Bohren & der Club of Gore – Piano Nights

January 24, 2014 • Play It Again Sam

Let's talk about Bohren & der Club of Gore for a moment, shall we? They're largely considered to be the progenitors of the dark jazz genre, and probably the most well-known group. Like a lot of people, I became a fan of the group when I heard Black Earth and became infatuated with is gloomy, dark, and sloooooow sound. It's a fantastic record by all means. However, their other stuff doesn't really resonate with me so much. Sure, it's still good, but I've listened to their other albums only one or two times each. Why? Well, I think that there's simply no reason to. Bohren is very much a one-trick-pony sort of band, unfortunately; while I like the music they make, they make the same music over and over again.

So now we're at Piano Nights. And wouldn't you know it, it's another collection of gloomy, dark, and slow jazz tunes. But I still can't help but think to myself—why bother? There's nothing new going on here. You might as well just listen to almost any of their other albums, and it wouldn't make much difference. It's the same everything: the same song structures, the same drumming, the same bass, the same sax, the same vibraphone.

I'll grant them this, though: it is still pretty good stuff. If I was listening to this with the same sort of blank-slate approach I had with Black Earth, I'd say this isn't quite as good but it's pretty close. They still capture that despairing doom-noir atmosphere very well, in a way that no one else can quite match, even though it seems like such simple music. And even if it is really samey, it's not like I don't enjoy listening to Bohren anymore. They still manage to put on a certain mood that you can't get by playing your Herbie Hancock records at 4 RPM.

So I guess I have mixed feelings about this album. It's a pleasant listen, and worth giving a spin, but I feel like I wouldn't have missed much if it never came out. But maybe that's just me.

Wadada Leo Smith – Ten Freedom Summers

May 22, 2012 • Cuneiform Records

Time for something a bit different, time to review something new. Ten Freedom Summers was a much-discussed album last year and (as usual) I was late to pick up on it, as not only had I never heard of Smith before but the album itself is a big one to swallow. Even though I've been getting into jazz in a big way during the last couple of years, nothing quite prepared me for this, and I'm not very taken with what I've gotten.

Admittedly, this is one of the most difficult jazz albums I've ever listened to—even knowing this going in, it's still a long trip. The album's enormous four-and-a-half hour runtime is, of course, a huge barrier to entry for many people, and I myself found that listening to the album in its entirety quickly felt like something I was forcing myself to do rather than enjoying the music as it came. Eventually I decided on putting all the tracks on shuffle and hearing just a few at a time, so as to not tire myself out—but you still don't get the whole picture that way.

Length aside, the music itself can still be very hard to process. It dances back and forth from arrhythmic bop to improvisational, dissonant free jazz to the avant-garde side of modern classical and chamber music, and just about all of those styles are frustrating here. Maybe it's just me, although I have been known to enjoy a free jazz album here and there (not a lot, but it happens); this one, though, never really catches on with me. I can't tell where the music is going or what it's trying to do. Sometimes it spazzes out in an improvisational cacophony; other times it stops completely only to let the ride cymbals or cello tinker on alone, as if they're not sure what to do. Sure, there are moments when I enjoy what the music is doing, but I'm never enthralled, never hooked, and I'm all too often bored.

Which is a shame—it's a very well-performed piece of art, and it's clear that a lot of effort went into putting it together. But on the whole it doesn't feel right to me. The good moments are too few and far between; I could probably edit this down to a one-disc album of very good jazz (what an undertaking that would be!), but the good stuff doesn't justify sitting through the rest of it. Approach cautiously.

4

Tomasz Stańko – Music for K (Polish Jazz, vol. 22)

January 1970 • Polskie Nagrania Muza

I don't know what it is with Europeans and jazz, but they sure can make some nice tunes. Music for K seems to be some sort of tribute (at least in part) to the legendary Krzysztof Komeda (his album Astigmatic is still one of my favorites), and it continues the apparent Polish jazz tradition excellently (not that I'm anywhere near a jazz expert, but you know).

Music for K really hits that sweet spot between bebop and free jazz—it goes well beyond the relatively stale confines of '50s bop (not saying I don't still enjoy that kind of stuff, of course) without going too far into the super-improvisational ultra-artsy avant-garde realm that I never really was able to enjoy. Even if everyone is improvising all at once, they still manage to keep themselves on the same page as far as a consistent mood, never going off into pure free-improv mode but still having things interesting enough to keep the listener on their toes.

Another great thing about this album is how dynamic it is—things are constantly moving and changing, with rapid-fire trumpet and sax improvisations quickly shifting into a more minimal drum solo and then building back up to a noisy climax in "Czatownik", for example. Or the shift from the fast-paced and dissonant opening of "Cry" to its slow and somber ending; on the way you'll never notice the transition, as it always comes very naturally. The "theme" in the opening and closing moments tie everything together into a nice package, leaving the listener neatly right back where they started.

Being this sort of jazz it does have its fair share of long stretches of solos, of course—Stańko has to have his time showing off his trumpet chops. Fortunately he doesn't go too overboard with the soloing; in fact, when I get tired of the solo in "Nieskończenie mały", it shifts into a unison theme just in time. Focus almost always seems to be on group texture and atmosphere and rarely on individual performance, something I prefer in jazz (and everywhere else, really), so it never feels like I'm getting bogged down.

I'm probably way underqualified to review stuff like this (even having played in my share of jazz bands) but it's still exciting to discover old records like this that are really quite good but slip past most people's radars nowadays (at least, in my demographic). Definitely worth trying out even if you aren't a huge jazz fan.

7

Esbjörn Svensson Trio – 301

March 30, 2012 • ACT

Man, this was a hard album to write about. I've been listening to jazz for quite some time but haven't done many jazz reviews, and I didn't realize how difficult it can be to put this kind of music into words. It doesn't help that 301 is pretty unique as far as jazz goes. Of course, knowing that the group (sadly no longer around) was from Sweden and shared a bassist with Dan Berglund's Tonbruket should have tipped me off—apparently I've been listening to a lot of European jazz without knowing it lately, but there's been a lot of good stuff coming out of there since the turn of the millenium.

If nothing else, this group is definitely very talented when it comes to their writing. Every track on this album has its own feel to it: sometimes it's your standard boppin' trio stuff ("The Left Lane"), sometimes they take that sound and totally turn it on its head ("Inner City, City Lights"), sometimes they produce something that is completely unexpected ("Houston, the 5th"). And they do it without being an irritating free-jazz band either, as most of the tracks are still heavily dependent on improvisation and solos. But it's all done with the group having a common focus and creating a consistent sound.

It's a sound I enjoy, too, both flirting with fusion and being almost cinematic at times. There is a lot of focus on repetition and building up a groove to create a specific mood. I suppose that's something you get a lot with smaller groups such as this one, but for me it's nice to hear less of a focus on extravagant soloing and more of tension and texture. (Of course you have your exceptions, like the frantic guitar-like basswork in "Three Falling Free part II", but of course it serves to add to the feel of the piece and not show off the skill of the bassist.)

I find it a bit strange, actually, that 301 seems to have flown under most people's radars; most posthumous albums get much better treatment, especially when they are actually high-quality like this and not junked outtakes. (If these are junked outtakes, then I guess there is some truly superb music in Svensson's back catalog.) Definitely one to check out.

6

People Band – People Band 1968

Welcome to Bad Music Week! For the next five days I'll be revisiting some of the most abhorrent monstrosities in my library. So plug your ears and let's see if these are as bad as I remember!

1970 • Transatlantic Records

I don't know if my distaste for free improvisation comes from just listening to the wrong albums, but People Band 1968 isn't helping the case. Even with a bit of jazz flair, its formlessness and amateur-sounding improv style result in a hopeless, disappointing mess that I'm surprised I managed to listen to once, let alone twice.

Supposedly, a bunch of people were simply gathered and told to just play, without any sort of instruction or direction, and it totally shows. It's pretty clear that these people have no idea what they are doing. With the exception of the "Conduction" tracks, the instruments are all off in their own worlds, and not one takes a lead role in guiding the others along any common path. Instead, everyone just sort of hangs back, timidly banging away, and it goes on for nearly an hour without anyone figuring out how to command the group. That isn't to say there's no group mentality; they tend to do dynamics together okay, but that doesn't go far in making up for their lack of coherence in any other category. On the "Conduction" tracks, though, it actually doesn't sound too bad—with someone actually leading the performers, the result is way more listenable, although still not particuarly good, and those tracks are undeservingly short.

Here and there, though, are glimmers of what could have been decent music—a moment of cello droning, some neat drumming, etc. But these moments are brief and rudely interrupted by the random squealing and crashing that makes up too much of the album. The fact that there were almost some good sounds here makes the whole experience that much more disheartening. And, of course, the vast majority of the sounds aren't good; things like random yelping, violin screeching, harpsichord mashing, etc. would sound horrid on their own and they're even worse in a group.

It just goes to show that no matter how good a group of musicians you can gather, it doesn't mean much without preparation or leadership. With more "Conduction"-style tracks with actual form and dynamics, this album might have been redeemable, but the rest of it is just plain awful. I can't even bring myself to listen to the whole thing at once, as it would probably drive me insane, and I'm baffled at how the album's producers thought this was a good idea. The title "Skip to Part 3" is good advice, but I can do better: skip this album.

2

Pivixki – Pivixki

August 2009 • Sabbatical

This is one of those albums that is incredibly difficult to review, where I'm not sure if I'm not "getting" something of if it's just a deliberately confusing release. While I like to think I'm pretty comfortable with most forms of jazz by this point, Pivixki's self-titled debut has me a bit baffled.

In fact it's even hard to call it jazz: while a drums and keyboard duo is a good setup for jazz, the music they play steps so far out of normal jazz's repertoire that it has more in common with grindcore or the more avant-garde modern classical (which is in itself an improbable combination). The music is incredibly chaotic and free-form with its atonal keyboard ramblings and random drum riffings, which sometimes synchronize with each other and sometimes go completely off the rails.

That's not to say the music isn't interesting; far from it: the drum lines and piano riffs are actually quite varied. There is plenty of blasting to go around, for sure, but also lots of quieter solo bits, a steady rock beat in the third track, etc. Apart from the relatively consistent blastbeats, though, the song structure is of course very free-form and random, making it hard to get a grasp on any of the music as it blazes by. Obviously that's a major point of the album, so for a lot of people this isn't a bad thing, but it's not really for me.

I guess I'm simply just not into music with too much of a randomness factor. I'm sure with enough listens I could probably grow to really enjoy this, as there are a lot of sections that really aren't too shabby, but on the whole it's a difficult listen. Granted, its short length helps, and I am very reluctant to dismiss this album, but I can't honestly say I recommend it.

4

Painkiller – Execution Ground

November 15, 1994 • Subharmonic

Anyone about to listen to an album by John Zorn should know right away that they're going to get into something weird, and Execution Ground isn't an exception. Joining him is Mick Harris of Napalm Death fame, and right there should be an indication that it's going to be an interesting album.

In addition to the expected chaotic and noisy free jazz, much of the album instead revolves around an ambient dub sort of sound, created by some very solid dub-like drumming, repetitive bass lines, lots of sax soloing, and some really great ambient noises in the background. The atmosphere this all adds up to is really great: it's a huge, bleak sound, inspiring some sort of post-apocalyptic urban sci-fi setting, somehow. (Sort of like what the Blade Runner soundtrack would be like if Zorn composed it.) There are also some interspersed vocals, mostly tortured screaming and some chanting as well. It's all very creepy and often unsettling, but in a good way.

Because of this interesting mix of genres and sounds, Execution Ground manages to keep itself mostly interesting throughout its duration, despite it being so long. At about eighty-four minutes, there are always going to be parts where the music drags a bit and it is easy to lose interest. I can't say that doesn't happen here, but at least it doesn't happen as often as it could. For the first disc, Zorn sticks to the crazy nonsense soloing, but the bass and drums do a lot of different things: there's some straightforward dub beats, some hardcore/grindcore influenced riffing, some free improvisation, etc. The ambience and electronics are also produced very well; they usually follow the music pretty closely and it's obvious they weren't thrown in for atmosphere but rather used as an accompanying instrument, to great effect.

The second disc is pretty much all straight-up dark ambient with some background saxophoning and the occasional dub drum solo. It's hard to tell the difference between the two discs since the atmosphere, production, and composition is all very much the same, but it's good to hear these ambient remixes for a bit of a different spin on the first disc. It's a good way of keeping the album from sounding too stale and boring, and here it does a pretty good job at that.

I happen to like Execution Ground but I should warn that it is very much a niche album and most people would probably be turned off by any number of things about it, but it's an album that knows its purpose and accomplishes it pretty well, even if it is a little too long.

7

Swami Lateplate – Doom Jazz (Plays Music from the Imaginary Futurist Drama)

February 2008 • Veal Records

It's probably tough to be in an ambient jazz band, because no matter what you do, everyone is going to compare you to Bohren & der Club of Gore, and they are a tough act to beat. Some acts like the Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble do well enough with making a more original sound that helps differentiate them. Swami Lateplate doesn't do much of that, unfortunately. While they are faster, lighter, and more jazz-oriented than Bohren's very doomy approach (despite this album's title), there isn't much in particular about Doom Jazz that stands out above similar music.

They do have their sound nailed down pretty well. The drumming is the obvious focus most of the time; there is always some kind of ride pattern, cymbal improv, or tom or snare fills going on at some point, which are usually pretty good (although they are sometimes a bit show-offy and detract from the dark ambient feel). The sparse—and I mean sparse—interjections of bass and piano do up the doom ante pretty nicely, and it sounds good when they come in, especially when all three instruments play together (which isn't often enough). Here and there there are actual almost-rock-like bits where the bass and drums sync up for a nice little groove, something most other bands probably just can't pull off since they play so slowly. Unfortunately these moments are very rare.

But I think this album suffers a lot from too much improvisation and repetition (yes, that sounds contradictory, but it's true). A lot of the time it sounds like the drums just want to show off and play too complex or fast or loud which contrasts badly with the softer bits, and it switches back and forth very frequently, which can get jarring. The piano and bass are more consistently, tastefully, and subtly done, though, so it's not all bad.

Yet despite all the drum improv, the album does come off as a bit repetitous: each track sounds almost exactly the same, even after repeat listens, and the album is about an hour long of all the same thing. Having so few instruments playing is probably a big part of the perceived repetition, since it makes it more difficult to tell different tracks apart. But, on the other hand, that does mean that the album makes good background or reading music if you try not to pay attention (I guess that is the point of ambient music, after all), although I think the drummer would be upset to hear me say that.

All in all Doom Jazz certainly isn't a bad album but it isn't really good either, falling pretty squarely into the take-it-or-leave-it category where I'd probably rather listen to something else but it's not bad enough to warrant shutting it off. But if you get the chance, just listen to Bohren instead.

5

Jan Johansson – Jazz på svenska

1964 • Megafon

Time to visit an old classic today. I use the word "classic" in a loose sense—from what I understand, if you're not actually from Sweden, odds are good you've never heard of Jan Johansson or his music, but in that country he was very popular. And for good reason, too; it's a bit of a shame that this album hasn't really caught on outside Sweden, because it's really quite good.

Jazz from outside of the United States is unfortunately something I'm not very familiar with yet; after all, the U.S. is where it started, why should jazz from halfway across the globe be any better? Well, there are quite a few reasons. In true Swedish style, the music is quite stripped-down and folky compared to most American jazz: you get a piano jauntily playing along accompanied by an upright bass, and that's about it. No drums, no saxophones, no brass, but honestly none of that would improve the record one bit. Its minimalist style is perfect for the tunes, creating a very personal, warm atmosphere, and adding anything else would ruin that.

Also showing its European heritage is a significant classical influence that is pretty unique. The keyboards play in a sort of Baroque-cum-impressionism style—at least, you probably wouldn't find it too weird to hear a few of these songs played with a harpsichord instead of piano. Aside from the occasional swing rhythms and walking bass, it's pretty hard to call it jazz at points.

The album's weak point, and probably the main thing keeping it from finding a bigger audience, is that what I've described above is pretty much all you get—in twelve songs (sixteen in the remastered reissue) there isn't much variety at all. Each song has the same instrumentation and similar style; the melodies are basically the only thing distinguishing each piece. If one really enjoys the style, then it will constistently satisfy; it's sink or swim. For me, it's definitely a swimmer, although admittedly it makes better background music for that reason and it can be difficult to sit down and listen to it straight through without getting distracted by other things.

Regardless, it's still a very beautiful album, a great piece to show off the diversity of jazz (and classical!) and another way to show that Sweden has some of the most consistently great music of any other country (as if you needed another reason).

7