Iro Haarla
Northbound

Iro Haarla piano, harp
Trygve Seim saxophones
Mathias Eick trumpet
Uffe Krokfors double-bass
Jon Christensen drums
Recorded September 2004 at Rainbow Studio, Oslo
Engineer: Jan Erik Kongshaug
Produced by Manfred Eicher

It’s surely tempting to label Iro Haarla as a “jazz harpist,” which in one sense she is. Northbound proves she is far more. Above all, Haarla is a composer of contrast and depth, one who is eminently comfortable mixing diverse ingredients into a picture that remains fully within her grasp at any given moment, even as she allows it to develop at its own pace. For her ECM leader debut, she draws saxophonist Trygve Seim, trumpeter Mathias Eick, bassist Uffe Krokfors, and drummer Christensen into her net. While familiar names all, it’s especially inspiring to see Krokfors among them, carrying as he does the credit and experience of playing on drummer Edward Vesala’s Ode To The Death Of Jazz.

If “Avian Kingdom” seems to cast a nostalgic glance toward Vesala’s mood, it’s because Haarla shared tenure not only in his influential Sound & Fury project, but also in his adoration. Since 1978, she became a guiding light in her late husband’s sonic activities, learning the harp and other instruments (she is a pianist by training) to cast just the shadows he was looking for. Shadows are indeed an important coloring tool throughout this, the album’s opener, and its subsequent autumnal spread. Christensen, too, resurrects some of Vesala’s ancient spirit, bringing free-flowing comfort throughout.

Accordingly, the set is anchored by Haarla’s melodies, which manage to be at once contemplative and near bursting with expressive power. Each highlights one among this tender quintet. In “Time For Recollection” it’s Krokfors who breaks the hermetic seal with his bow, woven into a braid of two by whispering harp strings. Likewise in the title track, which ends the album on a cartographic note. Even the breezy “Barcarole” shelters a thoughtful heart, wistful yet secure in its free being (if not also its being free). It’s an open-topped vehicle for Eick and Seim in turn, a verse that takes equal pleasure in rhyme and dissonance. Haarla, too, comes forward, especially in the more hopeful passages. Whether uplifting the band’s full strengths in “Light In The Sadness” or greasing the wheel in “With Thanksgiving,” she gives the horns plenty of palimpsests across which to chalk their messages.

In both concept and execution, scattered tracks play variations on an aquatic theme. Some are more obvious. “On A Crest Of A Wave,” for one, features rolling pianism, splashing cymbals, and a bass undertow. And there are the folksong qualities of “Yarra, Yarra…” (presumably a reference to Australia’s perennial river of the same name), in which harp and bass opening a deep conversational rift in the sheetrock as the horns span their bridges in response. Others, like “Veil Of Mist,” work a more abstract form of magic. Still others marry both states of mind. To wit: the album’s two duo settings. “Waterworn Rocks,” an album highlight, pairs Haarla at the keys with Christensen, while “A Singing Water Nymph” is a lacy interlude for harp and saxophone that proceeds in rippling steps and crosshatches them with reflections from above.

In light of these geographic paintings, Northbound belongs on the shelf next to The Sea and is sure to please fans of that classic predecessor. Although Haarla’s slow pacing may be off-putting to those looking to tap their feet, just know that such a methodology gives every nuance a chance to be heard and felt. Such attention to detail sets Haarla apart and asks only that listeners slow their heartbeats for a while in return.

Iro Haarla Quintet
Vespers

Iro Haarla piano, harp
Mathias Eick trumpet
Trygve Seim tenor and soprano saxophones
Ulf Krokfors double-bass
Jon Christensen drums
Recorded February 2010 at Rainbow Studio, Oslo
Engineer: Jan Erik Kongshaug
Produced by Manfred Eicher

Out of her long association as arranger and orchestrator for Edward Vesala, harpist Iro Haarla showed listeners the breadth of her compositional powers in Northbound, which was but the springboard to all that awaits us in Vespers, her second leader date for ECM. Joined again by bassist Uffe Krokfors of Vesala’s influential Sound & Fury ensemble, saxophonist Trygve Seim, drummer Jon Christensen, and trumpeter Mathias Eick, she offers a set of nine originals.

Haarla’s harp is like the clip of wing we see on the album’s cover, which lends context for the perspective we are so humbly granted. Her presence is equally atmospheric, every sweeping arc of light bringing us closer to the romantic blood that nourishes her themes. She combs our fears of flying from tangled minds, eschewing outright virtuosity for melodic integrity. The slowly turning mobile of “A Port On A Distant Shore” is a fine example in this regard. Seim’s tenor heightens the aerial sensibilities, each turn a children’s song resurrected by the lips of memory. The title track in the singular is more of the same. Dedicated to Haarla’s father, it stews in the nocturnal air of its eponym and unfolds the art of travel as if it were an accordion book. Both horns are a touch mournful here and through the keys link a chain of paper and ink, of action and word. Seim stretches his throaty limits and wails across the sky, ever the nomad holding his possessions to a body as slim as they are. Eick cries as if singing, sliding down a slope of ice and forgotten temptations into the view of “A Window Facing South.” Plush swells of harp strings accented by spark of cymbal and wick of bass breed color in the brass. The dialogue between Haarla and Eick here is remarkable—one a watery shimmer, the other a mermaid frolicking beneath. Meanwhile, Krokfors plays the part of a transient artist who commits bold lines to his sketchbook, drawing us into “The Warm Currents Of The Sea.” Much of that warmth is found in Haarla’s skeletal pianism. She paints impressionistic waves of sorrow and fondness in equal measure, lingering on notes as if they were incantations, the horns rolling over one another in foamy tide. The album’s highlight is by far “Satoyama.” The title is a Japanese term that refers to the area between mountain and flat land, and symbolizes the meeting of topographies at work in the album’s every tune. Seim now converts to soprano, trading flight patterns with trumpet over a snowy landscape. “The Shimmer Of Falling Stars” is a time-lapse photograph given life through music and shares the throne with its predecessor. Strained highs from Seim create a plangent emotional effect. Yet the journey must end, “Returning Home” in a slow drizzle nonetheless stirred by a need to move forward. The luscious, John Taylor-esque pianism and diaristic bass solo exhale the final “Adieux,” as much beginning as end. Eick carries us out, if not down, returning us to Earth for a soft and bittersweet landing.

Vespers feels like a winter’s morning. When you first walk into it, the air is frigid and still. One deep breath, however, and its crisp freshness invigorates. You are awakened. You are ready.

(To hear samples of Vespers, click here.)