The Free Jazz Collective

Rodrigo Amado New Orbit at the Oct Loft Festival

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Sun, 08 Nov 2026 05:00:00 +0000

This one just came to our attention via an announcement from Rodrido Amado himself. A new recording from the saxophonist with his new Berlin configuration, New Orbit, with bassist Joel Grip and drummer Michael Griener played at the Oct Loft Festival in Shenzhen, China last October and will be releasing the fruits of their labors on Amado's European Echoes label shortly. Here is a snippet of their performance:

Why I’m glad that we have abolished the (five) star system

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Sun, 08 Nov 2026 04:59:00 +0000

By Martin Schray

A few years ago, we did away with our previous star rating system because there were heated discussions about the fact that we had published too many 5-star reviews, which made the whole rating system seem somewhat absurd. My colleague Gary Chapin has now written a post stating that all the albums he reviews deserve five stars. I - who used to be quite happy to hand out five stars - would say that actually only very, very few albums deserve five stars - and that’s why I’m glad we got rid of the rating system.

When I think back on which albums I gave five stars to, I’m not sure in hindsight if they were all worth it. Here’s a small - completely arbitrary - selection: Evan Parker’s Electro-Acoustic Ensemble’s Hasselt, Colin Stetson & Mats Gustafsson’s Stones, Zoh Amba’s Bhakti; William Parker’s Wood Flute Songs, Matana Roberts’s Always ; Ken Vandermark/Paal Nilssen-Love’s Extended Duos, Peter Brötzmann’s Chicago Tentet+1’s Walk, Love, Sleep … . And are these releases all as good as - let’s say - Cecil Taylor’s Alms/Tiergarten ? Or the first two Die Like A Dog albums? Or Matana Roberts’s first two Coin Coin projects? That’s up to each of our readers, but I think there are definitely differences. In a nutshell: Not all the albums I review are 5-star albums.

What we ultimately also did away with a while back are sorchers. If we don’t like an album, we don’t review it. That’s understandable, too. I’ve written a few scorchers - and I don’t regret it. I never felt like I was shitting in anyone’s cornflakes. I’m still convinced that those albums are bad. I dismissed Alabaster De Plume’s Gold because, in my opinion, the album was completely and unjustifiably praised to the skies almost everywhere. The same goes for Kamasi Washington’s Epic (at least partly), Trilok Gurtu’s Spellbound, and Günter Baby Sommer/Till Brönner’s Baby’s Party (in a double review, since Nick Ostrum liked the album, which is totally okay to me, of course). Not all the music sent to us or suggested for review is equally good. If you treat everything the same, you don’t do outstanding music justice. The late German literary critic Marcel Reich-Ranicki was famous for his scorchers. The ones compiled in a book sold like crazy. No one was interested in the compiled praise.

I, too, want to promote very good music and I don’t write scorchers anymore. I don't think my reviews separate the wheat from the chaff, but maybe help draw some attention to something others out there might enjoy. When Stef Gijssels started the blog almost 20 years ago he wanted to provide a guideline for people who stand in front of a CD or vinyl shelf and have no idea what to buy. And I remember me as young guy reading music magazines. I had a bunch of writers I could trust blindly. If they raved about an album, you could be sure it was really good. And if they didn’t think something was that great, you’d listen to it first. That’s the spirit in which I write my reviews.

Berne/Taborn/Nealand/Ultan/Rainey - Deflection Pool (Out of Your Head, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Sat, 07 Nov 2026 05:00:00 +0000

By Gary Chapin

The Lowlands Bar is the home, on Mondays and Tuesdays, to enough amazing improvised music that it’s starting to accrue to itself a light Studio Rivbea vibe. As Tim Berne’s haunt to which he invites an extraordinary plethora of musicians, Lowlands feels like the room where it happens. Everytime I get a notice of an event featuring David Torn or Ches Smith or Tom Rainey, I sorely lament the fact that I live 400 miles away.

All the more reason to celebrate (!) Out of Your Head for recording at the venue and presenting us with this streaming only release, the debut in a series of live, low-complication recordings.

When Berne started working with Aurora Nealand some years ago, he told me, “She’s kind of a shaman.” Listen to the past records with the two of them — a number of groups of musicians, along with the trio Oceans And (with Hank Roberts) — and the shaman line comes to make sense. The swells and eddies of her accordion have an organic, chaos theory through line that works so well with Berne’s effusive improv.

Berne dives deeper into the shaman space by inviting cellist Aliyan Ultan to the mix. Ultan, aside from killing on the cello proper, shows an extraordinary ability to manually and electronically manipulate the envelope of that instrument, creating not only different sounds, but different kinds of sounds. On top of that you’ve got Craig Taborn’s keyboards, sounding like Miles era electric piano, to genuine cathedral rocking organ, to more synthetic waves. When Nealand’s accordion, Taborn’s keys and Ultan’s cello play together it’s like continents sliding over each other, generating earthquakes and mountain ranges.

The final two pieces of the puzzle are Tom Rainey, who has never sounded stronger, and Berne himself. Deflection Pool is — like the Oceans And trio — in the high abstraction range of the swing-to-noise scale. But at least twice the music reaches a fever pitch of quantity and quality where I said, aloud, “Oh, my f*&^ing word!” Everything in between those moments is just as fascinating and delightful, if not quite so shocking. Berne’s melody is the dark wonderful story that takes place on this dense transcendent planet. And Rainey’s drums! Rainey’s drums … well, metaphors are failing me. (“At last!” I can hear some of you say.) Five stars.

DEFLECTION POOL by Berne / Taborn / Nealand / Ultan / Rainey

Looks Far Woman - Aliya Ultan (Kou 2026)

Looks Far Woman sits in one of my favorite subsets of the autre set: the solo cello recording. Since Tom Cora’s Gumption in Limbo(1987) I have had a deep affection for such things. Ultan’s song cycle is ritual, using repetition, melody, and out music in a trance-making way without ever becoming ambient. Her playing and electronics shape the envelope of the sound so that it alters the space of the listener’s room and fills it. I did not expect to be so thoroughly compelled to stop what I was doing and listen. Ultan’s approach is deeply spiritual, Looks Far Woman being a figure in her own mythology. These pieces unfold such stories, or maybe they draw them from you. Also, five stars.

Looks Far Woman by Aliya Ultan

Why I Write Only 5 Star Reviews

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Sat, 07 Nov 2026 04:59:00 +0000

Image Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash

By Gary Chapin

Some weeks ago (or months, or days) I read a comment on a colleague's review that essentially criticized him that “all your reviews are five star reviews!” If I could remember which of my colleagues that was, I’m sure I would never presume to speak for him, BUT the criticism did resonate because ALL OF MY REVIEWS ARE FIVE STAR REVIEWS!

What’s that you say? How can I sleep at night?

Let’s establish the foundation.

First, as a human I am not required to have an opinion about anything, let alone write about it. Secondly, I don’t like writing bad reviews! Why would I choose to shit in someone’s cornflakes? Because the art they made didn’t trigger my endorphins? Some people really enjoy doing takedowns of what they think is “bad art.” I don’t. I am not that asshole.

Other reviewers (way back in the day) have told me that if I weren’t willing to write a bad review, then they couldn’t trust me when I wrote a good one. You can’t be a gatekeeper unless you’re willing to be part of the fence. I’m not sure why I believed that—it’s not like I was being offered payola—but I did. But I didn’t want to be part of the fence, and I got myself out of the reviewing dodge (that was 2005-ish).

Fifteen years later, I encountered the Free Jazz Blog and here I am, back in the game. What made the difference?

I’m a regular here at the rag, but I feel lucky if I write a dozen reviews a year. Further, the FJB itself generally publishes one review a day (with some variation for Sundays, etc.). We publish somewhat fewer than 350 reviews a year. In 2025 FJB received notice of approximately 1400 new releases that fit within our remit. That’s a big difference! Only 25% of what crosses our transom gets reviewed! How do we decide what to review?

The reviewers themselves decide. I decide what I’m going to review. I go through the many releases and lists we receive, or consult my own sources, and the things that draw my attention, the things that I’m hoping I’ll love, those are the things I reach out for and buy or request. Then, upon listening, the things that really capture me, intrigue me, fascinate me, provoke thought, love and rapture—those are my criteria for five stars—are eligible for me to review. If I want to advocate for a piece of music, or sing its praises to the sky, that’s five stars. Finally, I ask, for which of those recordings do I think I have something interesting to say? And which do I have the time to write (day jobs being what they are).

How do you know you can trust my reviews (i.e., that I am offering my opinions, which you may still disagree with, in honesty and good faith)? Because my goal in this era of my reviewing career is to support great music and bring it to you all. “What makes this great?” is my guiding question, and that’s okay because all of the culling and sorting happened before I even got to the writing. The wheat gets cut from the chaff long before you guys show up to read.

Introducing Flutist and Electronics Player Delphine Joussein

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Fri, 06 Nov 2026 05:00:00 +0000

By Eyal Hareuveni

French flutist, electronics player, sound artist, and vocalist (and a professional sommelier) is a force of nature, with magnetic, commanding stage presence. She leads the trio NOUT (with electric harpist and percussionist Rafaelle Rinaudo and drummer Blanche Lafuente), plays in the FLÖJTER duo with Mats Gustafsson and in Gustafsson’s Fire! Orchestra, with fellow French drummer Edward Perraud’s Sauvages Paradis, and in the pan-European quartet Kabarila, and runs the Gigantonium label. She often plays on the theme of comfort and discomfort, and the process of building-deconstructing-rebuilding “that can take us into the best and the worst”.

Delphine Joussein CALAMITY - Calamities (Gigantonium, 2026)

Calamities is Joussein’s debut solo album, and the aptly titled name of this project captures her hyperactive essence, eager to push the flute as far as possible from its angelic-sounding image. Joussein has a mission: to extend and expand her instrument’s sonic palette with live electronics, pedals and effects, voice, and extended breathing and percussive techniques to the farthest sonic territories, possessed by an intense energy, poetic ideas, and restless need to create surprise and never limit her sonic horizons. She can match early music with free jazz, and distortion and noise with extreme metal, while using all parts of her flute. Gustafsson, who contributed liner notes to NOUT’s live album, added his liner notes here (“Watch out. Be afraid… play this album LOUD. VERY LOUD. Play it on RED. Sit back. Adjust your jaw. And SMILE. This music will hit you. It will hit you bad in-your-melted-face. The flute is back. It is alive”). The album was recorded in the fall of 2025 in the heart of a Pyrenean forest.

Joussein begins with the poetic “Balade with Olivier”, with lyrics by her late brother, Olivier Joussein (“There is far more violence in silence than in some spoken words. / Too much silence leaves not enough room for understanding…). She moves from a contemplative and mourning tone to the raw, left-off-centre song, matching her playful phrasing with the flute’s effects-heavy percussive sounds. The title piece is dedicated to Joussein’s three brothers and offers a dense and chaotic, electric, stormy wall of processed, noisy flute sounds with mutated vocals (the album was mixed and mastered by Norwegian noise master Lasse Marhaug), suddenly morphing into an acoustic melody, before ending with a brief noisy note. The following “Argent Massif” explores a similar tension between a gentle, acoustic melody and a brutal, electronics-heavy, frenzied abstraction of it. “Ma Flûte Et Mon Couteau” (My Flute and My Knife) keeps the noisy vibe and borrows lyrics from French symbolist writer Alfred Jarry (1873-1907), suggesting that the effects-enhanced flute is Joussein’s weapon. literally. Joussein deepens the revolutionary, subversive tone with fragmented, heavily processed chanting of “Sugar Chain”, now with a poem by 16th-century poet and political theorist Étienne or Estienne de La Boétie (“Tyrants, the more they plunder, the more they demand, / the more they ruin and destroy, / the more we give them, the more we serve them”). She concludes the album with an acoustic version of Charles Mingus’ iconic “Good Bye Pork Pie Hat”, compacted into her restless, intense sonic vision.

Delphine Joussein CALAMITY : "Calamities" by GIGANTONIUM

FLÖJTER - Brest Blow (Gigantonium, 2026)

Brest Blow is the second album of FLÖJTER (flutes in Swedish), the duo of Gustafsson (playing on flute, slide flute, spilåpipa, harmonica, live electronics, organ) and Joussein (on flute and electronics), following Paris Blow (Gigantonium, 2026). It was recorded live at Cabaret Vauban, during the Atlantique Jazz Festival in Brest in October 2025.

The aptly titled two pieces “Don’t forget to Die” and “Still breathing. Still breathing.” faithfully capture the uncompromising, radical commitment of these kindred spirits to exhaust all sonic possibilities of the silver flutes and melt their infinite sonic horizons into electric, high-voltage storms, psychedelic grooves, and heavy riffs. This is a passionate dance, often driven by Gustafsson’s complex love-hate relationship with the flute. It swings instantly, back and forth between innocent, reverent early music and brutal, noisy hurricanes (Marhaug did the mixing and mastering), or between free jazz, percussive usage of the flute keys, and raw noise. Joussein and Gustafsson let these sharp sonic frictions and collisions reign, dissolve, and coexist peacefully in a complete, risk-taking continuum that has its mysterious, powerful logic.

FLÖJTER - BREST BLOW by GIGANTONIUM

Delphine Joussein & Kit Downes - happy hurricanes (Gigantonium, 2026)

Joussein’s duo album with British, Berlin-based organist Kit Downes was recorded by pianist Marta Warelis at Luisenkirche in Berlin in February 2026. Joussein and Downes comment that when a flute and a pipe organ meet, everything is possible, but not in the way we may imagine (obviously, if you have not heard Joussein before).

As can be expected, the iconoclast Joussein and Downes (who also mixed the album) exploit not only the full sonic spectrum of their instruments - Joussein’s effects-enhanced flute and Downes’ 29 registers on a two-manual and pedal pipe organ - but also the reverberating, spacious church hall, driven by their love for the recurring theme of comfort, discomfort, comfort, discomfort, and so on until the bells ring. This is not the typical, reverent church music, but the four-part suite has its rare, seductive and lyrical beauty, often corresponding with minimalist contemporary music, punctuated by bursts of noise and surprising, brief grooves. Joussein and Downes call it an endless anthem to freedom.

Delphine Joussein & Kit Downes "happy hurricanes" by GIGANTONIUM

Markus Müller - Globe Unity 60 (FMP-Publishing, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Thu, 05 Nov 2026 05:00:00 +0000

By Paul Acquaro

While poring over Globe Unity 60 by FMP label head Marcus Müller, one begins to see the label itself as a central node in a larger nervous system. In his previous book, FMP – The Living Music, Müller told the story of Free Music Productions as both the chronicle of a record label and of an era marked by creative innovation and political tension. In this new volume, he turns his attention to one of the many strands extending from that center: a network that remains deeply connected to FMP while forging its own relationships and trajectories. Through it, we witness the exchange of ideas, influences, and energies that helped shape a significant chapter of European free music.

A collection of ephemera - gems really - from several different archives fill the books structure - these being FMP's own, as well as pianist and orchestra leader Alex von Schlippenbach’s, the legendary label MPS/Saba, ECM, Intakt and more. Album art, liner notes, reviews from scathing to laudatory, along with graphical scores and hand written notes festoon the pages. These are connected by essays and insights from people who were in the orchestra to those influenced deeply by it.

Careful to say that his book is only one of the possible ways into the story and history the Globe Unity Orchestra, Müller offers some historic insights into the development of the group, starting with the commission from the Berlin Jazzfest's programmer Joachim Ernst Berendt in 1966 to its evolution in the 1970s to include, if not synthesize, the influences of co-organizers Peter Broetzmann and Peter Kowald, who injected some politics into the music, whereas Schlippenbach was focused on the music. We also learn of Schlippenbach’s main influence, Bernd Alois Zimmermann, a German composer and teacher of the pianist in Cologne whose own fusion of modern classical ideas, jazz and historic motifs are foundational to the works of Globe Unity. Müller lets the artifacts do a generous amount of the talking - reproductions from the archives follow, each liner-note and reflection offering its own biased and timely explanation of the orchestra.

Particularly interesting is the excerpt from Wolfgang Burde’s “Materials on European Free Jazz” from the For Example book that accompanied the FMP box set released in 1978 documenting the Workshop Freie Musiks that took place at the Akademie Der Künste Berlin from ‘69 - ‘78. In his essay, Burde traces the development of the orchestra, from its learning to really let loose to later refinement and virtuosic playing. His review stops at the end of the 70’s, but we get an update in form of a retrospective look at Globe Unity from 1975 when it reformed in a smaller configuration due to budgetary limitations, as the Globe Unity Special. Liner notes for the release of Globe Unity ’75: Rumbling (FMP, 1991), discuss how other also influenced the group, citing the compositions from Misha Mengelberg, Steve Lacy and Evan Parker as showcasing the flexibility and free-jazz chops of the group. This release (actually a rerelease of the Evidence Vol 1 and Vol 2 LPs (FMP, 1975)) also feature one of Schlippenbach’s visitation to the well of Thelonious Monk - a continual source for him to this day - in his arrangement of the song ‘Evidence.’

An interview with Schlippenbach by journalist Maxi Broecking serves as a centerpiece for the book and really an introduction to what the pianist alludes to as probably the final performance of the orchestra in November of this year at Jazzfest Berlin and Cafe Oto in London. In these pages, one gets a sense of the heady concepts behind Schlippenbach’s music - the 12-tone serialism, the influence of Cecil Taylor, Ornette Coleman and Monk, but also the history of composers such as Krzysztof Penderecki and the contributions of colleagues like Evan Parker, Mengelberg and many others.

After this, we visit the the ECM/JAPO years with reviews of Improvisations (1978), Compositions (1980) and Interglactic Blow (1982) by Tyran Grillo (who has published his own book of reviews focusing on ECM), all three of which featured an even more international line-up of the group, including at various times trumpeters Enrico Rava, Kenny Wheeler and Toshinori Kon⁠⁠do, as well as trombonist George Lewis. The latter, in fact, is featured in an interview with Broecking that places the orchestra’s work in historical context as well as seeing connections with the AACM, saying “It’s not the same music, but it’s about the same thing: being free and open-minded.” John Corbet’s essay recalls the 1987 appearance of the orchestra at the Chicago Jazz festival in balanced words: acknowledging the challenges of the music, sound mix and audience, but also talking about how it influenced him to release many recordings on his own labels.

There is much more to experience in the book, including commentary on the later releases on the Intakt record label as well as a dip into the work of the celebrated Schlippenbach Trio with Parker and drummer Paul Lovens. In the closing reflection from saxophonist Mats Gustafsson whose own vary large Fire! Orchestra is continuing in this musical space, taking its own mix of modern classical compositions, deep-funky riffs and free jazz explosions from festival to festival in Europe today. In it he states, “Inspiration for all of us, and especially anyone working with larger ensembles as a tool. Any and every large ensemble active now owes the Globe unity. Big time.“

The book is rich in images and texts, essays and reflections, offering both the Schlippenbach fan and the free jazz enthusiast a deep immersion into the world of music that a festival commission 60 years ago sparked. Thanks to Müller, whose sensitive curation skills and deep access to source materials, Globe Unity 60 book is an important and valuable artifact in its own right. Plus, it’s available just in time for holidays!

Markus Müller - Globe Unity 60 (FMP-Publishing, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Thu, 05 Nov 2026 05:00:00 +0000

By Ferruccio Martinotti

Autumn 1966. Commissioned by Berlin Jazz Festival, pianist Alexander von Schlippenbach reassembles Gunter Hampel quartet with Manfred Schoof quintet and Peter Brotzmann trio: Globe Unity was born and the concept of large unit in jazz was established. The debut takes place on November 3rd at the Berliner Philharmonie, while, a few months later, Saba releases its eponymous debut album, a timeless milestone along the path of the music we love. As is well known, what seemed to be an on-and-off project begins to unfold over the decades, involving ever-new musicians in a global (indeed...) mobile perimeter: Anthony Braxton, Evan Parker, Steve Lacy, Paul Lovens, Enrico Rava, Kenny Wheeler and many others. To quote the Penguin Guide: "an incomparable, free music institution." Markus Müller's book Globe Unity 60 is being released these days on the label he runs, FMP, to mark the album's 60th anniversary and we truly can't imagine a more appropriate way to celebrate that seminal masterpiece.

The FJC gave due prominence to the extraordinary Free Music Production-The Living Music (here and here), the unmissable compendium of a label that not only reflected the zeitgeist but also helped define it. Readers are therefore encouraged to jump on our colleagues' unsurpassed articles, perfectly suitable to pave the way for this brand new book. A brief note on the author. We're naturally accustomed to associating Müller with FMP, but it's worth highlighting the senior roles held at some of the most important international cultural institutions: the Venice Biennale, the Berlin Biennial, Documenta, the Paris Triennale, MOMA, and Expo Dubai, to name just a few.

The mindset of such a high-profile curator shines through in this latest editorial project as well. The book kicks off with the genesis of the Globe Unity, offering a timely historical-cultural contextualization of those days, following it in its artistic and geographical development: then Globe Unity ‘67 + ‘70; 1968 - 1978 Wuppertal; the Japo period and the twentieth anniversary; the crucial liaison with Chicago (John Corbett's notes are here essential, as usual); the Intakt and the 40th, 50th and 60th anniversaries. The interviews with George E. Lewis and Alexander von Schlippenbach are worth the price of admission alone, while of great interest is the focus placed by Müller on the Berlin musician's two most relevant projects besides Unity: the trio with Paul Lovens and Evan Parker, the duo with Sven-Ake Johansson. The documentary content is rounded out with liner notes, albums’ and concerts’ reviews, while the iconographic richness is impossible to resist: pictures, studio notes, posters, record covers, flyers and scores are sheer, jaw dropping bonanza. Could Mats Gustafsson be left out? Certainly not, and up to him are the final notes that cap off this peerless book, an absolute gem, not only for compulsive completists, but for every genuine music lover.

Tania Giannouli & Nik Bärtsch - Metakosmos (Fuga Libera, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Stef Gijssels) — Wed, 04 Nov 2026 05:00:00 +0000

By Stef Gijssels

When the two worlds of pianists Tania Giannouli from Greece and Nik Bärtsch from Switzerland meet, musical fireworks can be expected. Giannouli has been praised before on this blog, and more specifically for her recent collaboration with the Amir ElSaffar's New Quartet. Her musical style is very lyrical, meditative and gentle, and the quote “This music invites the listener to dream of eternity" captures her music's essence well. Bärtsch has a totally different approach, very percussive, repetitive, reductionist, and the quote "Ecstasy through asceticism" suits his style well.

The collision of these two approaches leads to something phenomenal on this album: deeply eclectic, working with musical legacy of classical, folk music and jazz, their minimal approach, their technical skills on their instruments create a kind of musical universe of rhythmic lyricism in which both musicians feel fully at ease, despite the incredible complexities of the pieces they play.

Bärtsch likes to describe his compositions as a musical space, with clearly defined boundaries yet in which the improvisor can move freely: "The music shows a close affinity to architecturally organized space and is governed by the principles of repetition and reduction as well as by interlocking rhythms. A piece of music can be entered, inhabited like a room. It moves forward and transforms through obsessive circular movements, superimposition of different meters and micro-interplay. The listeners attention is directed toward minimal variations and phrasing".

The result is intoxicating—not only because each of the eight tracks possesses such a distinct character, but also because of the seamless way their voices blend together. The music moves from the meditative Willow Wind to the playful Intonal, from the sensitivity of Electric Sea to the drama of Then When, and from the hypnotic repetitions of Glass Labyrinth to the sheer intensity of Door 13/Pink Athens. Yet despite this remarkable stylistic range, the album remains strikingly cohesive, with a sound entirely its own that captivates from beginning to end.

This music is special. It is not jazz or free improvisation, but it requires the right ears to fully appreciate, and those ears are found on this blog.

Enjoy!

Listen and download from Bandcamp.

Jazz em Agosto, 42nd edition (Part 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Tue, 03 Nov 2026 05:00:00 +0000

Anna Webber 5Tet. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

By David Cristol

Sometimes music comes alive, well, live. The complex compositions by Anna Webber (tenor sax, bass flute), making ample use of just intonation, are presented in a way that makes them palatable, open and fetching rather than amounting to a dry musicological treatise. It's the same quintet as on the Shimmer Wince album from two years ago: Adam O'Farrill (tp), Mariel Roberts (cello), Lesley Mok (dm), Elias Stemeseder (keys) serve the leader's weird orchestrations from that album as well as new ones in the same vein. There is something Threadgillian (as in Henry) about Webber's studies in rhythmical, timbral and tonal relationships, resulting in out of tune instrumental associations that challenge listeners' habits and perception. Stemeseder's crispy synth bass lines help holding the edifice together, in a discreete but essential role, while Mok's beats unfold without ornaments or a trace of eccentricity. It's up to the winds and cello to give flexibility to the whole affair with sagacious solos that manage to sound both relaxed and intense. An atmospheric tour-de-force starts with the imitation of a foghorn by tenor and trumpet and evolves into a slowly mutating creation. A piece is titled after the ecological concern of water - a legit worry further explored in Webber's recent It's Easier to Imagine the end of the World... album. Her finger firmly on the pulse of the times, she also resorts to extended techniques, and her construct is apt to please those enamored with the notated page as much as aficionados of the free religion.

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters gets straight down to business upon entering the stage, blasting open the portals to hell. Turntablist Mariam Rezaei and piccolo trumpeter, modular synth wizard and vocalist Gabriele Mitelli stand behind an elevated table, with alto saxophonist Mette Rasmussen and merciless drummer Lukas Koenig (also using a synth) closer to the audience. Mitelli spouts echo-drenched vocals. The clear, elongated wails rising from Ramussen's sax make her appear as a residual voice of humanity amidst outstanding urban chaos, struggling to make sense and stay sane against a barrage of madness, rage and information overload, searching for the truth among media fog and widespread confusion. She also provides the main jazz element through her phrasing, and dances with a hand-held shaker. Although TSORPM's sets are improvised, some of the material previews the quartet's new album Reason, recorded prior to the Lisbon date but released after, on Chicago label Corbett Vs. Dempsey. Mitelli's staccato outpourings and Rasmussen's soaring lines are sampled in real time by Reazei and fed back into the mix. A measure of the group's loudness is the fact that the planes flying low over the stage, a minor nuisance at other gigs, aren't even noticed. A few bejewelled patrons flee in terror. It's not all punishing noise though, and short, sporadic lulls point to an interesting direction that could be explored further.

Pat Thomas. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

After seeing Pat Thomas in a variety of groupings - notably at Jazz em Agosto, on piano or electronic devices - this solo performance feels like a pared down, distillation of his concepts. Without an introduction, the pianist proceeds to tap into his fertile imagination, his display of musical poetry quickly drawing everyone in. The feel is spontaneous, although part of the repertoire seems to originate in the 2025 album Hikmah. Thomas's style is wonderfully idiosyncratic, even as echoes of Monk, Ellington, Waldron are heard. The gaze is focused on the keys. We're led through an absorbing saga, and from the first note to the last the audience holds their collective breath, soaking in the sounds and designs, from pearly pushes to novel strains, delicate left and right hand flurries to forceful two-fisted clusters. The ostinati cells Thomas deploys are considered rather than obsessive or stubborn. His expressive music has a literary quality, if such a thing is possible. It is in turns or simultaneously rhythmic, abstract, spiritual, down-to-earth, and visionary. One doesn't encounter such beauty every day. An undisputed highlight, after Kühn's markedly different but equally enthralling solo piano set.

The most in-demand drummer/vibraphonist of the past 15 years, Ches Smith is heard in two quartets, both on the outdoors stage. First, he brings his celebrated Clone Row project to play music from the 2025 album and its upcoming follow-up, and then, he appears as a key performer in a multikulti grouping by Tomas Fujiwara.

Clone Row. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Around Smith, Clone Row is Liberty Ellman and Mary Halvorson on guitars, and Nick Dunston on bass and sci-fi sounds toy. The guitar-knitting, both together and separately, astounds. The complicated writing is played with the utmost precision. Halvorson uses her trademark wavy effects with more temperance than a few years ago. It's a treat to hear Ellman live; a member of Henry Threadgill's Zooid and author of worthwhile albums in his own name, he's too rarely seen on European stages. Players' faces are absorbed by the scores, the eyebrows frowned. Seasoned performers all, but concentration remains paramount with every new venture, especially in a field where pushing the boundaries and broadening the spectrum of possibilities is part of the ethos. Over devilish electronic beats, Clone Row offers tight rhythmic structures (odd or straight-ahead depending on the piece), busy melodic lines and changes, ligntning-quick interactions, and manages to emerge with a completely organic feel. Clone Row is a monster that necessitates multiple listens to fully grasp (read Aloysius Ventham's review for enlightenment). The future is now.

Dream Up. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Dream Up is an unusual quartet that, in Lisbon, has Kaoru Watanabe on taiko drums, high-pitched Japanese flutes and yodel, Ches Smith on vibraphone and congas, Kweku Sumbry (heard with Charles Lloyd) on djembe, balafon, kora, whispering and singing, and leader Tomas Fujiwara on "jazz" drum set. It's a much quieter and reflexive affair than Clone Row. A quadrilogue of percussion and wind instruments from various continents, drawing upon distinct traditions - from East, West, South, and more. Each player uses a specific set of tools, sticks, materials, that result in as many timbres; each one gets plenty of opportunities to shine, alone and in diverse manners of associations. The vibraphone's resonance brings an ethereal, otherwordly quality while other instruments evoke an earthly grounding. Well-delineated rhythmic ideas and a modal approach are often favored. Tuned skins, wood and metal participate in the melodic enunciations of the flute and vibes. Fujiwara's felt sticks are applied to the drums with infinite care, while Watanabe's huge taiko drums are hit with indomitable strength. Talkative frogs from the pond behind the stage blend in just fine with music that speaks to the cosmos as much as to the audience.

Chicago Underground Duo. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Since the launch of Chicago Underground duo in 1998, Chad Taylor (drums, mbira) and Rob Mazurek (trumpets, vocals, electronics) have reconvened in this and other formats : trio, quartet and larger bands such as Pharoah and the Underground, which two albums were recorded live at Jazz em Agosto. For this program dubbed Hyperglyph, video backdrops are projected on a big screen, jumpy images of rivers and rain, plant life, fast moving shadows and shapes, pixellated landscapes complementing the music. Mazurek alternates between bouts of blowing (catchy riffs and melodic fragments rather than elaborate developments), chanting, and crafting bass patterns, rudimentary chords and stiff beats from a plugged device, which Taylor fleshes out. The DIY modus operandi aims for immediacy, and the rather flimsy material is made up by sheer energy deployment. So far, so diverting but we're in for a surprise, as an unannounced James Brandon Lewis appears from behind the curtain. The tenorman made a stop between engagements in Sienna and Oslo, and endeavours to solo and trade lines with Mazurek in the incandescent fashion he's known for, giving the set a literal and figurative second wind. Lewis is of course familiar with Taylor who's a member of his quartet. Maybe establishing a tradition of having guest performers join them, the duo invited Darius Jones and Gerald Cleaver to be part of their Jazzfestival Saalfelden date a few days later.

SML.Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

And it's already the last day in convivial Lisbon before returning to the French furnace. SML - for Small Medium Large - hail from L.A., benefit from a fair amount of hype and already are a festivals' favorite (they played Paris' Sons d'hiver in January and will be opening Poland's Jazztopad next). The repetition-minded, cosily groovy quintet provides the edition's closing act. Drummer Booker Stardrum, electric bassist Anna Butterss, synth player Jeremiah Chiu, saxophonist Josh Johnson and guitarist Gregory Uhlmann form a musical commune, outside of traditionally hierarchical organizations and song structures. Their seemingly leaderless approach appears consistently equalitarian, each member operating in the service of the whole, with no one attempting to single themselves out. Tellingly, there are no solos. The procedure bears similarities with Joshua Abrams' Organic Music Society, without the spiritual decorum. The elements gel in sync, evolve almost imperceptibly, the head-nodding aesthetic relying on laid-back, unobtrusive bass lines, detached, characterless sax emissions and restrained playing from all. It succeeds at what it aims to do, which is already a measure of success, with a lack of urgency, divergence or surprises as the downside. Without much in the way of changes, the slick surface appeal of the rhythm-led jam stagnates and only sustains momentum and interest for halfway through its excessive 80+ minutes duration. Concertgoers should check SML out however and forge their own opinion. Jazz em Agosto offers such a scope of acts - and as many musical strategies - that a diversity of assessments on the receiving end is inevitable, which is a good thing, a basis for debate and a weapon against rampant attempts at standardizing culture.

See Part 1 here

Jazz em Agosto, 42nd edition 2026 (Part 1)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Mon, 02 Nov 2026 05:00:00 +0000

By David Cristol

Jazz em Agosto took place over ten days in the heart of the summer, with a bold programming that has become the norm for the manifestation. Stellar line-ups and excellent listening conditions make the festival a favorite of audiences, artists and critics. With 14 concerts and the aim of "presenting the current creative and original state of jazz" according to artistic director Rui Neves, this year's edition was another winner.

Joachim Kühn. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

The opening act was set in the big auditorium of the Gulbenkian Foundation. The supreme venue, which stage stands in front of large glass walls overlooking the Foundation's gardens with wildlife, previously welcomed ensembles by Nicole Mitchell, Nate Wooley, XT, as well as the Sylvie Courvoisier/Cory Smythe duo, and Shane Parish solo. The striking architecture gives an extra layer of grandeur to a rare solo performance by pianist Joachim Kühn, who was involved in all the developments of jazz since the 1960s. It's a celebration of the piano. He kicks things off with a 40-minute abstract improvisation. His stream-of-consciousness extemporizations initially owe more to classical music motions and impulses than to the jazz vocabulary, but prove terrific all the same, as his cavalcades of notes take the audience on a spontaneous and heartfelt journey, not relying on any trusted tricks or routines. What follows increasingly leans into free jazz territory. Kühn doesn't need a formal structure to let his ideas flow. Clear-cut melodies are eschewed in favor of waves and cells, forays into microscopic ruminations, dark lullabies and brooding ad-libs, slowly but surely leading to epic flights. The music shape-shifts, and goes in virtually any direction. No high concept, no extramusical discourse and no filler. It seems as if the fingers have a mind of their own, without ideas being filtered by the brain. As a double encore, we get two songs by Ornette Coleman : "Somewhere" and "Researching has no limits"- that title pretty well summing up the performance.

David Maranha and Rodrigo Amado. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Day two starts with a duo of Lisbon-based artists, David Maranha and Rodrigo Amado. They join forces in the great-sounding auditorium 2, the indoors venue where the more experimental gigs take place in the late afternoons. Theirs is not a first encounter but a continued exploration, as evidenced on 2024's Wrecks and 2026's Desolation Row albums, both recommended to readers of this blog and with liner notes by master Stuart Broomer accompanying the newest title. An interesting tension arises from the association of Amado's jazz vocabulary and Maranha's electric organ and effects that build modal soundscapes and ambient layers for the tenor saxophonist to improvise, spout swirling motifs, throw raucous darts, focus on one repeated note or long-held growls, investigating the whole instrument's range in the spirit of freedom he's accustomed listeners to. Although the uninterrupted set doesn't seem to have a beginning, end or arc, it sustains interest throughout and is met with a standing ovation.

Canyon. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Another bona fide improvised set follows on the outdoors stage. A particularly exciting one for this listener, who sees Joe Morris live for the first time, after having enjoyed his recordings, on both bass and guitar, alongside well-known players as well as young talent, for a couple decades. It's Canyon's second gig only. The New York quartet, made up of Jerome Deupree (drums, of 1990s band Morphine and a colleague of Morris since 1985), Sylvie Courvoisier (prepared and unprepared piano), Lester St. Louis (cello) and Morris (double bass), have a self-titled double CD out on Fundacja Słuchaj. Morris was the honoree at this year's Vision Festival in June of this year. Total improv is always a risky endeavour, a collective walk on a tightrope. Courvoisier and St. Louis are extrovert players, the former digging into her repository of techniques and signature moves (percussive clangs, swarms of notes, playing on the strings to get a harpsichord-like sound...), the latter supplying creaks at breaking point and harmonics-filled glissandi, while the bass and drums pair maintain a collected, counter-spectacular bearing, Deupree a paragon of restraint on his instrument and Morris quietly connecting the dots and steering the ship. The initial scattering gradually gives way to keen mutual listening from band members, intent on making each other sound good without relinquishing their distinct temperaments. Once balance is found, there is nowhere the quartet can't go, with seamless transitions from busy waves to sparse lulls, impressionnistic sequences to rhythmical ones. A piano-less trio segment also engagingly reshuffles the deck for a while.

Shardik. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

A John Zorn-produced venture, Shardik is the brainchild of guitarist/composer Matt Hollenberg (Simulacrum), and brings a punk-funk spin on the metal-jazz genre, boasting bands such as Kilter and Imperial Triumphant and of which an early incarnation were Secret Chiefs 3, of which Hollenberg is now a member. Bubbly bass, heavy riffs, more bounce than your average kangaroo tribe, and themes that owe something to Zorn's Bagatelles, Masada and Dreamers songbooks. Not surprising considering how closely Hollenberg is involved with Manhattan's main magus - most currently with the Flatlands trio. Another obvious influence is that of the Mahavishnu Ochestra. Around Hollenberg are Sana Nagano on oddly-shaped electric violin, Nick Jost on electric bass and Danny Sher on drums. At times the music gels into delicious psychedelic concoctions - only for short spells though, for the imported, competitive New York ethos means hitting hard and running to the next phase without delay. However, the outdoors setting gives the whole thing a different perspective than the same music played in a Brooklyn club; Hollenberg savours the configuration where audience and band are united as in a ritual. Indeed this is no place for superficial consumerism, and the music is lent a sacred function with attendees ready to be moved, elevated, maybe changed. The song-length tunes are tightly organized, with sharp turns and millimetric cues. An athletic feat for the performers, with plenty of challenges to tackle. Not revolutionary maybe, but damn enjoyable, with the egoless relationship between members also working in the music's favor. The full Cruelty Bacchanal album is played, plus tunes from the previous album and an improvisation as the last number. Hollenberg is surprised at the request for an encore, New York audiences seemingly having enough after shorter sets!

Fred Moten & Brandon Lopez. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Next up is the politically aware duo of thinker and poet Fred Moten and bassist Brandon Lopez. Double bass with poetry reading is a rare sight, at least for European audiences, but it belongs to an age-old US tradition going back to Lenny Bruce, Jack Kerouac and the Beat poets encounters with jazzmen, from the 1940s onwards. The fact that Sonny Stitt and Zoot Sims are namechecked reinforces that connection. After all, jazz and poetry are a meaningful combination of two rebellious, social-conscious artforms. A pair of bongos stands between both artists and they caress it with the palm of the hand or give it finger taps, while also coaxing sounds from the double bass, humming along in the case of Lopez and triggering foley sounds and jazz samples from a laptop, as sound signifiers, for Moten. The lyrics are laden with references to jazzmen and jazz tunes as well as early hip-hop wordsmiths. The delivery is low-key, poised, with a slightly ironical distance. The bass adapts to the mood and rhythm of the words, and provides punctuation. The abstruse or metaphorical character of the texts makes it difficult to fully grasp their meaning in one listen. But they also work as purely sonic elements, reaching ears and minds. In addition to playing the bass in orthodox fashion, Lopez generates murmurs by polishing the wood of its body. A fearless programming choice typical of Jazz em Agosto and one of this edition's best.

L.U.M.E. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

L.U.M.E. aka Lisbon Underground Music Ensemble is a well-oiled machine which 20th-year celebration offers a pot-pourri of the Ensemble's history, without a perceivable unifying theme or statement of intent. It encompasses everything from early jazz to 1970s jazz-rock, disco and Steve Reich repetition, the whole thing as remote from 2026 trends as it gets, and heedless to the world's turmoil. Fine soloists bring the colorful, light-hearted, sometimes openly comedic arrangements to life, with leader/composer/pianist/keyboardist Marco Barroso conducting improvised ensemble passages with a sure hand.

Bonbon Flamme. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

In the Fifties and Sixties, Dave Brubeck came back from world tours with a series of "Impressions" albums - from the U.S.A., New York, Japan and Eurasia. Likewise, French cellist Valentin Ceccaldi came back from a trip to Mexico with flavors, tones and textures in mind, which inspired him to found the quartet Bonbon Flamme with a team of like-minded players to serve his polychromatic purpose. What we get amounts to a European version of Tropicalia, with the help of Lisbon guitar-hero Luis Lopes, free agent keyboardist Fulco Ottervanger and jittery drummer Etienne Ziemniak. Ceccaldi also admits to a passion for Alan Shorter's Orgasm, which might give another clue as to the unlabelable hodgepodge unveiled. Feathery downtempo numbers and ecstatic rock workouts share an intoxicating psychedelic bent, that makes use of simple riffs, crackling synthesizer sounds, twangy effects, disorienting arrangements with initial structural landmarks blurring and disappearing into floriferous freeform jams. Solos are short and enmeshed in the compositions. A hypnotizing voyage, with an immaculate first half-hour, and final song "Tres Calaveras" a climax - a pensive guitar-cello vehicle, with Ottervanger's high-pitched, wordless vocals turning it into a musical cousin of Hermeto Pascoal's moody "Little Church". The charged, raspy rock forays, hallucinogenic abstractions as well as the infinitely tender pieces are nothing short of greatness. However, the spell is temporarily endangered by a couple tongue-in-cheek pieces, with cutesy synth sounds and attempts at cartoonish humor. This caveat notwithstanding, a brilliant set.

Anthony Braxton 4tet - Live in Châteauvallon 1973

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Sun, 01 Nov 2026 05:00:00 +0000

Here’s Anthony Braxton from 1973 playing with a quartet featuring the late, great trumpeter Kenny Wheeler, with Jean-François Jenny-Clark on bass and Charles "Bobo" Shaw on drums. They are performing Braxton’s compositions 23C, B and D. The first is one of Braxton’s wonderfully knotty yet hummable compositions and the rest of the band happily keeps pace.

There’s lots of space for improvisation, with Braxton playing his usual wide variety of horns. Kenny Wheeler is a delight to hear in any setting and he seems to love playing these Braxton compositions. The video gets bonus marks for Braxton’s 70s sideburns which are truly a thing of beauty.

Antoine Chessex & Dave Phillips - Vrhaltnis (Coherent States-Krim Kram Records, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Sat, 31 Oct 2026 05:00:00 +0000

By Fotis Nikolakopoulos

Coming, both artists, from different fields of sound and audio making, one might ask why this recording is being presented here. Of course this is never an easy answer, but having to defend my choice, I’d say that the key word is improvisation. Not as a genre on its own, one that should define the sound produced by those two sound makers. Predominantly as a way of thinking, a practice that involves rethinking of old material and producing new only by being open to what will happen next.

Both artists, Antoine Chessex and Dave Phillips, have a long history in sound making (I would like to insist in this term rather than music making) and a long standing friendship too. They have been exchanging ideas and playing together for the past twenty years. Actually the source material for the two tracks consisting this CD, dates back two decades ago from a live performance in, and some studio time, in Switzerland.

Coming to the key word for this release, one that also involves chance, this material was reworked and manipulated in such a way that what is new and what is old, in terms of sound, is impossible to distinguish. Obviously and always there’s a lot of hard work behind all this, behind trying to present something new. One could say that this release borders at what we call noise, but this is the 21 ^st century and who can really tell or put exact limits on what we are listening? It could also be musique concrete. When Albert Ayler was blowing his sax, wasn’t it called non-music or, even, “noise”?

The two tracks unfold in a non linear way, denying, I believe, the gestures of time keeping (“what is old and what is new” exactly) or what is normal when you listen to a recording. They tend to breathe in and out, like inhaling sounds and exhaling sentiments, morphing, as you listen more and more, into a shapeless entity that has only sound in its definition. No genre, label or whatever else pins down free expression. Totally liberated in many ways.

Listen here:
Vrhältnis by Antoine Chessex & Dave Phillips

Sopie Duner & Anthony Coleman - Messed Up Stride (Urlicht AudioVisual, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Fri, 30 Oct 2026 05:00:00 +0000

By Sammy Stein

Sophie Duner has released albums both as a solo artist and alongside names including Gene Ptirsker, Jeremy Harman, and Dominic Duval, as well as with the Callino Quartet. Her musical style is eclectic, and while she remains rooted in jazz, her free-wheeling and versatile talent means she can switch to almost any genre.

On her album Messed Up Stride, Duner teams with pianist Anthony Coleman, a well-known avant-garde pianist who worked with John Zorn on several projects in the 1980s and 90s. He has been in groups Sephardic Tinge and Selfhaters and has been involved in many projects across the world.

The PR describes this as a ‘fearless album,’ and it is that. It was recorded at Atlantis Studios, Stockholm, the studio behind ABBA's "Waterloo," "Dancing Queen," and "Mamma Mia."

About the recording, Duner comments, “‘ Messed-Up Stride’ is the result of a musical vision I’ve had in mind for quite some time. I’m really grateful that pianist Anthony Coleman picked up on my idea for these slightly twisted, stride-inspired tunes! We certainly had fun recording them.”

Duner has worked on some of the compositions for 15 years, and in Coleman she comments, “He really sounds like an entire group. He was exactly the pianist I needed."

The music draws on Charles Mingus, Eric Mingus, George Antheil, Charles Ives, Scott Joplin, John Zorn, Fats Waller, Marc Ribot, and more. The album delivers songs that are pointed, witty, inimitable, and memorable– and nothing that you would expect given the influences. Duner and Coleman seemingly delight in taking themes, rotating them, adding snippets from familiar jazz numbers, and adding their twist. Coleman maintains a (more or less) traditional ingredient with steadfast backing, rhythmic pattern, and some really well-worked solo work, which tempers Duner, who is often off on a journey of her own – yet, despite this, she never loses the connection with what Coleman is doing in his interpretations.

‘Mad World’ is a wonderful opener and exploration of vocal techniques and range. Duner’s character shines like a laser, while her voice soars and dips in seemingly chaotic but actually thoughtful, controlled ways. The track was inspired by the Bulgarian Voices Choir and is a story of contrasts – bitter burning sweet, and chaos finding its groove. Duner’s voice is mesmerising, but couple that with rolling, thunderous, deeply textured piano from Coleman, and it is no wonder this track hits home and engages like an electric charge to the brain. There are gentle phrases too, which contrast beautifully with the tuneful, throaty rasps that Duner delivers.

In Contrast, ‘Two Rabbits on Wall Street’ is a staccato-laced, forcefully delivered number with sudden outlets of energy and rivulets of scat, all across some hearty and well-honed boogie woogie, amongst other styles, which Coleman switches in and out of in mercurial ease. This polytonal number in 9/4 was inspired by porcelain rabbits sold on Wall Street – a meditation on the illusion of money as magic. Frenetic, polytonal, and arrhythmic at times, this is a wonderful number.

‘Better Get Hit In Your Soul’ features a solo intro from Coleman before he settles into a bluesy, rhythmic pattern, across which Duner scats and muses, across Coleman’s now stride style as he pounds left-hand rhythms across the keyboard. Those rhythms are familiar, as this number is a cover of Mingus’s work. Duner studied with Eric Mingus, so no wonder the Mingus touch is there, affected so respectfully by Coleman. Dener’s voice is shown in its instrumental glory on this number.

‘Complicated Love Affair’ is aptly named for its changeable musical concepts, but what stands out is Dener’s voice – she purrs, she slides and glides, and her range is over three octaves here – from chest voice to operatic virtuosity, she delivers with aplomb across Coleman’s empathic playing.

‘Watch Your Pitch Bitch’ is a slightly deranged number delivered with tongue-in-cheek sassiness, and Coleman definitely feels the energy on this one, delivering perfectly timed counterpoint chords, while ‘Mad Monk’ is a gorgeous play on Monkish themes, that bass line working hard, over which Duner’s vocals float like a madcap whirlwind. A brilliant number.

‘I Ain't Taking Orders From No One’ is as feisty as it sounds, and Duner delivers brilliantly, while Coleman maintains a calming influence in his gentler riffs and rhythm patterns.

‘Post Traumatic Ripoff’ was inspired by the changing world we live in and the emotional costs of being taken advantage of. Duner lets rip, duetting with herself, in this strangely cathartic number.

‘Reharmonized Boyfriend’ is sharp, contrasting with softer phrases, and was inspired by the everlasting circle of relationships and going back to routine.

This album is a beautifully delivered concept and shows how two musicians from different arenas can come together to create something special. Coleman’s sense of rhythm, alongside Duner’s eclectic but somehow cohesive music-making skills, creates an engaging sense of involvement. The recording does what so many truly good recordings do, and that is, they deliver music that offers the listener layers – first it sounds chaotic, then the realisation of the way they work in contrast and also harmony hits until the deep connection between the musicians is clear.

Henry Threadgill’s Zooid - Cut You Where You Was (Pi Recordings, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Wed, 28 Oct 2026 05:00:00 +0000

By Brian Earley

Recorded history may be a boon to humanity, but it has also benefited the privileged. How many stories have fallen silent once all witnesses have passed away? Even more troubling is the reality that many of the earliest recordings, both in writing and in audio, fell to those who were privileged enough to have access to time, education, and materials. If you were taught how to write and read, and happened to be near paper, say in 4000 BCE Asia or 150 BCE Greece, you may have had the historical honor of writing something down. In the United States at the dawn of the audio recording industry, a box of two or three wax cylinders might cost you $15 apiece, depending on what inflation calculator you use. This is to say nothing of the price of the recording or playback equipment involved. If you didn’t have the cash, you weren’t going to be recording anything unless somebody who did have the cash wanted to make a profit off of recording you.

And all of this only begins the discussion I think Henry Threadgill is most interested in on the Zooid’s latest release Cut You Where You Was. The notes on the Pi Recordings website say that Threadgill is fascinated by early audio recording processes. One of the most notable of these qualities is the frustratingly short duration available for each recording. You don’t think Louis Armstrong didn’t want to stretch out on those Hot Fives Chicago takes?

So, here we are in 2026 with digital recording and what can sometimes feel like an overabundance of preserved information. A musician who has access to these tools, has recorded numerous legendary works, has released a high-profile book on his life, and has won the Pulitzer Prize, uses his platform to explore what might happen if you have something important to say, but have limited technology to preserve that statement.

Cut You Where You Was, while containing two songs in the six to ten minute range, features some of the Zooid’s shortest pieces to date. Five of the ten tracks do not even reach the two minute mark. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing the first full listen I completed of the album. Seriously, I thought a glitch had occurred, because there was no way that, say “Lightnin’,” the eighth song on the album, was only one and a half minutes long.

What I find fascinating about this album is what it does with these self-imposed, self-conscious, music-socio-exploratory limitations.

Listen, for example, to a trio of works titled “Bingo.” Each track, labeled “Part 1,” “Part 2,” and “Part 3” clearly are intended to be understood as one set, three parts to one work. Threadgill, who uses his flute to spend “Part 1” interacting delicately with tuba player Jose Davila and guitarist Liberty Ellman, sounds all but cut-off when the work ends around the 2:10 mark. “Part 2” then picks up with the band approaching full tilt, with flute, tuba and guitar much more kinetic. To me, it feels like I have missed something, the development between these two sections is gone. “Part 3” then opens with Threadgill on an insistent percussive alto sax. Now drummer Elliot Humberto Kavee produces thundering rolls on toms and Christopher Hoffman saws away on cello. Where did this new energy and altered instrumentation come from? The music, beautiful as it may be, seems like it has had sections gone unrecorded until the engineer replaced the new wax cylinder or fed the new tape into the four track machine.

This brevity, in turn, allows listeners to perceive just how much is missed with “Red Admiral Red Moon Rising.” Cutting the album directly in half at track number five, “Red Moon” is the most expansive of these new works and lasts over twelve minutes. The piece features gorgeously lyrical cello work by Hoffman, who uses variations of Threadgill’s intervallic compositional system to paint a single line that eventually sweeps across the sonic atmosphere until it chortles into a section of staccato bow strokes and a final downward glissando that Threadgill echoes when he follows with his own solo. So much of Threadgill’s solo speaks back to Hoffman that I wonder if large sections have been written out. If so, their voices mimic a conversation among close friends. If improvised, their voices are a conversation among close friends. Ellman then enters with a guitar solo, also closely mirroring the melodic and rhythmic material from the saxophone solo. It turns out that when intelligent voices are given a chance to speak, they have important information to relay.

The eighth Zooid album, falling some twenty-five years after the band’s first recording Up Popped The Two Lips, demonstrates again just how much music Threadgill has in him and how clearly intricate and malleable the intervallic system of composing and improvising can be. This is far more than some academic exercise for a panel of Columbia jurors. Cut You Where You Was allows listeners to examine what happens when voices are silenced and to witness what is missing when these voices fully enter the conversation. And if one needs any more evidence that this is an important document, one can simply look at how many voices have been officially cut out of the conversation in the United States in just the month that has followed the record’s August 2026 release. Cut You Where You Was has already proven prescient. And, despite the trenchant insight of its art, I wish it were less so.

Cut You Where You Was can be heard here:

Cut You Where You Was by Henry Threadgill

Wenchi Lazo and Luciana Bass - Mientras Exista (Self-released, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Tue, 27 Oct 2026 05:00:00 +0000

By Hrayr Attarian

Argentinian guitarists Wenchi Lazo and Luciana Bass are intrepid improvisers and virtuosic performers. In solo settings or in a group, both push the boundaries of musical expression and aren't afraid to experiment. is their first recorded collaboration, and it is a stimulating set of seven duets that not only demonstrates their camaraderie but also their superb individual musicianship.

The pieces are intimate and mostly contemplative. “Con Reglos”, for instance, is made up of sparse strums and single notes that echo in the intervening pauses. The tempo increases at the midpoint, but then the introspective dialogue returns to its quiet yet expectant mood. Both artists anticipate one another’s phrases and respond with poignancy and grace, even when they embrace thrilling dissonance.

In contrast, “Porción de Sigio” is more mellifluous and serene. The shimmering exchanges build a darkly abstract ambiance. At times, the blend of ethereal sounds and lyricism gives the tune an otherworldly, lullaby-like aura. The result is a haunting and poetic conversation, or rather an overlap of two complementary yet distinct monologues.

At times, the improvisations grow fiery, and the interplay between Lazo and Bass becomes delightfully riotous. “Si Lo Zamarrea el Chucho” is a dense and passionate soundscape, with each guitarist taking their turn weaving twangy lines and blistering chords into a provocative, spontaneous creation. The mood is spirited and exciting, with hefty doses of both angst and whimsy.

The album closes with the haunting and futuristic “Poncho Gradual”. Here, the pair uses silence as a third band member, carefully positioning their melodic fragments for a memorable effect. Thus, the track feels like a theme for an eerie, transcendent ritual and the perfect conclusion to this brilliant, absorbing recording.

Mientras Existais a beautiful work that is not self-indulgent, even though it demands close listening. For those who are willing to surrender to its charm, however, it makes for an intensely rewarding experience.

Mientras exista by Wenchi Lazo Luciana Bass

Sunny Murray/Sabu Toyozumi - Sun’s Blessings (Nobusiness Records, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Mon, 26 Oct 2026 05:00:00 +0000

By Ferruccio Martinotti

Ah, what gifts music offers us! Forgive such a banal intro, but it's the first thought that comes to mind just by having an album like this in our hands, even before listening to it. We're faced with a true Clash of the Titans, or rather, a Clash of the Eras that gives rise to a historical moment. The date is April 4, 1999, and the host of this "Rumble In The Mountain" is Hokkaido, Sapporo's Zippy Hall, a small venue with a capacity of 130 (lucky them…) people.

On one side of the ring, from Idabel, Oklahoma, James Marcellus Arthur "Sunny" Murray, embodying the Classic Period of our music and the incredible epic that permeated it. Among the first, along with Milford Graves, to unchain the drums from purely rhythmic tasks and push them to explore uncharted timbral textures, Murray was the sword arm of Cecil Taylor and Albert Ayler, with whom he recorded At The Café Montmartre and Spiritual Unity, two albums that moved The Clock forward 20 years, to which it is ontologically impossible to attribute any star. His collaborations with Archie Shepp, Dave Burrell, Arthur Doyle, and David Murray are extraordinary, while his hyper saturated solo release Sonny’s Time Now, (Ayler, Cherry, Grimes and Worrell to complete the monstrous line-up), is in the Hall of Fame of our all-time favorites. “One of those crucial figures in jazz who appear just when they are needed”, said Val Wilmer about him.

On the opposite side of the square, from Yokohama, Japan, sits Yoshisaburo “Sabu” Toyozumi, an affiliate, together with Kaoru Abe, Masayuki Takayanagi, Masahiko Togaghi, Masahiko Sato and Mototeru Takagi, with the Sonic Terrorists Squad that pushed free music where no one thought it was possible. We've always liked to think that, if the Free of the '60s was the punk of jazz, the subsequent European school was its hardcore declination, but from the Land of the Rising Sun they pulverized even this, going further, much further. Since you're here, this is probably a redundant suggestion, but if by chance you haven't already, by all means get Soejima Teruto's book Free Jazz in Japan: A Personal History, an unmissable account of that period and those fearless characters. In 1971, Toyozumi became the first non-American member of the AACM and in the following years actively participated in inviting some of his Masters, such as Broetzmann, Bailey, Mengelberg, and Murray himself, to play in Japan. The Clash of Sapporo, which unfolds through two songs, "Mischievous Saga" and "Brave Warriors," is not wrestling, it's a real fight between top-notch Heavyweights, punching with nothing but their drums and cymbals, no other instruments, no post-production.

While we'd listened to (without being too keen on) a few solo drums records, an outfit like this represents an absolute novelty for us, one that has won us over unconditionally. Don't get misled by figuring out an individual, sterile show of strength, since here we have by both the contenders, the clear, shared aim to join forces to generate a brand new Mega Rhythm. It would be perhaps a sterile exercise to talk about interplay between two drummers, but what emerges from the album in an absolutely compelling way is the willingness (there's no need to waste a single syllable on their skills, obviously) of the two Champions to mutually find common ground, within dynamics that are sometimes seismic, sometimes more delicate (relatively speaking...), or to leave part of these spaces to the other, in a smooth and natural way, without the listener feeling like one of them is putting down the drumsticks for a while.

Not easy listening for sure, but Forum’s readers will certainly have no problems tackling this 65 minutes of challenging music from a one of a kind, extraordinary album. No ifs or buts.

Lao Dan and Vasco Trilla @ Old Heaven Books

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Sun, 25 Oct 2026 05:00:00 +0000

While doing a little browsing about the NoBusiness record label's website, this video jumped out - a performance by the masterful musicians Lao Dan and Vasco Trilla (woodwinds and percussion, respectively). The duo released a recording together on the label called New Species in 2025 and this performance was captured at Old Heaven Books in Shenzhen, China.

The first two video's of the performance are shared here, in which we first encounter Lao Dan playing a traditional Chinese clarinet-like instrument, followed by part two where he switches wooden flute. The later links to parts 3 and 4 lead to Trilla's Youtube channel where the saxophone come into play.

Part 1

Part 2

See: Part 3 & Part 4

Ivo Perelman and Matt Shipp - Duologues 7: Distillation (Squid Note, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Sat, 24 Oct 2026 04:00:00 +0000

By Sammy Stein

Pianist Matthew Shipp and tenor saxophonist Ivo Perelman have developed a three-decade-long musical relationship where both musicians explore improvisation in a collaboration that continues to develop. Each of them plays with different musicians and continues on their individual musical journey, but when they come together, the distillation of the experience results in an ever-developing relationship and one where each allows the other to bring whatever new ideas they have to the table, no matter if these are predictable or unexpected, disruptive, and revelatory.

As they continually circle back to each other and record, the language of their music changes in subtle ways. Both musicians have played alongside and collaborated with many other musicians, while they remain powerfully individual; their shared knowledge shines through in their collaborations.

What comes of three decades or more of collaboration is an immediacy of reaction and interaction – a kind of musical telepathy that is difficult to capture but is apparent to the listener. Neither always leads nor always follows, but both revel in shifting emphasis, nuances that only come from playing with someone over time. This is reflected by the way one will introduce a new idea, or pathway, and the other will reflect the same idea, not as imitation but as recognition – a deep, intuitive echo.

Their playing has become not so much a conversation, as is often the case between improvising musicians listening intently to each other, but is more of a shared delivery, a unanimous development of ideas shared with the listener.

Both have worked in larger configurations, but the saxophone-piano duo reveals each at their most exposed and far from the prosaic. Their previous projects have shown their duo evolution from different perspectives, demonstrating how freely improvised music can acquire coherence not through predetermined structure but through accumulated trust, memory and intense listening.

Duologue 7: Distillation sees Perelman and Shipp back in the exposed, elemental setting of just piano and sax and one-take sessions of completely improvised recordings that give enough material for two CDs. There is no need to explain; there is just the music and the melodic fragments, insertions of traditional tunes alongside completely improvised phrases, silence (which is used so effectively), rhythmic pattern changes, sudden register switches, and a duologue that at times is expressed almost as voices rather than music, as both musicians find the full range of their instruments.

With Shipp and Perelman, there is no revisiting history, no repeating of anything that has gone before, but a new dialogue each time, bringing with it the familiar rhythmic intensity, changes, and multi-register expression, but also new ideas, perhaps picked up in the time they spend apart in other projects, and they challenge, support and improvise alone as feels right, communicating their deep and long-lasting collaboration but also offering the listener a new take on just how good music can be with no score.

The two-CD set comprises nine tracks on disc 1 and ten on disc two, numbered, as ever, track 1-9 (disc 1) and 10-19 (disc 2), and there is something for every Shipp or Perelman aficionado – or anyone with a love of freely improvised music. From the gentleness and conversational tone of track 1, where the music evolves from a to and fro to a gentle, swingy back and forth with fewer spaces between responses, to the classical-meets-improvised styles on track 3, or the intensity and depth of Track 4, the playfulness of track 5 or the divergent parts of Track 9, there is a lot to take in. On Disc 2, the explorative quality of the music is more evident, with Perelman setting up ideas more on this second part of the release. On Tracks 10 to 14, Perelman travels some unconventional roads on tenor sax with Shipp supporting, and then in Track 15 it is Shipp who dictates the atmosphere and thematic tone of the number.

Distillation is a CD set that invites exploration and several listens. You can hear the classical leanings of both musicians, but also the application of known musical concepts to create improvised music that comes not just from an idea in the brain but is coupled with a sound understanding of how tonality and relativity of the notes and parts affect the outcome.

This is improvised music in its truest form, not so much a musical relationship, but an ever-evolving force.

Duologues 7: Distillation by Ivo Perelman and Matthew Shipp

Other Galaxies : an interview with DoYeon Kim

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Fri, 23 Oct 2026 04:00:00 +0000

DeYeon Kim. Photo by Hyun Park

By David Cristol

Following in the footsteps of traditionnally-trained, pioneering female Asian artists such as Japan's Michiyo Yagi and Miya Masaoka (specialists of the cumbersome koto) and China's Min Xiao-Fen (pipa, known for her duets with Derek Bailey) playing hard-to-tune instruments in free music contexts, DoYeon Kim has been a consistent presence on the scene in the past few years. A rigorously-educated virtuoso of the gayageum, a silk-string zither and variant of the Chinese guzheng, the Seoul-born musician moved to the USA to study and perform under the guidance of Joe Morris at the New England Conservatory. The acclaimed bassist/guitarist and educator helped open her ears and heart to the great wide world of contemporary composition and improvisation, from Anton Webern to Anthony Braxton, and encouraged her to find her voice. Her appetite for encounters, stunning-sounding instrument, intense vocals and theatrical flair took the scene by storm. She's played and recorded with a wide array of key artists : Cooper-Moore, Peter Evans, Satoshi Takeishi, Cyro Baptista, Brandon Lopez, Lesley Mok, Sonia Belaya, Tomas Fujiwara, Matt Mitchell, Michael Bisio as well as Europeans Elias Stemeseder & Christian Lillinger (on Intakt's "Umbra" and Plaist's "Antumbra"), these searching minds eager to marry their sounds to the distinctive ones of that most singular of apparatuses, performed by such a powerhouse individual. 2026 saw Kim's visibility increase, with performances at major festivals and the release of her debut album as a bandleader, on jazz label Tao Forms. On stage, seated cross-legged in traditional robes, she makes audiences feel like taking part in a ritual. Amidst a hefty touring schedule, the artist tells the Free Jazz Collective about her journey so far.

Photo by Hillel Kim

Could you start by telling our readers about your instrument and training?

The gayageum has been used in both court music and folk traditions. The 12-string court gayageum and the 12-string sanjo gayageum are different in their construction, playing techniques, and musical traditions, even though both have 12 strings. There are also modernized versions such as the 18-string and 25-string gayageum. I attended the National Korean Music High School, a specialized high school for Korean traditional music, and later majored in Korean traditional music at Seoul National University, so I was trained to play and understand these different forms of the instrument.

Does your playing in free music situations maintain a link to the traditional ways of playing the gayageum? Do you see it as an expansion or a departure from those traditions?

It could be seen as an expansion of tradition, or perhaps even as exploring new territory, but I don’t really think about it that way when I play. What I focus on is what I want to say, what it means to me, and how I can communicate it as clearly and honestly as possible. For me, it’s simply a way of expressing myself through the instrument. Whether that is an expansion of tradition or a departure from it, I’m not sure. Either way to perceive it, from a listener's point of view, is valid.

Are you composing and reading from Western sheet music writing conventions, when playing the gayageum?

Yes. I read Western staff notation, usually using the grand staff. I also compose using Western notation when I write for the gayageum, although I sometimes adapt the notation to capture certain nuances of the instrument and my playing technique. I started out learning the piano and reading from scores, and am still studying scores by XXth century composers, from Bartók to Morton Feldman.

At Joe's Pub, NY, 8 July 2025. Photo by Melanie Mor

Are your vocals connected to the Korean tradition, or does it come from another influence?

Honestly, I’m not sure. I never had any formal vocal training, so I just sing according to what I hear, feel, and imagine. I don’t consciously think about whether it comes from Korean tradition or free jazz. It’s probably a combination of all the music I’ve heard and experienced, and ultimately I just try to follow my own instincts. While in middle and high school, whenever we finished a midterm or final exam, my friends and I would go to karaoke to release all the stress. I would just scream my heart out - maybe that was part of my vocal training after all.

This year you played at New York's Winter Jazz Fest, Vision Festival, Jazztopad New York edition, Knoxville's Big Ears, and released your first album as a bandleader. How do you handle all the activity?

I feel grateful for all of it. And I don’t think any of this could have happened through my efforts alone. Whit Dickey and Steven Joerg at Tao Forms have believed in my music and supported me a lot, which made it possible for my first album as a bandleader to come into the world. And with Tyshawn Sorey, Mat Maneri and Henry Fraser, who play on the album, my ideas and what I wanted to express came through fully and honestly. My manager Matt Merewitz has also been working hard behind the scenes to promote my music, along with many other people who have helped me along the way. All of the opportunities have come from people who have believed in my music and invited me into their spaces. I’m deeply grateful to everyone who has trusted me enough to invite me to be part of festivals and communities. And thanks to all of this, I’ve been able to meet so many wonderful new people - I’m grateful for these unexpected and precious connections that music continues to bring into my life.

My favorite track on your album is the epic Linear System. You seem connected with nature and the elements, from the album cover to song titles. Where does your inspiration come from?

That means a lot to me. Human beings are part of nature, and that idea is deeply connected to the way I think about the gayageum. If you look inside the sound box of the gayageum, the backboard is traditionally associated with the sky, the human, and the earth. Isn’t that beautiful? The sound feels like it connects the sky to the earth, with the human being the bridge between them. I think of music in a similar way—as something that is part of this larger natural world and connects us to something beyond ourselves. That’s why, as you noticed, the album cover also has this image of the sky, the human, and the earth. The river in the photograph is actually the sound box of the gayageum, and the snow reflects both the sky and the earth. Everything is connected. After the pandemic, I started thinking a lot about making music that wasn’t only about myself, but that could connect me to the world around and other people. As I followed that thought, I began to feel that music and the natural world were somehow one and the same.

Isn't there a tone discrepancy between the gayageum and Western instruments - and did you call on Mat Maneri because he's an expert of micro-tonalities and would bridge the two worlds?

The first time I heard Mat play, his sound felt incredibly familiar. The way he plays around the pitch, bends notes, and moves between different shades of sound felt natural to my ears. Beyond that, his energy, charisma and expressiveness always move me deeply. So I didn’t really choose him simply because I thought he could bridge the tuning systems of the gayageum and Western instruments. I wasn’t thinking about the relationship between the two tuning systems that much, but about Mat as a person and as a musician. His music is so compelling to me, and I simply wanted to make music with him. I felt the same way about Tyshawn and Henry. I wasn’t choosing them because they could solve a particular musical problem. I was drawn to who they are as musicians and people, and wanted to hear what would happen when we played together.

Photo by Alex Joseph

Rhythm is often neglected or discarded by free improvisers, but is definitely present in your work. What's your relationship to rhythm and music genres that have a lot of rhythm?

Because I pluck and strike the strings with my right hand, there’s naturally a very percussive quality to the sound of the gayageum. The physical act of playing the instrument itself creates rhythm, so rhythm has always been very deeply connected to the way I play. For me, rhythm actually comes before melody. Rhythm is one of the most fundamental and instinctive forms of human communication. Before we even have words or melodies, there is something very powerful about a pulse, a repetition, a gesture, or a physical movement that allows us to connect with one another. So I see rhythm almost as a natural human language. Rhythm feels fundamental to me, whether I’m improvising freely or working with repetition, grooves, or other rhythmically driven music.

Last summer you played in New York and toured Europe in a trio with Kris Davis and Tom Rainey. How did that go?

Touring with Kris and Tom was an incredible experience. I learned a lot from them, felt very alive on stage and felt a sense of infinite possibility in the music. Kris created a supportive environment that allowed me to focus on the gayageum and explore what I could do with it. As both a bandleader and a mentor, she gave me a lot of generous advice and encouragement. The tour became something I will never forget. European audiences were warm and open, people seemed to genuinely enjoy the music and were very curious about it. The meaningful conversations we had made me feel that we were connecting as human beings, through the music, reminding me why I make music in the first place.

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"I first heard DoYeon Kim when we played an informal trio session with Tom Rainey at my practice studio. We clicked immediately musically, and I was struck by her energy, joyfulness as a player, and the command and expressive range she has on her instrument. I looked for an opportunity to include her in a project and invited her to guest on my record "Spirit, Fire Fact". At first, I had envisioned her as part of the centerpiece, Splitting Silent Stars, which I hold dear because it was composed in memory of my father, who passed away in 2024. The piece is very much about the knottiness of grief and letting go, and it is speech-like in parts. DoYeon Kim’s playing seemed to have just the right combination of wild abandon, spirituality, and gentleness that I needed. Once we started working on it, I enjoyed it so much that she became part of the rest of the album as well—often doubling the guitar to create a kind of augmented string instrument. I have since played DoYeon’s music as well, which is visceral, guttural, and elegant at the same time. I look forward to more opportunities to work together." (Ingrid Laubrock)

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DoYeon Kim, Chris Tordini, Anna Webber, Ryan Easter, Ingrid Laubrock,
Yuma Uesaka, Ches Smith, Mary Halvorson, David Virelles.
Photo by TF Huff (Intakt Records)

How did you meet with Ingrid Laubrock and first played together?

During the pandemic, I discovered Ingrid’s music through her album Blood Moon (Intakt, 2020) with Kris Davis, and became interested in her playing. After I moved to New York, I started going to her performances, and eventually had an opportunity to play with Tom Rainey, which led to meeting Ingrid.

How did Ingrid adapt to the specifics of the instrument, when composing?

I think she approached the piece in a special way. Rather than focusing primarily on the specific characteristics or limitations of the gayageum, she trusted me as a musician and wrote for me as DoYeon. In a way, because she didn’t try to fit the composition into a specific “gayageum framework”, I had more freedom to express myself and bring my own musical language to the piece. It felt less like adapting the instrument to a composition and more like creating a space where the instrument, the music, and I could meet naturally.

Can you tell us about the upcoming "Spirit, Fire, Fact" album, and how do you feel about playing those compositions live?

I feel honored to be part of that new album by Ingrid, it still feels a little surreal to me. The album carries the care, passion, and love of every musician who was involved in it. Tom Rainey, Brandon Seabrook, and Shawn Lovato are all musicians I admire and love listening to, and it was a great pleasure to make music together. Everyone was deeply committed from their own position, and ideas could emerge freely among us. Ingrid, as a leader, was open and flexible in receiving those ideas, while at the same time being extremely clear about her own foundation and what she wanted the music to be. Watching her lead with such flexibility and clarity taught me a great deal. I also love that the energy of the music changes when we play it live. Something new happens between the musicians and the audience in the moment. I’m thrilled to bring this music to Switzerland [at the unerhört festival in Zürich] and experience what happens with it live. Ingrid’s playing is extraordinary, of course, but I also like that her character and humanity are enclosed in her compositions. I had listened to her music and looked at her scores before, but playing her music and experiencing it from inside the ensemble allowed me to feel those qualities on a deeper and more personal level.

At the same festival you're scheduled to do a workshop.

It will be my first time visiting Zürich and meeting the students at the University of the Arts. I hope I can share something from my own experience with them, and learn new perspectives from them as well. I will also be performing some of the pieces from "Wellspring" with them.

What are your next projects and collaborations?

I’m thinking about four projects right now. The first is an expansion of the DoYeon Kim Quintet. I’ve already written music around the Five Stages of Grief, and I’d like to develop that material into a much larger project, with choir, tuba, trombone, trumpet, violin, cello, bass, percussion, gayageum, and voice. I’d also love to make a video alongside the recording, so that the project can exist not only as an album but also as a visual work.

The second project is quite different. I'm planning on creating music using electronic sounds with gayageum, drums, and voice. I think you’ll hear a completely different energy and another side of my musical world.

The third is a string trio I’ve started with Gabby Fluke-Mogul and Lester Saint-Louis. This group is focused on improvisation.

The fourth is a collaboration with a string quartet called The Rhythm Method. They commissioned me to write a new piece for gayageum and string quartet, which we’ll perform next year. What makes this project exciting is that it won’t just be about playing music — the performance will also include acting, singing, and movement. I’m looking forward to exploring how all of these elements can come together on stage.

What musicians are you listening to at the moment and can you name one you'd like to play with?

I’m currently listening to Thomas Strønen’s music, whom I recently had a chance to play with. I’m also a big fan of Barry Guy, whom I had the chance to play with in Barcelona in 2019, and I remember being completely captivated when he played his solo. He played so beautifully that, for a moment, I almost forgot that I was also performing. Given the opportunity, I would love to play with him again.

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Latest releases :

DoYeon Kim - Wellspring (Tao Forms, 2026)

Anna Webber - It's easier to imagine the end of the world... (Intakt, 2026)

Ingrid Laubrock's Grammy Season - Spirit, Fire, Fact (Intakt, 2026) (December)

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Live :

Mark Dresser Gradience Quartet

Oct 23 : Angel City Jazz Festival, Los Angeles (US)

Oct 28 : University of California, San Diego (US)

Nick Dunston's Spider Season

Nov 10 : Stony Brook Festival, New York (US)

DoYeon Kim solo

Nov 14 : Rockit Festival, Groningen (NL)

DoYeon Kim & Sun-mi Hong

Nov 16 : Pocket Concerts, Utrecht (NL)

DoYeon Kim Quartet

Nov 21: Jazztopad Festival, Wroclaw (PL)

DoYeon Kim & Workshopband ZHdK

Nov 26 : unerhört! Jazzfestival, Zürich (CH)

Ingrid Laubrock's Grammy Season

Nov 27 : unerhört! Jazzfestival, Zürich (CH)

Florian Arbenz, Greg Osby, and Bill Frisell - Quiet Lights (Hammer Recordings, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Thu, 22 Oct 2026 04:00:00 +0000

By Brian Earley

Swiss born drummer/percussionist Florian Arbenz has spent much of his time in the post-pandemic years working to join peoples of different ages, cultures, and genres together. His Conversation LAB, which serves as the philosophical groundwork of this release, posits “respect,” for “diversity and a spirit of togetherness, both in music and in society,” ideals that have become all but illegal in the United States in 2026, as well as in some parts of Europe, Asia, and South America. Here in the United States, our administration just proposed new laws that would financially punish secondary schools and universities if they “provide targeted support to minority students” according to a USA Todayreport, and even bike lanes have been officially assailed as supporting diversity and equity too much, a statement which sounds laughable until one sees that this logic stripped away over one billion dollars of funding.

The voice of Arbenz and other active artists are needed at this moment more than ever in my lifetime. And, for this project Florian Arbenz, who hails from Basel, Switzerland, has brought together guitarist Bill Frisell, a white man from Denver by way of Baltimore, with saxophonist Greg Osby, a black man from St. Louis. There should be nothing radical about this, and we cannot allow our bars of social expectation to sink so low that this seems a departure from normalcy. It is not 1960, but even in that year it should not have been an act of moral resistance for Dave Brubeck to refuse to tour without bassist Eugene Wright.

For this lovely album Arbenz utilizes lessons he learned in Havana, Cuba years ago, and, to a lesser extent on this particular project, rhythmic techniques from Western Asia and India. Quiet Lights opens with a “rhumba-inspired” song penned by Arbenz titled “Homenaje.” There is so much peace in this work, that I have found myself listening to its at times longingly sad, at times soaringly optimistic, timbre over and over. The work begins with Arbenz playing a complicated rhythmic pattern on drum-kit and custom-made percussion tools. As is common throughout the album, Arbez does not abandon time, but he doesn’t exactly play it metronomically either, instead opening up percussive and rhythmic air that allow Osby and Frisell to sail like a breeze through the upper stories of a temple. The four minute mark on this piece, for example, contains so much human-musical information that, if for only a moment, joy is alive and manifest.

There are several other highlights on this album. One is found in the second song, “Chant.” This, like every other piece on the album save one, is again composed by Arbenz, who claims he is “inspired by Max Roach’s vision of the drummer as composer.” “Chant” commits one of the drummer’s most radical moves as a percussionist: his drums are barely audible as he allows Osby’s floating saxophone and Frisell’s ethereal legato guitar to fill the room. “Lueget vo Berg und Tal,” a traditional Swiss song, again features cymbals and bells played with quiet intimacy as Frisell drifts in liquid time.

The closer “Rhumba” features more kinetic and energetic drumming from Arbenz. Here, he creates an array of rhythmic templates that Osby and Frisell collectively use as a counterpoint to their own adventurous improvisations. Arbenz has stated that the Conversation LAB approach, while using form and clarity, should focus on spontaneous creation and the musicians should be “authentic” and “truly unique.” “Rhumba” perhaps demonstrates this concept more completely than any other part of the recording.

In closing I will say the silent part out loud. I am well aware that Greg Osby is a divisive musician for readers of the FJC. Frisell and Arbenz are also names that one does not immediately associate with free jazz. However, while portions of this album are clearly in the pocket, all three creators work in beautiful moments full of impromptu colorations and communal development. There are no overdubs whatsoever. Nearly every track is a first take, and the entire album was recorded in four hours one afternoon in September. There is something reassuring, calming even, about the close listening and spontaneous responses of the musicians here. I might even add the word hopeful. Quiet Lights is, at the very least, worth an open-minded listen.

One can listen to Quiet Lights here:

QUIET LIGHTS by Florian Arbenz, Greg Osby, Bill Frisell

Tom Challenger & Evan Parker - May Spring Last A Lifetime (False Walls, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Wed, 21 Oct 2026 04:00:00 +0000

By Dan Sorrells

I won't spend much time describing the sound of May Spring Last A Lifetime. It is a searching, bursting 53 minute duet of tenor saxophones, one of which is played by Evan Parker, recorded in pristine clarity in Ramsgate. It may be worth noting that, at 81, Parker's had a long enough recording career that this isn't the first (or even fifth) tenor duet put to tape, Parker having spared with other tenors wielded by the likes of Anthony Braxton, Joe McPhee, John Tchicai, Hans Koch, and Urs Leimgruber. Here, his partner is Tom Challenger (quite a surname given the context!), a significantly younger musician who is a familiar face on the London scene, playing with musicians like Olie Brice and Kit Downes and in groups like Brass Mask. Challenger is an admirable match for Parker, and both players stick closely to each other through gradual turns of technique and dynamics. Above all, there is space for things to develop.

In the five or so years between Challenger and Parker's first meeting and the recording of May Spring Last A Lifetime, the two developed an informal process where they would meet with their tenors, pausing between bouts of playing to talk about their instruments and the music they were making. In the extended and wonderful conversation in the liner notes between Challenger, Parker, and False Walls label head CJ Mitchell, Challenger says that what felt significant about their duo was that, having "no goal of performance" for so many years, it felt like practice. Parker points out that "practice" is a "complicated" word, and what concerns the two is not practice in the sense of repetitively mastering the "how" of playing the instrument, but rather in approaching the "how" of playing together. Challenger characterizes this practice as the "joint activity" of "discover[ing] that you're not in control," "playing something when you're not really sure of what you're doing" and trying "to figure out what the hell that is."

As the conversation winds on, something possibly controversial is revealed: May Spring Last A Lifetime is not a single take of a herculean imaginative feat. It captures a typical meeting between the two, but has the pauses, the conversations, the breaks to change reeds removed. And not only are these gaps omitted, but Challenger has then rearranged the musical pieces. In an era where the perennial debate about the legitimacy or authenticity of recordings of improvised music has largely receded, and where there are more recordings than any one lifetime could survey, I'll admit to still bristling at this revelation. (For his part, Parker also seemed skeptical at first—or at the very least, like such an idea simply wouldn't have occurred to him). As I read on, Challenger's explanation was compelling, so much so that I think the choice becomes one of the most interesting things about May Spring Last A Lifetime. It stipulates that, yes, of course fidelity to a long-since-evaporated musical event is out of the question. But what if that's somehow more true to our experience?

Put plainly, Challenger says that the "purest perception" he has of recording with Parker, "of that event, is my memory." Only in the first order experience of the music in the moment that it happened can one be said to (maybe) have some sort of undiluted access. Even that is as evanescent as the notes themselves, immediately mediated. Everything after each vanishing instant is memory: inevitably shuffled, reordered, rendered diffuse. "The cool thing is that you can just change that perception in your head," says Challenger. This is how we engage with our memory. To alter the order of the music "isn't so problematic, because actually, when I think of it, I think of that memory, [and] I'm still reordering it all the time."

Sitting here, listening to a recording released long after the players vibrated the air in a room half the world away, I wonder what it is about Challenger's reconstruction that even caused the question of authenticity to enter my mind. Was it because I had a romanticized assumption about what I was hearing, and then the illusion was shattered? Do I really value something more about continuity or stamina than I do the actual engagement and creativity reflected in the music? Am I imposing some condition of purity on this document to assuage the guilt of having to encounter the music in this form? "You had to be there." But I wasn't. Is there something about Challenger reordering the pieces but concealing their seams that exhumes some dusty old bugbear, that maybe we haven't assimilated the troubles with recordings of free improvisation so much as repressed them?

It occurs to me that I've already encountered a version of all of this—and with Parker, to boot. Many years ago, I attended a performance of Parker, Nate Wooley, and Joe Morris that was later released as Ninth Square on Clean Feed. When I put that CD on, I recognize none of the music despite being mere feet from the players as it happened. My memories of the event have more to do with the setting and a sort of charged air of anticipation than with any kind of musical content. Ninth Squarehas six tracks—much like the six segments Challenger arranged into May Spring Last A Lifetime —and while several run one into the next, I couldn't possibly tell you whether those tracks accurately represented any portion of the two sets that were played that evening. What Challenger asks us to recognize is that these ambiguities and distortions are true for the people who make the music, too. We are all forced into reencounters that render things differently and newly. For all of us who weren't with Parker and Challenger in the Arco Barco studio, we're invited through Challenger's edits to partially occupy the perspective of one of the music's creators as they also turn it over in their mind.

Thinking about May Spring Last A Lifetime sent me to the bookshelf, where I pulled down David Grubbs' Records Ruin the Landscape,which delightfully mucks about in the same quagmire . I'm ruminating about these questions here because now, in a world awash in recordings of improvised music, a world where many listeners engage more frequently and more deeply with recordings than with live performance, there are very few albums that seem to dare us to contemplate how we engage with this music. The pleasures of sharing in what Parker and Challenger created together have little to do with chronological integrity. They are also not limited to those conveyed by physical presence. You don’t need to be aware of any of what I’ve discussed to partake in them. And if the way we encounter the music on May Spring Last A Lifetime is not quite true-to-life, it remains true to the spirit in which it was created, and—just as in Challenger's memory—the journey of two tenor saxophones becomes a contoured and nuanced surface and not merely the straight line between a start and a stop.

May Spring Last a Lifetime by Tom Challenger & Evan Parker

Henri Herteman, Michel Kristof, Claude Parle, Jean-Luc Petit - At the oasis (self-released, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Tue, 20 Oct 2026 04:00:00 +0000

By Richard Blute

“Midnight at the oasis,
Send your camel to bed.”

-Maria Muldaur

Today we’re looking at the album At The Oasis from Henri Herteman on trombone and piano, Michel Kristof on guitar, Claude Parle on accordion, and Jean-Luc Petit on sax. I had previously reviewed the album Fisheye which had the same lineup except with Makoto Sato on drums rather than Petit. It was one of my favorite albums of 2025. So I hit play with a great deal of excitement. In Part.I, we’re treated to some vivid accordion from Parle. It’s the perfect introduction to the album. Then Petit jumps in with a bleat and some expressive soloing with just the right amount of overblowing. Herteman is on piano here urging the music forward in lieu of drums, and Kristof adds some droning, almost alien sounding atmospherics. They quickly build to a fine crescendo. It’s clear that the musicians are deeply invested in the music and really enjoy playing together.

Herteman opens Part.II on trombone. After a few questioning notes, Herteman announces his presence. A blast from the trombone is one of the great sounds of jazz and Herteman’s trombone playing throughout is a pure delight. Herteman and Petit have a wonderful dialogue on this piece. Kristof and Parle create a background that is sometimes disorienting and sometimes peaceful, in response to what their bandmates have to say.

I love listening to these musicians play together, since they successfully bridge the gap between a more textural style of free jazz and energy music. It takes very good musicians to be able to do this, and fortunately we have four.

Now I want everyone who remembers the 70s to admit it. You were humming “Midnight At The Oasis” while reading this review, weren’t you?

At the oasis by Henri Herteman, Michel Kristof, Claude Parle, Jean-Luc Petit

Gianni Gebbia - Petrichor (objet-a, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Mon, 19 Oct 2026 04:00:00 +0000

By Ferruccio Martinotti

“To have seen Italy without having seen Sicily is not to have seen Italy at all, for Sicily is the clue to everything”. (J.W. von Goethe)

If there's one artist who embodies the layered, cultured, and restless soul of Sicily, it's Gianni Gebbia. But beware, his musical lexicon is never a regionalist language, but always an extraordinary, challenging, universal Esperanto. Born in Palermo in 1961, he taught himself jazz by gaining experience in numerous Sicilian groups and orchestras and participating in jam sessions with passing American musicians. Like all men from the islands, he couldn't resist the call of the Horizon Line, and in 1980 he moved to New York, where he experienced the "no wave" movement and the last glimmers of the loft scene. During those same years, he attended the legendary University of the Streets on the Lower East Side, directed by saxophonist Muhammad Salahuddeen, before moving to Paris in 1984 to study with Jean-Claude Forenbach and Alan Silva. In 1990, he performed solo at the FMP “Total Music Meeting” in Berlin alongside musicians such as Steve Lacy and Lindsey Cooper, and since 1991, he has collaborated with German percussionist Guenter Baby Sommer and double bassist Peter Kowald, thus reuniting one of the most telluric duos of European free jazz. In 1993 he formed the folk-improv project “Terra Arsa” along with Vittorio Villa and singer Miriam Palma. In recent years, performances have been frequent alongside contemporary and butoh dancers (Masaki Iwana, Tadashi Endo, Antonio Carallo, Julie Stanzak, Yves Musard), poets (Alberto Masala), videomakers (Salvo Cuccia), film and theatre directors (Raul Ruiz, Roberto Andò, Jerome Savary, Guido Chiesa, Vanessa Redgrave, Heiner Goebbels, Aurelien Bory, Stefania Casini, Davide Riondino, Luca Guadagnino, Pina Bausch), visual artists (Toti Garraffa, Nicola Console, Martha Keller, Georgina Starr) and circus artists (Francois Chat, Vera Mormino). The collaborations in the musical field are impressive: Heiner Goebbels, David Moss, Zu, Otomo Yoshihide, Fred Frith, Anatoly Vapirov, Vladimir Tarasov, Jean Marc Montera, Dominique Regef, Louis Sclavis, Pino Minafra, Jim O' Rourke, Lee Ranaldo, Glen Velez, Benoit Delbecq, Noel Akchoté, Antonello Salis, Sergey Kuryokhin, Henri Kaiser, Michel Doneda, Takaoka Daysuke, Shin'ichi Isohata, Reiko Imanishi, Garth Powell, Evan Parker, Francesco Cusa, Domenico Sciajno, Butch Morris, Lukas Ligeti, Elliot Sharp, Shin'ichi Isohata, William Wynant, Satoko Fuji, Dominique Regef, Benoit Delbecq, Lawrence Butch Morris, Wadada Leo Smith, Milford Graves, to name some. Gebbia's ongoing projects in recent years include “Trionacria” alongside Roy Paci on trumpet and Francesco Cusa on drums,“Switters” with Francesco Cusa and Vince Vasi, and “Zen Widow” with Californians Garth Powell and Matt Goodheart. His solo work has continued steadily since 1990. In 2011, he played with Eiko Ishibashi, both in a duo and a trio with bassist Daniele Camarda. In 2013, he formed a new band, “Magnetic Trio”, with which, for his own label “objet-a”, he reinterprets all the compositions created from the 1980s to the present, as a sort of compendium of all his musical experiences. In 2020, he formed the open project "The Fruitful Darkness”, which features Massimo Pupillo and Tony Buck. In 2024, as “The Mayfield” (Heiner Goebbels, Willi Bopp, Cecile Lartigau, Nicolas Perrin, and Camille Emaille), he released an extraordinary album with Intakt Records. In recent years, he has begun studying and using Indian bansuri flutes in his performances, and he cultivates his study of Indian music, having attended courses with the renowned Maestro Hariprasad Chaurasia and his students Debopriya and Suchismita Chatterjee. This interest led to the solo albums “Vapor” and "Calor”, where Gebbia primarily uses the bansuri flute, and the same occurs in Petrichor. Titled with a neologism that combines the Greek words "Petra" (boulder, stone) and "Ichor" (sap), referring to the scent of rain on dry earth, the album unfolds across 11 tracks, all under three minutes, suspended between ambient atmospheres, micro-variations of sound, and sensorial perceptions. The textures of Indian wind instruments and electronics play with Eastern influences without folkloric shortcuts or implausible xerox-effects, but rather through a unique interpretation by someone who has embraced those cultural styles in their soul, even before than in their musical technique. In a single track ("Metabolico"), Gianni returns to the soprano saxophone, while the 11 minutes extended bonus track ("Zazeela") pays homage to Marian Zazeela (April 15, 1940-March 28, 2024), a New York-based artist and musician, member of the experimental music collective "Theater of Eternal Music," known for her collaboration with her husband, composer La Monte Young. For those who dug Shabaka's shakuhachi period but a really great record per se.

PETRICHOR by Gianni Gebbia

Sunday Video - Simon Rose solo

noreply@blogger.com (Stef Gijssels) — Sun, 18 Oct 2026 13:52:55 +0000

Our Sunday video this week offers a beautiful, intimate and well-recorded - both sound and editing - solo performance by British saxophonist Simon Rose, here on baritone. The video lasts only 20 minutes but is a great testimony for Rose's art: captivating, sensitive, explorative, adventurous, physical and as said, also intimate.

I can only advise readers to check out his albums we reviewed on our blog, starting with Vienna Solo, equally from 2024.

Performed at Acker Stadt Palast, Berlin. Curated by Volker Meitz, who also managed the sound and the mixing. Video recording: Florian Japp Editing: Per Jörgen Erkius.

Signe Emmeluth, Dag Erik Knedal Andersen, and Magnus Skavhaug Nergaard - Live at The All Ears Festival (Sonic Transmissions, 2026)

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Acquaro) — Sat, 17 Oct 2026 04:00:00 +0000

By Brian Earley

Signe Emmeluth, the alto saxophonist/composer/band leader/new Danish Thing progenitor/and hyperdynamic cosmic dynamo, burns bright in 2026. I have written about the artist’s work on numerous occasions for the Free Jazz Collective, as have my colleagues (if you missed it and you dig Signe, you need to read this review of Emmeluth’s stunning recording with MoE and Ikuro Takahashi by William Rossi).

What more can Emmeluth give us? I mean, it seems every time I communicate with someone about her, superlatives in the realms of incredible, amazing, or even somehow unexpected are thrown about. My reaction to this may be to say that the English language falls short. These adjectives are not only deserved and accurate, but like all words, they absolutely fail to relay what makes her so special. In 2026 alone Signe has appeared on at least three albums I think may be the album of the year (I have in mind We Vote Force Majeure by Hyper Elastic Jinx, With Love by the Amoeba, and the aforementioned Live at Børsen Kulturhus with MoE and Ikuro Takahashi). She has appeared on numerous other works this year, and will appear on yet another recording with guitarist Karl Borja this coming October. And the range of these recordings is just as sweeping: experimental music versions of compositional suite, punk rock, and new age folk.

On this new release with bassist Magnus Skavhaug Nergaard and drummer/percussionist Dag Erik Knedal Andersen, Emmeluth finds herself this time in a pure free jazz context. What I mean by this is Live at All Ears documents three musicians playing with no prior plan. This is a live set including only one 37 minute take consisting essentially of two tracks. The three allow the music to develop organically in the moment through deep listening, inventive contributions, and intuitive communal connections.

The first of the two works presented here does the bulk of the heavy lifting. Running over 27 minutes, this piece demonstrates all of what these three make function so well. The work opens quietly, with Signe tonguing and repeating an impromptu motif built around a single bent, squeaky note. Knedal Andersen soon enters with bells and overtones from cymbals bowed with sticks. Skavhaug Nergaard simultaneously begins to pluck harmonics on his bass in the album’s first display of a kind of spontaneous communication that appears to fall somewhere between a magic trick and instrumental mastery. The reality, of course, is the three from the outset display the kind of intuitive connection one finds only in the very best moments of free improvisation.

Each musician continues to provide momentum by contributing new developments or by responding to a contribution by another member. Moments like those around the 4:25 or 19:30 marks allow the listener to realize it is fruitless to determine who is the leader and who is the follower on this date as the musicians operate as one collective body of sound. As I listened to this piece, I found myself surprised again and again at how many times I could not figure out whether certain sounds were being created by the drum kit, the double bass, or the alto saxophone. These, after all, are pretty different sounding instruments. Somehow, nonetheless, moments like those around 6:00 or 8:40 provide a wonderful blending and confusion of sonic voices.

The second work runs much shorter at around eight and a half minutes in length. This piece features a prickly start-and-stop collective improvisatory approach, and one of the highlights for me is the theme Emmeluth conjures into being. I do not know if Signe does so intentionally, but the leitmotif here is a melodic fragment used at times by Peter Brötzmann throughout his career. Shortly after Peter’s passing, I remember feeling deeply moved by the posthumous release of Chicken Shit Bingo with the saxophone giant and drummer Paal Nilssen-Love. The theme one hears throughout the second work on Live at All Ears is similar to that played by Peter in “Smuddy Water” on that record.

Emmeluth, Knedal Andersen, and Skavhaug Nergaard manifest interplay and equity for listeners on this Sonic Transmissions release. Exploration, vulnerability, and adventure occupy equally important roles performed with spontaneity and unity. And, if you care to hear what humans sound like at their best when they get together, work together, and create together, I highly recommend giving At All Ears a listen.

Live at the All Ears Festival can be listened to here:

Live At The All Ears Festival by Emmeluth : Knedal Andersen : Skavhaug Nergaard .