The Good Guy Always Wins: Behind the Mystery of the Daniel Bennett Group

On Clockhead Goes to Camp, multi-instrumentalist and composer Daniel Bennett took listeners on a storybook journey. But if that 2013 album was a Spirograph drawing, this 2015 follow-up is a Spin Art extravaganza. The Mystery at Clown Castle brings to fruition a reimagined lineup, situating the bandleader (who capably switches between alto saxophone, flute, piccolo, oboe, clarinet, and piano) among the fresh aliliance of guitarist Nat Janoff, bassist Eddy Khaimovich, and drummer Matthew Feick.

The present cast of characters is no less eclectic than the former, and guides the project along fruitful avenues of ingenuity. The roster change, as made clear in an e-mail interview, is in no way the result of creative differences, but instead born of the need for a touring band. “I never burn bridges,” Bennett assures. “My musicians are like family to me.” Bennett in fact continues to work with his Clockhead musicians on a regular basis, but has taken to test-driving newer associates through his monthly residency at Tomi Jazz in midtown Manhattan. The vibes honed on Tomi’s stage pay their dividends in the studio, where the band’s unities, but also its lively fragmentations, acquire full expressive reign.

The Mystery At Clown Castle

Although Mystery feels like a continuation or companion of Clockhead, it’s also very much its own animal—or should I say animals, because the set list is populated with them. “Paul Platypus” is the first of an evocative menagerie and finds the band firing on all cylinders. It’s also a mighty fine vehicle for Khaimovich, who Bennett calls “one of the busiest bass players in New York City” and who encouraged the bandleader to make use of electric bass for the first time. The instrument adds tactile shading here (and subtlety to the nocturnal carnivalesque that is “The Spinning Top Stood Still”), while fleshing out the lower spectrum beyond Janoff’s six singing strings.

The flute-led “Nine Piglets” is reprised from its last appearance on Clockhead in a fully reinvigorated arrangement. This radio-friendly tune, one of the band’s most requested, discloses Bennett’s overtly pop influences, which peek their heads above water on “Strange Jim And The Zebra” and “Uncle Muskrat.” The latter boasts the talents of pianist Jason Yeager, a prolific sideman whose backyard jam session chops lend further delights to two freely improvised tracks.

The album’s nonhuman considerations come at us like a stampede in the spoken poetry of Britt Melewski, who in “Morning” shouts, “What animal are you?” It’s a profound, if tongue-in-cheek, question to consider in such a whimsical musical universe, the answer to which can only be articulated in melodies without words. Such contrasts take to higher altitudes in his creepily auto-tuned “Minor Leaguer,” beneath which oboe and guitar lay down a beautiful stage.

DB solo
(Photo credit: Jesse Winter)

Opener “The Clown Chemist” is duly representative of Bennett’s style. Technically proficient yet full of sparkle and personality, its circularity opens the way for creative ornamentation. As throughout the album, the melody is primary, as attested by the fact that Bennett composes first at the guitar, as one would a song, before transferring to his lead of choice. Mystery is likewise recorded like an indie band. Producer MP Kuo does little to mask the band’s live sound, which breathes through tracks like “Flow” with cinematic clarity. When I asked Bennett about his nonmusical influences, his response was as multifarious as his music:

“You’re going to laugh, but I really love formulaic television shows from the 1980s. I love the ‘good guy vs. bad guy’ plots. And the good guy always wins. That’s the way it should be! There’s too much cynicism in this world. So I do it my way. I don’t follow jazz trends and I don’t push any political agenda with my music. I just want to make people feel good. I am on this earth to be a servant to others. A wise man once told me, ‘Worship God and serve the people.’”

It’s a fine philosophy to follow for a group just voted “Best New Jazz Group” in 2015 by Hot House Jazz Guide and, with another album already recorded, these cats are on their way to making the future of jazz that much brighter.

For more information, check out their official site here.

Hideo Yamaki & Bill Laswell: Untaken Path

Untaken Path

Untaken Path is collision and collusion in one, an ad hoc meeting of drummer Hideo Yamaki and bassist Bill Laswell. Yamaki is a chameleonic musician, having worked across genres and continents and overlapping with many of Laswell’s past collaborators, including John Zorn, Bernie Worrell, and Hosono Haruomi, thus making him an inevitable, if ephemeral, partner in spacetime.

This duo gives fresher meaning to the term “drum ‘n’ bass,” stripping the rudimentary rhythmic expectations of the form by opening it to possibilities of unhindered emotion. And this is where both players excel: one by deepening the grooves laid before him, the other by grinding them to an even keel. They specialize in laying groundwork, doing so with such a feel for melody and color that full structures stand by the end of their exhalation. As they rack up the intensity, each finds an unlocked door in the other and proceeds through it, linking ouroboroses of metal, skin, and sweat. The locked-in jam that emerges is no small feat of confluence, but the result of a mutual regard that feels inherent to the context of this flame. They are the kindling shifting beneath the logs, sending up sparks with their audio sacrifice. Over the course of 15 and a half minutes, transformations occur second by second, Laswell’s enhancements rapid-fire one moment and glassine the next. It’s as if he and Yamaki were searching blindly through darkness, relying only on the sound of each other’s voices to guide them toward the light of a mutual ending which, when it does reveal itself, contracts with substance. There is pain but also healing, teetering but also equilibrium, which by the end of the performance reveals itself to be a reentry into its original spark. This is the solar system in a petri dish, spilled until it collects in the gutter of a black hole, only to be born again on the other side. Fantastic.

(For ordering information, please click here.)

Bill Laswell & DJ Krush: Shūen

Shuen

DJ Krush, Japan’s premier turntablist, meets bassist Bill Laswell in a clash of styles that is continents apart yet seamless in drift. Beginning in the catacombs of some untapped well, it traces a spelunk in reverse from the depths of an archaeological never-mind, through a lost civilization’s most active spirits, and into the light of a blinding day. Laswell traces a frame of ambience while samples of flute contort in the background and record scratches twitch like nervous ley lines. Traditional Japanese instruments make their presence known: shakuhachi, shō (mouth organ), and the pluck of a biwa. A breakbeat kicks open the portal to declarations of bass, while mouth organs continue to swirl inside the head of an inebriated ghost, for all a flock of birds exhaling fire. Words like mantras must be spoken before they tear apart the city, but instead drown when the record trips and falls into itself all over again.

The title (終焉) may mean “demise,” but this single-track collaboration seeks only memory and rebuilding in the aftermath.

(For ordering information, please click here.)

Bill Laswell: Bilmawn (Little Village)

Little Village

Out of the seductive world of Jim Jarmusch’s 2013 film Only Lovers Left Alive comes this sonic missive from Bill Laswell, not included on the original soundtrack release.

Like the Moroccan ritual to which it makes reference, it moves in stages, from the spidery guitars that open the circle to the dance of fecundity that closes it. Equations of clay drums trace the halo of a deeper beat science, stretching the mind like a net to catch runaway gods, each of whom carries a torch of some long-forgotten past. There is a drifting—if not also drifter—quality to the music. It is an enhanced trip into someplace far from the ills of the world, populated entirely by beasts from within. A search for truth behind representational costumes, this delicate ornament for your Laswell tree speaks to us with the breath of a thousand continents: A shadow is nothing without the light.

SPARKLER: I Colored It In For You

Sparkler

Bill Laswell’s “Incunabula” is a series of digital-only releases from the M.O.D. Technologies label. It has expanded the bassist-producer’s palette in directions ancient and futuristic, allowing freedom to strengthen his expressive reach. Part of that freedom includes promotion of artists from many walks of life, each highlighting one gradation of an ever-expanding spectrum. An apt metaphor, to be sure, in the context of I Colored It In For You. This debut single by SPARKLER kicks off the latest project from multi-instrumentalist Peter Apfelbaum, of New York Hieroglyphics fame. Having played with artists as varied as Don Cherry and the Grateful Dead, Apfelbaum presents here a 21st-century assembly of Natalie Cressman on vocals/trombone, Jill Ryan on vocals/alto sax, Will Bernard on guitar, Barney McAll on homemade instruments, Willard Dyson on drums, and co-producer Aaron Johnston (of Brazilian Girls) on drums and programming. Together they slide their way through two distinct tracks.

In the album’s EPK, Apfelbaum admits an affinity for extremes, as evident both within and between the song’s bifurcation. Part 1 shakes the night sky free of its galactic mess and uses it as a canvas for fresh, playful songwriting. The lyrics, while seemingly haphazard, reveal the randomness of a relatable mindset. Cressman and Ryan dress declarations of independence like “I’m gonna do it all” in frills of youthful confidence. It’s a whimsical contrast to the slickly crafted road beneath, and just off-center enough to make it endearing. “You make we wanna write ’til my memory is full” is another memorable line that blurs the separation between body and technology. The chorus moves through an honest groove, giving way to smooth horn work from the vocalists. Part 2 is more keyboard-driven and contradicts the previous incarnation with gentler, ephemeral transferences. A less bold and more reflective side of the band, it is an extreme in and of itself.

Rounding out the single is a Mix Translation (dub remix) by Laswell, who emphasizes the dreamy undercurrent, deepening the intro’s spatial qualities while rendering the voices into occasional messengers. A key bass line and drum beat kick things into gear, horns hopping in along the way, as the title phrase emerges in intermittent signals. Laswell crosses the song’s inner arc through gorgeous break-flow, surfacing with coral souvenirs.

It’s just the beginning of a journey, and I’m gonna hear it all.

(For ordering information, please visit M.O.D. Technologies here.)