Volume 26 Issue 4 - December 2020 / January 2021

Something in the Air
Care and Craftsmanship Means
that Unusual Sessions are Back in
Circulation
KEN WAXMAN
Although you couldn’t guess from major record companies’
release schedules, the purpose of a reissue program isn’t to
repackage music that has long been available in different
formats. It also doesn’t only involve finding unreleased or alternate
takes by well-known musicians and sticking them on disc to satisfy
completists. Instead, reissues should introduce listeners to important
music from the past that has been rarely heard because of
distribution system vagaries. This situation has been especially acute
when it comes to circulating advanced and/or experimental sounds.
Happily, small labels have overcome corporations’ collective blind
spots, releasing CDs that create more complete pictures of the
musical past, no matter the source. The discs here are part of
that process.
Probably the most important find is
That Time (NotTwo MW 1001-2), which
captures two tracks each from two iterations
of the London Jazz Composers
Orchestra from 1972 and 1980. Drawn
from a period when the LJCO made no
professional recordings, the tracks piece
together music from radio broadcasts or
amateur tapes, sonically rebalanced by a
contemporary sound engineer. Although
the personnel of the ensemble shrank from 21 to 19 over the
eight years, the key participants are accounted for on both dates.
Edifyingly each of the four tracks composed by different LJCO
members shows off unique group facets. Pianist Howard Riley’s
Appolysian, for instance, depends on the keyboard clips and clatters
engendered by matching Riley’s vibrating strokes and expressive
pummelling with the scalar and circular waves and judders
from the string section, which in this case included violinists
Phillip Wachsmann and Tony Oxley (who usually plays drums)
and bassists Barry Guy and Peter Kowald. Climax occurs when
tremolo pianism blends with and smooths out the horn sections’
contributions. Quiet, but with suggestions of metallic minimalist
string bowing, trombonist Paul Rutherford’s Quasimode III
derives its grounded strength and constant motion from thicker
brass expressions and meticulously shaded low-pitched double
bass tones. Concentrated power is only briefly interrupted by a
dramatic circular-breathing display by soprano saxophonist Evan
Parker. Dating from the first session, trumpeter Kenny Wheeler’s
Watts Parker Beckett to me Mr Riley? stands out as much for
capturing the LJCO in mid-evolution as for its Arcadian beauty.
Sophisticatedly arranged, the tune gradually introduces more
advanced textures as it advances over Oxley and Paul Lytton’s
martial drum slaps and throbs from bassists Guy, Jeff Clyne and
Chris Laurence. It pinpoints the group’s transformation though,
since the harmonized theme that could come from contemporary
TV-show soundtracks is sometimes breached by metal-sharp guitar
licks from Derek Bailey, plus stentorian shrieks and split tones
from the four trumpeters and six saxophonists.
Rutherford, who plays on all the LJCO tracks
and German bassist Kowald, who plays on
the 1980 ones, also make major contributions
to Peter Kowald Quintet (Corbett vs
Dempsey CD 0070 corbettvsdempsey.com),
the first session under his own name by
Kowald (1944-2002). Recorded in 1972 and
never previously on CD, the disc’s four
group improvisations feature three other
Germans: trombonist Günter Christmann, percussionist Paul Lovens
and alto saxophonist Peter van de Locht. The saxophonist, who later
gave up music for sculpture, is often the odd man out here, with his
reed bites and split-tone extensions stacked up against the massed
brass reverberations that are further amplified when Kowald plays
tuba and alphorn on the brief, final track. Otherwise the music is a
close-focused snapshot of European energy music of the time. With
Lovens’ clattering drum ruffs and cymbal scratches gluing the beat
together alongside double bass strokes, the trombonists have free
reign to output every manner of slides, slurs, spits and smears.
Plunger tones and tongue flutters also help create a fascinating, evershifting
sound picture. Pavement Bolognaise, the standout track, is
also the longest. A circus of free jazz sonic explorations, it features the
three horn players weaving and wavering intersectional trills and
irregular vibrations all at once, as metallic bass string thwacks and
drum top chops mute distracting excesses like the saxophonist’s
screeches in dog-whistle territory. Meanwhile the tune’s centre section
showcases a calm oasis of double bass techniques backed only by
Lovens’ metal rim patterning and including Kowald’s intricate strokes
on all four strings. Variations shake from top to bottom and include
thick sul tasto rubs and barely there tweaks.
There’s also a European component to
American alto saxophonist Marion Brown’s
Why Not? Porto Novo! Revisited (ezzthetics
1106 hathut.com), since five of the
13 tracks were recorded in 1967 with Dutch
bassist Maarten van Regteren Altena and
drummer Han Bennink. The remainder
feature Brown with New York cohorts
drummer Rashied Ali, pianist Stanley Cowell and bassist Sirone.
Known as a member of the harsh 1960s new thing due to his work
with Archie Shepp and John Coltrane, Brown (1931-2010), brought
an undercurrent of melody to his tonal explorations. Both tendencies
are obvious here with the pianist adding to the lyricism by creating
whorls and sequenced asides as he follows the saxophonist’s sometimes
delicate lead. Playing more conventionally than he would a
year later, Brown’s 1966 date outputs lines that could be found on
mainstream discs and moves along with space for round-robin
contributions from all, including a solid double bass pulse and
cymbal-and-bass-drum emphasized solos from Ali. Jokily, Brown
ends his combined altissimo and melodic solo on La Sorella with a
quote from the Choo’n Gum song and on the extended
Homecoming, he quotes Three Blind Mice and the drummer
counters with Auld Lang Syne. Homecoming is also the most realized
tune, jumping from solemn to staccato and back again as the
pianist comps and Brown uncorks bugle-call-like variations and
biting flutter tonguing before recapping the head. Showing how
quickly improvised music evolved, a year later Altena spends more
time double and triple stopping narrow arco slices than he does
time-keeping, while Bennink not only thumps his drum kit bellicosely,
but begins Porto Novo with a protracted turn on tabla. From
the top onwards, Brown also adopts a harder tone, squealing out
sheets of sound that often sashay above conventional reed pitches.
His slurps and squeaks make common cause with double bass
strokes and drum rattles. But the saxophonist maintains enough
equilibrium to unexpectedly output a lyrical motif in the midst of
jagged tone dissertations on the aptly titled Improvisation. Of its
time and yet timeless, Porto Novo, which was the original LP title,
manages to successfully incorporate Bennink’s faux-raga tapping,
58 | December 2020 / January 2021 thewholenote.com