Jazz

Jan Garbarek: I Took Up The Runes (ECM 1419)

| Tyran Grillo

Jan Garbarek
I Took Up The Runes

Jan Garbarek soprano and tenor saxophones
Rainer Brüninghaus piano
Eberhard Weber bass
Nana Vasconcelos percussion
Manu Katché drums
Bugge Wesseltoft synthesizer
Ingor Ántte Áilu Gaup voice
Recorded August 1990 at Rainbow Studio, Oslo
Engineer: Jan Erik Kongshaug
Produced by Manfred Eicher

By 1990, Jan Garbarek had for decades been searching for that one key, navigating a landscape of peaks and valleys, only to find it slumbering within the runes which, with this album, he eponymously took up. A snaking version of Mari Boine Persen’s “Gula Gula” outlines the album’s perfectly proportioned ritual space for a sound that has come to define the Norwegian saxophonist’s output since. With Runes his tone had achieved a luminescence that fell like liquid onto the keyboard of Rainer Brüninghaus.

Balancing note and movement, Garbarek hones something truly special in the five-part “Molde Canticle,” which draws out the album’s deepest anatomies. Above all, the piece is about time. It speaks in a language that moves us. The gyroscopic quality of Part 2 hums around the centrifugal force of Garbarek’s lyricism as he scales ever higher. Part 3 features a singsong solo from bassist Eberhard Weber, who elicits bird-like harmonics from the soft glide of his bow. These enchantments are but a prelude to a round of wind and pianistic musings. Part 4 is a more rhythmic showcase (percussionist Nana Vasconcelos’s influence is also clear on tracks like “Buena Hora, Buenos Vientos”), and features some heavy blowing from Garbarek, at once whimsical and weighty, while Part 5 finds him weaving a simple wave over a harp-like ostinato.

These melodies all have the makings of folk songs (sometimes the other way around, as in “His Eyes Were Suns”), so vivid is each in its evocation of peoples and traditions. The title track is a more groove-oriented spectacle and finds Garbarek freeing himself even further. This leaves only “Rahkki Sruvvis,” another chanting piece with some overdubbed saxes for a final skyward glance.

Many have criticized Garbarek for going soft. I Took Up The Runes proves that he has simply channeled that dynamic energy through different rivulets of intensity. Like smoke, they need fire to soar, but fire in its natural state requires time and care to catch.

A masterpiece.

<< John Surman: Road To Saint Ives (ECM 1418)
>> Keith Jarrett Trio: Tribute (ECM 1420/21)

John Surman: Road To Saint Ives (ECM 1418)

| Tyran Grillo

 

John Surman
Road To Saint Ives

John Surman bass clarinet, soprano and baritone saxophones, keyboards, percussion
Recorded April 1990 at Rainbow Studio, Oslo
Engineer: Jan Erik Kongshaug
Produced by Manfred Eicher

Although we might feel tempted to take Road To Saint Ives, one of John Surman’s most stunning solo albums to date, as a portrait of its titular coastal town, Surman states in his liner notes that such is not the case. Aside from the peppering of folk-inspired melodies in the soprano solos, the music breaks its own ground on the way toward unique improvisatory continents. Among those solos, “Polperro” makes for a transportive opener, while the echo effect of “Perranporth” dances on a cloud of whimsy. These solos are the heart of everything that makes Surman such a listeners’ gift. Their quality of tone and pitch speaks of the supremely nuanced command he has over his instruments. Each has the makings of antiquity blown through its core, as if webs of time were being pulled into all-encompassing songs. Surman is likewise a master of the miniature, as exemplified by the album’s shortest track, “Trethevy Quoit,” in which a crunchy flock of low reeds sounds one of the most memorable congregations in the program. Building up from these are the ensemble pieces in which he overdubs a chain of settings. From Michael Nyman-esque forest walks (“Rame Head”) to flirtations with his favored sequencer (“Mevagissey”), he explores the contours of the most lyrical baritone one can imagine. One moment we are gliding through a classic sci-fi cityscape while the next finds us skirting the edge of a piano-infused drone (“Bodmin Moor”). And one can hardly ignore the multifaceted sound of his bass clarinet, which floats playfully on every ripple of “Piperspool” but which weeps liquid gold against the prayerful organ of “Tintagel.” Surman’s lyricism seems to mourn the extent of its own beauty in this, his deepest nod. So too may we lose ourselves in gamelan feel of “Bedruthan Steps,” where that unmistakable soprano darts in and out of every temple as if the entire complex were but an ocean reef, every note a fish that swims its coves as nature itself must breathe.

Like all of Surman’s solo albums, this is a dream made real.

<< Kenny Wheeler Quintet: The Widow In The Window (ECM 1417)
>> Jan Garbarek: I Took Up The Runes (ECM 1419)

Kenny Wheeler Quintet: The Widow In The Window (ECM 1417)

| Tyran Grillo

Kenny Wheeler Quintet
The Widow In The Window

Kenny Wheeler fluegelhorn, trumpet
John Abercrombie guitar
John Taylor piano
Dave Holland bass
Peter Erskine drums
Recorded February 1990 at Rainbow Studio, Oslo
Engineer: Jan Erik Kongshaug
Produced by Manfred Eicher

One month after the crowning success of his Music For Large & Small Ensembles, trumpeter/composer Kenny Wheeler gathered a handful of stars therefrom—namely, guitarist John Abercrombie, pianist John Taylor, bassist Dave Holland, and drummer Peter Erskine—into this more succinct yet equally classic date. Abercrombie lays down a particularly soulful beauty in the opening “Aspire,” the first in a program of six Wheeler originals, and sends the frontman’s uncompromising insights into thoughtful ether with the stretch of a trampoline. A solo of sweeping intimacy from Taylor showcases further sensitivity among a quintet so attuned that it might as well be doing this while asleep. We do, of course, find ourselves wide awake in the dazzling light of “Ma Belle Hélène.” One by one, Abercrombie unwraps his charms like the sonic candies they are. Wheeler, meanwhile, adds feathers to the session’s growing wings, uncorking a rush of unbridled melody that elicits one of Holland’s most heartfelt solos on record against some of the cleverest cymbals in the business. A graceful pass from Taylor puts the waxen seal on this love letter to sunlit streets and alleyways. The title track begins with a longing cry from Wheeler, who finds in its descending motives a narrative of spun of cloth and time. Profundity abounds in this solo-sphere, Holland especially drawing inimitable shapes into the fogged mirror of memory, wiping away melancholy away as if it were a dust bunny blown out of sight by a sigh. “Ana” receives a more nuanced treatment here than it did on Wheeler’s outing with the Berlin Contemporary Jazz Orchestra. That same modal intro speaks, sounding more than ever like a soundtrack to a film yet to be made. After a theme articulated in shadows, Erskine and Taylor turn to the light. Abercrombie positively dances on air and, along with Wheeler, carries us into the depths of hope. The swinging “Hotel Le Hot” finds the latter at his bubbling best, cresting the flames of surrender with every squeal. This cut is also noticeable for Erskine’s dizzying flavors. “Now, And Now Again” ends things in a gently rocking cradle for which Wheeler lays on the lyricism thick. Taylor charts the earth where once he stepped, where in his place now hovers only a sonorous ghost of what used to be.

Those who count themselves a fan of Wheeler, ECM, or boundary-crossing jazz in general can chalk this one as unmissable.

<< Kenny Wheeler: Music For Large & Small Ensembles (ECM 1415/16)
>> John Surman: Road To Saint Ives (ECM 1418)

Kenny Wheeler: Music For Large & Small Ensembles (ECM 1415/16)

| Tyran Grillo

Kenny Wheeler
Music For Large & Small Ensembles

Kenny Wheeler fluegelhorn, trumpet
John Abercrombie guitar
John Taylor piano
Dave Holland bass
Peter Erskine drums
Norma Winstone vocal
Derek Watkins trumpet
Henry Lowther trumpet
Alan Downey trumpet
Ian Hamer trumpet
Dave Horler trombone
Chris Pyne trombone
Paul Rutherford trombone
Hugh Fraser trombone
Ray Warleigh saxophones
Duncan Lamont saxophones
Evan Parker saxophones
Julian Argüelles saxophones
Stan Sulzmann tenor saxophone, flute
Recorded January and February 1990 at CTS Studio, London (Large Ensembles) and Rainbow Studio, Oslo (Small Ensembles)
Engineer: Jan Erik Kongshaug
Produced by Manfred Eicher

Canadian trumpeter Kenny Wheeler had been writing for jazz orchestra for three decades before this recording, criminally the only of its kind widely available at the time, was released. With a cast list (mostly veterans of the London jazz scene) to make one swoon, ECM’s first release of the 1990s raised the bar on production, arrangement, composition, and musicianship that had been the label’s prime tenets since its inception in 1969.

It’s easy to praise Wheeler as player, but on Music For Large & Small Ensembles we are given a smorgasbord of his delectable talents as composer. This massive two-disc set begins with The Sweet Time Suite in eight parts. While the cradle of horns in which it opens sounds more like a closing, it is nevertheless coaxing and lovely. In Part II, however, we are introduced to the album’s major running thread: namely, the voice of Norma Winstone, who provides a crystal lining to every motif and, along with guitarist John Abercrombie, adds a Pat Metheny-like charm to many of the darker hues. The roundedness thereof is offset by the added punch of horns, giving us something doubly engaging. Stan Sulzmann’s heady tenor floats up and down the improvisatory ladder with unbound attention and primes us for Winstone’s unparalleled tintinnabulations in Part III. Although Part IV bears dedication to baritone saxophonist Pepper Adams, it’s Evan Parker’s tenor that gets all the attention. Walking a fiery tightrope woven of guitar and cymbals, he navigates a swinging rhythm section toward Dave Holland’s quiet solo at the bass—an exemplary display of dynamic control into the sultry ending. Part V is another audible smile that features fine commentary from pianist John Taylor. Abercrombie’s own sensitive turn opens like an embrace warmed by sunshine. Winstone fashions Part VI into a lullaby, wafting through the air like a folk song into the thermals of altoist Ray Warleigh’s stunning flight. Part VII starts with what at first appears to be unnecessary distraction, only to reveal a profound dialogue between Peter Erskine’s drumming and the round of solos that embraces it. Wheeler’s fluegelhorn is especially engaging here and carries us with quiet confidence into a plush finish.

The second disc is a hefty selection of standalone originals. Of these, the opening “Sophie” is perhaps Wheeler’s finest. The pianism here shines like the sun alongside the joyous cymbal work. But it is the gorgeous baritone solo from Julian Argüellas, along with Wheeler’s own distinctive song, that truly makes this a standout in the collection. It is heavy yet flowing, dancing like fire without the threat of destruction. “Sea Lady” awakens with Parker’s avian reeds, sounding like a Philip Glass riff gone beautifully awry, and brings Winstone’s tender words into the mix at last. Through these she unties a knot with unrequited love and steeps its expectations in shadow. Abercrombie’s own ruminations presage Sulzmann’s forlorn twittering on flute and Wheeler’s vivid narrative. “Gentle Piece” is exactly that, all the more so for Holland’s soft spots and Taylor’s unobtrusive wanderings. Winstone’s lilting motives, wordless yet ever meaningful, speak like the voice of the sun in a dream without light. Another memorable alto solo from Warleigh promises wakefulness before the outro. The album’s remainder is taken up by two phenomenal trio conversation pieces with Wheeler, Holland, and Erskine, and a series of duets between Erskine and Taylor before closing out on the 10.5-minute masterpiece, “By Myself.” Abercrombie jumps through every hoop spun before him, setting off an enlivening round of solos that brings us into Wheeler’s final gesture of exuberance, by which he successfully concludes one of the most ambitious projects of his career.

Music For Large & Small Ensembles offers lush insight into one of jazz’s most exciting musical minds. This is music at the peak of ripeness, bearing fruit for all. It also boasts some of Steve Lake’s best liner notes, which make the physical product worth far more than any digital download available.

<< Edward Vesala: Ode To The Death Of Jazz (ECM 1413)
>> Kenny Wheeler Quintet: The Widow In The Window (ECM 1417)

Edward Vesala: Ode To The Death Of Jazz (ECM 1413)

| Tyran Grillo

Edward Vesala
Ode To The Death Of Jazz

Matti Riikonen trumpet
Jorma Tapio alto saxophone, bass clarinet, flute
Jouni Kannisto tenor saxophone, flute
Pepa Päivinen soprano, tenor and baritone saxophones, flute, clarinet, bass clarinet
Tim Ferchen marimba, tubular bells
Taito Vainio accordion
Iro Haarla piano, harp, keyboards
Jimi Sumen guitar
Uffe Krokfors bass
Edward Vesala drums
Recorded April/May 1989 at Sound and Fury Studio, Helsinki
Engineer: Jimi Sumen
Produced by Manfred Eicher and Vesala

If jazz is a body, then Edward Vesala is its ligament of fascination. Flexing and creaking with the passage of emotion into life and life into silence, the drummer’s disarming soundscapes never fail to intrigue, to say something potent and new. In spite of its tongue-in-cheek title (I cannot imagine Vesala trying to make a grand statement here), Ode To The Death Of Jazz is, strangely, one of his more uplifting exercises in sonic production.

The title of “Sylvan Swizzle” sets the bar in both tone and sentiment, opening in a smooth and winding road of flute, woodwinds, percussion, and harp. Textural possibilities bear the fruit of the ensemble’s explorations in somatic sound: an exercise in pathos, to be sure, if only through the eyes of something not human. The space here is dark yet flecked with iridescence, sporting yet bogged down by infirmity, vivacious yet weak in the eyes. With every change of title comes a change of scenery. “Infinite Express” thus moves us out of those caves and onto an evening dance floor populated by the demimonde of the upper crust. As the big band plays, each socialite shares with the other what it does not have in itself. The pliant reed work and watery splash (the album’s greatest moment) make for an unexpected give and take. “Time To Think” is both a question and its answer. Vesala constantly redefines its brooding atmosphere with subtle commentary. A mystical solo piano works its way through these tides, giving us pause for reflection. The bizarre call and response that opens “Winds Of Sahara” gives way to a distorted train ride through landscapes both electronic and acoustic, its Elliott Sharp vibe on point. The metallic drones and throated horns of “Watching For The Signal” thread tree branches whose leaves rustle like detuned guitars in the forest’s harp music. This beautiful track is one of Vesala’s finest and should reward the listener who has struggled thus far. “A Glimmer Of Sepal” is another fascinating detour. Featuring an accordion wrapped in the embrace of a tango dipped in the consequence of regret, it harbors in its nest of shadows not eggs but glimmers of light in a time when desperation calls for sanity. “Mop Mop” is the set’s requisite dose of whimsy and comes off like an Art Ensemble of Chicago outing, replete with percussive asides and an electronic seasoning packet thrown in for good measure. Last is “What? Where? Hum Hum,” which drops us headfirst into an old jazz scene, where lace and bowties shed their skins as the night presses on. The sax solo wrenches out its emotional hang-ups and throws them to the dance floor to bleed, wither, and go still.

Whether or not Ode signals the death of jazz or any other genre is moot, for it has been speaking its own language the entire time. That being said, and despite the evocative associations the album has inspired in me, it does seem somewhat restrained as Vesala efforts go (and maybe this is the point). The real strength here, though, is the fine interweaving of electronics in a relatively large group setting. Vesala newbies will want to start with the masterful tides of Nan Madol before holding this conch shell to their ears.

<< Walter Fähndrich: Viola (ECM 1412 NS)
>> Kenny Wheeler: Music For Large & Small Ensembles (ECM 1415/16)

John Abercrombie: Animato (ECM 1411)

| Tyran Grillo

John Abercrombie
Animato

John Abercrombie guitar, guitar synthesizer
Jon Christensen drums, percussion
Vince Mendoza synthesizers
Recorded October 1989 at Rainbow Studio, Oslo
Engineer: Jan Erik Kongshaug
Produced by Manfred Eicher

Despite the fact of John Abercrombie headlining this curious little album called Animato, the finished product is a real showcase for drummer Jon Christensen and synthesizer virtuoso Vince Mendoza. The latter, who wrote the bulk of the album’s music (the only exceptions being the group improv that begins the set and the Jon Hassell-esque strains of Abercrombie’s “Bright Reign”), fleshes out some of the strokes Abercrombie was already beginning to paint with his synth augmentations in years past. Still, the guitarist is a major melodic force on this date. Where “Right Now” rises from the depths with the torch in his hands, swirling around a fiery center, self-contained yet extroverted, “Single Moon” floats his tenderness over a bass of electronic goodness. Like a skilled R&B singer, he plumbs the ballad to new depths, each new stratum accentuated by the warmth and timeless energy of Mendoza’s tasteful atmospheres. In this vein, the sequencer qualities of “Agitato” make for a bed of ashes from which the guitar rises like a phoenix and duets with drums in powerful conversation amid gorgeous synth lines and a classically inflected refrain. After the swelling interlude of “First Light” we come into the bubbling abstractions of “Last Light,” in which Abercrombie dances like fire on water. The darkly anthemic “For Hope Of Hope” is an audible mirage throughout which Christensen proves a fantastic painter of colors, even as Mendoza deepens them in a continuous pall of time and narrative experience. We end with a lullaby in “Ollie Mention.” This is perhaps Abercrombie at his most sensitive yet somehow spirited as he tumbles over comforting waves into the final recession of the tide.

The inclusion of Mendoza on this album was a stroke of genius. On the one hand he is an extension of what Abercrombie already implies, while on the other he emotes with such distinctness that one feels the session pushed to new territories with every touch. Together these musicians bring a storyteller’s art to wordless songs, hollowing a vein of shadow through which the blood of dreams runs bright.

<< Dave Holland Quartet: Extensions (ECM 1410)
>> Walter Fähndrich: Viola (ECM 1412 NS)

Dave Holland Quartet: Extensions (ECM 1410)

| Tyran Grillo

 

Dave Holland Quartet
Extensions

Dave Holland bass
Steve Coleman alto saxophone
Kevin Eubanks guitar
Marvin “Smitty” Smith drums
Recorded September 1989, Power Station, New York
Engineer: James Farber
Produced by Manfred Eicher

If you’re like me, then you’re most familiar with this album’s rhythm section from The Tonight Show with Jay Leno. From 1995 to 2006, guitarist Kevin Eubanks and drummer Marvin “Smitty” Smith were the anchors for said program’s house band. I always knew that Eubanks was a talented musician but felt that his insights were often lost in the muddled acoustics of the NBC studio in which they were situated. These conditions also boded ill, in most cases, for the show’s musical acts. In addition, for the most part Eubanks had his distortion turned high in order to achieve a certain brand of punctuation in his bantering with Leno, but I sometimes noticed that when returning from a commercial break he would be finishing a smooth jazz number, the brilliance of which I could only guess at. It wasn’t until I heard Extensions that I realized just how deep that brilliance goes.

Eubanks astounds at every turn of Extensions. Having penned the opening and closing tracks, he has the first and last word on things and brings to the in-between a certain majesty to the scope of his improvisatory paths. His “Nemesis” starts things off just right, giving way from barely plucked stirrings to the controlled vigor of altoist Steve Coleman’s left side drive. Not to be outdone, of course, are Smith and the album’s leader (though you wouldn’t know it from Holland’s many gracious nods to these younger trailblazers), whose interactions give Coleman just the lift he needs to soar with a blistering yet somehow nonabrasive sound. A toffee crisp solo from Eubanks paints here in leaps and somersaults, each a tight circle of deftly contained energy.

Holland himself gives us two tracks, of which “Processional” is the most sumptuous. This arid groove finds the bassist stepping lightly, making way for a starlit solo from Eubanks. Holland opens “The Oracle” with a line so delicate, it almost sounds like a classical guitar. The subtlety of Smith’s stylings at the kit and Eubanks’s bird-like calls work themselves through the curling plumes of windswept dunes, leaving a sonorous trail of footsteps that is redrawn as quickly as it is buried. This nearly 15-minute cut is the highlight of the album and should make a Eubanks believer out of anyone. Holland’s almost spiritually minded solo, detailed like a prayer, still conveys an unparalleled wanderlust before Coleman draws a trail of fire into the refrain. His two tunes, “Black Hole” and “101° Fahrenheit (Slow Meltdown),” are respectively funky and sultry, the latter unveiling fan-chopped smoke and alleys littered with wasted opportunities, singing of a time when one could forget them all in an amber bottle.

The closer, “Color Of Mind,” sports one of Holland’s catchiest bass lines and another astonishing dialogue from Eubanks. It also gives us some downtime with Holland along with Smith, who turns up the heat a notch or two into a sparkling close.

This album is a coming of age in an age of becoming. If ECM’s Touchstones series, of which this is a part, had its own Touchstones, this would be one of them.

<< Berlin Contemporary Jazz Orchestra: s/t (ECM 1409)
>> John Abercrombie: Animato (ECM 1411)

Berlin Contemporary Jazz Orchestra: s/t (ECM 1409)

| Tyran Grillo

ECM 1409Berlin Contemporary Jazz Orchestra

Benny Bailey trumpet
Thomas Heberer trumpet
Henry Lowther trumpet
Kenny Wheeler trumpet, fluegelhorn
Paul van Kemenade alto saxophone
Felix Wahnschaffe alto saxophone
Gerd Dudek soprano and tenor saxophones, clarinet, flute
Walter Gauchel tenor saxophone
E. L. Petrowsky baritone saxophone
Willem Breuker baritone saxophone, bass clarinet
Henning Berg trombone
Hermann Breuer trombone
Hubert Katzenbeier trombone
Utz Zimmermann bass trombone
Aki Takase piano
Günter Lenz bass
Ed Thigpen drums
Misha Mengelberg piano
Alexander von Schlippenbach conductor
Recorded May 1989 at Studio 10, RIAS Berlin
Engineer: Sören Pehrs
Produced by RIAS Berlin and ECM

The Berlin Contemporary Jazz Orchestra was begun in 1988 as the brainchild of Alexander von Schlippenbach. A decorated composer and student of B. A. Zimmermann, Schlippenbach is perhaps best known as the founder of the Globe Unity Orchestra, which spurred the 1960s jazz scene into the first of many influential phases. This self-titled album is the BCJO’s group’s debut, recorded when the outfit was all of a year old, and features a stunning array of musicians, including trumpeter Kenny Wheeler, reed man and flutist Gerd Dudek, baritone saxophonist E. L. Petrowsky, bass clarinetist Willem Breuker, and pianist Misha Mengelberg.

The set is a triptych of moods and configurations, of which the first, Ana, comes to us from the mind of Kenny Wheeler. From the somber piano intro, one might think a Keith Jarrett solo concert was in store. This illusion is quickly banished by the wealth of instrumental forces at hand. With horns taking the upper range and arco bass the lower, drums ride the outer circle while a hefty trombone strings along some rounded hits from the band. Between the deftly woven brass tapestry and beautiful solo turn from pianist (and wife of Schlippenbach) Aki Takase, Wheeler dominates the solo-sphere —that is, until Petrowsky’s tenor throws some much-needed fuel into the fire. This slides into an upbeat bridge before ending on a free-for-all and a sparkling piano flourish.

The album’s remainder was penned by Misha Mengelberg, whose keys can be found poking their thoughts here and there. The conventional horn intro of Salz wipes the blackboard clean for the frantic bass clarinet lessons of Willem Breuker—who, along with Petrowsky, is one of the group’s shining stars—and the composer’s own frolicking pianism. Another of the album’s best solos resides herein, this time from the tenor of Dudek, who also threads in a few lines of flute.

The lightly syncopated vertigo that welcomes us into Reef und Kneebus promises the album’s best engagements, but instead turns into an over-long meander between a few stellar points. Wheeler, though, is as engaging as always, and the swing comes back into the picture toward the end. This final piece plays more like a series of unrelated vignettes and feels a touch out of place.

This is a full recording, one that accentuates the breezy rhythm section and keeps the brass well separated. The band blows free and easy and tries its best to keep us out of the compositional rut with some freer gesticulations. A respectable outing that could have stood to be spun blindfolded a few times and loosed unaided, but which nevertheless balances its conscious progressions well.

<< Sidsel Endresen: So I Write (ECM 1408)
>> Dave Holland Quartet: Extensions (ECM 1410)

Sidsel Endresen: So I Write (ECM 1408)

| Tyran Grillo

Sidsel Endresen
So I Write

Sidsel Endresen vocal
Nils Petter Molvær trumpet, fluegelhorn, percussion
Django Bates piano
Jon Christensen percussion
Recorded June 1990 at Rainbow Studio, Oslo
Engineer: Jan Erik Kongshaug
Produced by Manfred Eicher

Sidsel Endresen’s So I Write was the first ECM jazz vocal album I ever bought. While that in and of itself would have been enough to make it special, the music housed within its windswept sleeve made it unquantifiably more so. Just holding it in my hand above the used CD bin from which I’d fished it, I could already feel its shaded vistas spreading through me.

The title track is also the album’s first, and one could hardly dream of a more affecting introduction to this Norwegian chanteuse’s inner life. It is a sound-world in which the word is its own creator, one that utters itself into being in the floating pall of its residual meanings. Accompanied by the staggering palette of drummer Jon Christensen and the punctilious spirals of pianist Django Bates, Endresen travels far and wide along extemporaneous landscapes. “This Is The Movie” bolds and underlines the cinematic qualities of her breathy poetry, flitting through stills like sadness through transient life and tenderly exploring the complementary nature of love. In “Dreamland” she exchanges light for dark, turning a lullaby into a personal mantra in the process. The ever-lyrical horns of Nils Petter Molvær, who comments on every stirring from a respectful distance, bleed into “Words,” which spins from his plaintive salutation a letter of unbridled subtlety. Here we find ourselves embraced by the dangers of dreams and the depths of their promises. This leads us to explore in “Mirror Images” the boundaries of the image as the boundaries between flesh and self.

The mood takes a noticeable turn in the more abstract “Spring,” which separates its eponymous season as if it were a theater curtain, throwing the spotlight of an empty house on to a character whose life moves an idea of retribution through chaos. “Truth” carries this idea further into a purely rhythmic language before the human voice lays its biases on the water’s surface and casts the thrills of illusion into the emotional deep end, where we are met by “Horses In Rain.” Endresen fashions from this image a babbling where metaphor speaks for all, and where Bates’s thematic reflections close the door on this enigmatic date as would a mother exit her child’s room once the bedtime story has worked its magic.

So I Write is a musical gem and the perfect companion to any Norma Winstone album on your shelf. If these are only half the stories told, then we can take great comfort in writing our own remainder.

<< Shankar: Pancha Nadai Pallavi (ECM 1407)
>> Berlin Contemporary Jazz Orchestra: s/t (ECM 1409)