Guns N’Roses

MUSIC
MUSIC
Pat Metheny
The Unity Sessions
Nonesuch, 2CD
Pat Metheny’s ongoing swoop between the
blatantly sentimental and keenly aggressive
has long charmed certain parts of his
audience. Music generalists tend to swoon
for the winsome fantasias the guitarist’s electroacoustic
outfits created during the last four decades.
Jazz fans with a deeper sense of scrutiny are often
more engaged by his overtly swinging work, which
puts his terrific improv skills upfront. Of course, there
some listeners have a yen for each of Metheny’s myriad
approaches. They’re the ones that will embrace this
double-disc live set by the Unity Band. Moving from
serenity to turmoil, it’s custom-built to tickle anyone who
appreciates the 61-year-old bandleader’s scope.
Making its recorded debut in 2012,
the Unity Band proved its versatility
from the start. Adept at pushing muso
buttons while stretching its emotions
towards the cloying side, it nonetheless
finds a way of wringing epic excursions
from balmy melodies and prog-informed
interplay. During the last four decades,
Metheny the composer has shown us
his prowess at placing a bittersweet
vibe in a few of his most eloquent
tunes. But they’re made a bit richer, and
certainly more distinct, by being flecked
with other hues as well. From moment
to moment, this new album’s “Sign of
the Season” morphs from lighthearted
melancholy to pensive elation. That
makes it somewhat unsettling and
rather attractive. During this instudio
concert, taken from a feisty
performance previously released on
DVD, each band member plays a role in
enhancing the steady shift of moods.
As an instrumentalist, Metheny is
expert at bolstering the ethereal. “Come
and See” starts with his harp-like Picasso
guitar and lets saxophonist Chris
Potter roam on bass clarinet. When
the engine of bassist Ben Williams and
drummer Antonio Sanchez drops in,
we learn it’s a vamp tune with a twist.
Each soloist bends it a bit, and from
the guitarist’s liquid pronouncements
to the horn player’s animation (Potter
remains supple yet vigorous at every
turn on this album), the performance
seems to jet along while somehow floating.
The comparatively aggressive “Two
Folksongs” does something similar (and
did so when Michael Brecker recorded
it with Metheny on the latter’s terrific
80/81). While it glows with the leader’s
acoustic strumming, it also burns with
the band’s rambunctious interplay.
Metheny’s music sounds earthier with a
reed player in the band. Potter brings a
gravitas to the inherent dolor of “Born”
and reminds us of the joy in tearing shit
apart on “Roof Dogs” and “Rise Up.” For
a full two minutes, the group also rips
through the fractious “Geneology,” which
might be a pithy postcard pointing to the
way Ornette Coleman initially influenced
the guitarist. (The band also bounces
through Patnette’s “Police People” from
its near-perfect 1985 outing, Song X.)
Potter’s fluency positions him for almost
anything. His duet romp with the leader
on “Cherokee” serves as a hot snapshot
of his blowing skills, the spot on this record
where he and Metheny sound like
they’re having the most fun. Ultimately,
the saxophonist is as convincing on a
freak-out as he is during the music’s
most genteel passages.
And indeed, several tender moments
arise on The Unity Sessions. Metheny’s
acoustic recital through a medley of past
themes functions as one of the most
enchanting pieces. Thirteen years ago,
he dropped One Quiet Night, a boomer’s
valentine to pop radio. It reminded
doubters just how expressive he can be
on his own. Here, he ambles through
seven originals before subsiding with
a “Last Train Home” that puts a lump
in your throat. It’s the direct opposite
of “Go Get It,” the closing track and an
ornery rampage that suggests this adamant
experimentalist won’t be abandoning
the aggressive stuff any time soon.
The distance between the two items
is sizable. But as that signature shock
of hair hits its graying phase of life,
Metheny’s vision becomes more and
more commanding. It’s now powerful
enough to make opposites feel like part
of a whole. Unity, no matter how you
slice it. —Jim Macnie
©Photo by Jimmy Katz
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TONE AUDIO NO.78
AUGUST 2016 129