Jazz

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.

Dominic Miller: Vagabond (ECM 2704)

| Tyran Grillo

Dominic Miller
Vagabond

Dominic Miller guitar
Jacob Karlzon piano, keyboard
Nicolas Fiszman bass
Ziv Ravitz drums
Recorded April 2021 at Studio La Buissonne, Pernes-les-Fontaines
Engineer: Gérard de Haro
Mastering: Nicolas Baillard
Cover photo: Fotini Potamia
Produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: April 21, 2023

For his third ECM outing, guitarist Dominic Miller brings quiet ferocity and lyrical precision to this quartet setting with pianist Jacob Karlzon, bassist Nicolas Fiszman, and drummer Ziv Ravitz, opening our ears to newer and even deeper terrains across a set of eight original itineraries.

In a statement for the album’s press release, he says, “Thanks to the amazing singers I’ve worked with over the years, I see myself more as an instrumental songwriter. And as they do, I see it my mission to surround myself with the best musicians who understand the narratives in the ‘songs.’ I’m happy to have assembled the right lineup here with Vagabond.” And in “All Change,” we hear that ethos played out. The rhythm section opens itself to Miller’s acoustic timekeeping while the piano smoothes the waters to ensure this vessel sails uninterrupted until it reaches its first port of call. Miller’s overlay brings fresh intimacy, capturing frames of a stop-motion memory.

Across the cinematic horizon of “Cruel But Fair,” an underlying breath of synthesizer kindles the hearth of Miller’s acoustic. A collective atmosphere reigns supreme, each musician contributing to a scene as it curls into shape around people, places, and things. Such associations collaborate in the music as much as those assembled in the studio to articulate them. Miller himself points to southern France, which he has called home in recent years, for inspiration. Whereas “Vaugines” refers to a small village he has frequented on his walks, “Clandestin” is a hidden bar where stories abound. The latter’s interplay reveals the most space between instruments, allowing for an unguarded swagger. To my ears, it feels anything but covert.

Such is the ability of Vagabond to open its borders to our psychological refugees. For example, while “Open Heart” is easily interpreted as an image of generosity, to me, it evokes the darkly inward period I faced when my father suffered a nearly fatal heart attack in December of 2023 (the main reason why I’ve posted so little since then). All the more fitting, then, that Miller should include an ode to his own father, “Mi Viejo,” an unaccompanied offering of intimate magnitude.

The delicacy of this music is also its strength. A case in point is “Altea,” the airy underpinnings of which give the trio plenty of fertilizer to work into the soil. What grows from it is lush yet variegated enough to let those precious rays of sunlight through. Lastly, “Lone Waltz” moves from stasis to momentum. Like a boat chasing the setting sun, it finds solace in the waves.

If we started with the notion of having to get somewhere, we end without quite knowing where that might be.

Mike Gibbs/Gary Burton: In the Public Interest

| Tyran Grillo

Mike Gibbs/Gary Burton
In the Public Interest

Michael Gibbs composer, arranged, conducted, producer
Gary Burton vibraphone, producer
Randy Brecker trumpet, flugelhorn
Marvin Stamm trumpet, flugelhorn
Pat Stout trumpet, flugelhorn
Jeff Stout trumpet, flugelhorn
Michael Brecker tenor and soprano saxophones
Harvey Wainapel alto and soprano saxophones
Paul Moen tenor and soprano saxophones, flute
Bill Watrous trombone
Wayne Andre trombone
Paul Falise bass trombone
Dave Taylor bass trombone, tuba
George Ricci cello (1,2,3)
Alan Schulman cello (4,5,6,7)
Pat Rebillot electric piano, organ
Allan Zavod piano, electric piano
Mick Goodrick guitar
Steve Swallow bass
Warren Smith percussion
Harry Blazer drums (1,2,3)
Bob Moses drums (4,5,6,7) 
Recorded at Electric Lady Studios, NY, June 25/26, 1973
Engineer: Dave Palmer
Mixed at Tonstudio Bauer, Ludwigsburg, West Germany, August 20/21, 1973
Mixing engineers: Kurt Rapp and Martin Wieland
Recording supervisor: Manfred Eicher

It has been well over a year since I’ve had enough time and energy to devote to this site. Now that I am back to posting regularly, in addition to catching up on ECM’s latest releases, I am resuming my quest to review every rarity I can find that may intrigue fans of the label. In that spirit, my readers sometimes do the finding for me, bringing things to my attention that I might otherwise have missed completely. Case in point is this out-of-print gem by way of Detrik, who dropped it in the comments, where it lingered for nine months before I gave it a spin. At last, I can offer my own.

Recorded in the summer of 1973 at Electric Lady Studios in New York and released a year later on Polydor, it bears the fingerprints of contemporaneous ECM productions. Manfred Eicher supervised the recording, which was mixed at Tonstudio Bauer by Kurt Rapp and Martin Wieland, the dream team behind Music From Two Basses. In this session, they render a rounded yet punchy sound.

Written, produced, and conducted by Mike Gibbs, In the Public Interest features a 21-piece band consisting of a robust brass section flanked by such heavyweights as saxophonist Mike Brecker, bassist Steve Swallow, guitarist Mick Goodrick, and drummer Bob Moses.

The A side begins appropriately with “The Start of Something Similar.” As the piano and vibes play in unison, dissonant brass gives rise to the theme before drifting into an atmospheric lull and back again. From this, one might expect a dreamier experience, but with “Four or Less,” it becomes obvious that reality abounds even when the musicians are at their most cerebral. Prominent now is the cello of George Ricci, who puts one rock into this stone soup for every two vegetables floating on top, Goodrick and pianist Allan Zavod stoking the fire until it all boils over in a free-for-all. Next is “Dance: Blue,” where groove is the name of the game. The horns evoke the colors of a 70s TV show (and all the associations that might come to mind with that image). Their carefree, youthful, seamless sound mellows as it goes, building a restrained strength in stretching out the theme.

After such a workout, it’s only fair that we are given a breather as we turn over to the B side, where “To Lady Mac: In Memory” awaits our ears.

A blistering flower of evocation, it features a soprano saxophone fluttering through heat waves of vibraphone on the way to “Family Joy, Oh Boy.” With weighty exuberance, this album highlight spotlights Burton in world-class form, navigating the maze laid out for him so adroitly by Swallow and Moses, who also share a savory dialogue. Lastly, the title tune, with its gentle carpet of vibraphone, electric piano, and cello, and “To Lady Mac: In Sympathy,” with its blushing skin, make for an easy offramp into contemplation.

In the Public Interest is an album of witty contrasts, thoughtful execution, confident melodies, and great charm. Listen to it here:

Benjamin Lackner: Last Decade (ECM 2736)

| Tyran Grillo

Benjamin Lackner
Last Decade

Benjamin Lackner piano
Mathias Eick trumpet
Jérôme Regard double bass
Manu Katché drums
Recorded September 2021 at Studios La Buissonne, Pernes-les-Fontaines
Engineer: Gérard de Haro
Mastering: Nicolas Baillard
Cover photo: Woong Chul An
Produced by Manfred Eicher
Release date: October 14, 2022

Benjamin Lackner makes a soft yet profound splash on Last Decade, his ECM debut. With Mathias Eick on trumpet, Jérôme Regard on bass, and Manu Katché on drums, the German-American pianist lays the groundwork for a quartet of wide imagination, forging a new relationship that is sure to grow over the next decade.

Lackner’s compositions are fertile ground for his bandmates. “Where Do We Go From Here” plants rows of seeds from the start, watering them in the same breath. Eick’s lyricism is given plenty of breathing room while the rhythm section snakes its way along like a shadow over rock and river. This mood (and mode) will be familiar to many ECM listeners, taking two steps inward for each outward.

But then, something happens as Katché’s groove in “Circular Confidence” opens up a much wider vista. Trading introspection for charity, it imbues Regard’s bassing with a lithe spirit as Lackner flips the landscape like the page of a book to reveal side quests galore. Foremost among them in Eick’s sojourn into distant cities and towns. Rather than bring us souvenirs, he returns with a travelogue. More tractions await in the enigmatically titled “Hung Up On That Ghost,” wherein Katché and Regard tessellate with unforced enchantment. Lackner and Eick give faith to form, the latter’s wordless vocals emblematic of a larger unity at play.

Although Lackner is more accustomed to solo and trio settings, Eick keeps in step as a natural ally. Lifting and lowering throughout “Camino Cielo,” he paints their relationship in streaks of gold and silver, his light as much a partner in the music as what is obscured by proxy. The title track is another collective journey marked by subtly daring harmonies and family memories. So, too, is the closing “My People.” Its staggered 11/4 time signature gives the listener plenty to meditate on.

Between them are three briefer excursions. Whereas “Remember This” is for the trio alone and finds Katché exchanging delicacies, “Open Minds Lost” offers the band’s fullest statement. All that remains is “Émile,” a freely improvised solo from Regard named after his son. Like the album as a whole, it pulls at the threads of life and weaves from them a tapestry of stories to be preserved for those who will outlive us.