unsettle the dust with his footfalls, Rochford builds a gentle yet mountingly declarative hymn of survival.

Everything funnels into “Even Now I Think Of Her.” Rochford explains: “It’s a tune my dad had sung into his phone and sent me. I forwarded this to Kit. He listened, and then we started.” This swing hangs from a tree, overlooking a windswept field as the last remnant of green after cataclysm. It weeps, closing hands around nothing notions of what could have been. Thus baptized by mortality, lowered into a font of stillness, it gives up the ghost and shreds the present into countless pieces.

Throughout A Short Diary, each note births the possibility of others waiting to be heard. As one of the most touching recordings to come out on ECM this century, it is pure, sonic humanity. Despite (if not because of) being so personal, I dare say you could pull on any thread sticking out from it and find one in your own heart that matches.

Wolfert Brederode: Ruins and Remains (ECM 2734)

| Tyran Grillo

Wolfert Brederode
Ruins and Remains

Wolfert Brederode piano
Matangi Quartet
Maria-Paula Majoor violin
Daniel Torrico Menacho violin
Karsten Kleijer viola
Arno van der Vuurst violoncello
Joost Lijbaart drums, percussion
Recorded August 2021 at Sendesaal, Bremen
Engineer: Stefano Amerio
Cover: Mayo Bucher
Produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: September 23, 2022

For his fourth ECM album as leader, Wolfert Brederode returns with Ruins and Remains. This suite for piano, string quartet, and percussion, the result of a commission marking the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I, telescopes the seemingly insurmountable distance between horror and hope.

While such a backstory might seem a pivot for the Dutch pianist, thematic connections are drawable to his past work. From the association-rich wanderings of Currents to the patient grooves of Black Ice, he has consistently demonstrated an awareness of time as a physical substance. In Post Scriptum between them, he was already exploring suite-like structures around questions of the human condition.

The present record takes elements from all that came before and bonds them with something so intangible that only a microphone can capture and amplify it: history. To that end, he ticks our path with four signposts entitled “Ruins.” With their cold expanse and cautious navigations, they trace the movements of those who have fallen in places where hands cannot reach and only the heart may tread.

In “Swallow,” Brederode and his fellow musicians sift through the rubble for something salvageable: a ring, a photograph, perhaps a gold-capped tooth that once served as a runway for speech. The Matangi Quartet speaks in the language of the past, dreaming of better times when violence was something one only read about in storybooks. Meanwhile, percussionist Joost Lijbaart reveals glints of the future. Along the way, Brederode emotes very much in the present, holding close to lessons on the verge of fading. With these in mind, titles like “Cloudless” and “Dissolve” feel as much like descriptors of what we hear as what they evoke. The resonance of these passages tells stories in which we can have no part, each walking a bridge that must collapse. In this regard, “Retrouvailles” comes across as a false promise, a moment in time expanded to show the scars it would otherwise gloss over.

Although musical details rise into prominence, including the plucked piano strings of “Ka,” the rolling snare of “Nothing for Granted,” and the cello’s sagacious presence across the waves, a holistic mise-en-scène pervades. Like the blush of “Duhra,” it strikes a glow where mostly darkness has taken hold, a film without a screen.

The music’s openness to change is part of what makes it real. As death becomes written and rewritten, our souls adapt to its language. And as it heeds the horizon’s beckoning, we are given a choice: follow or turn away.