By MARK CORROTO, Published: April 2, 2013
Jazz listeners travel some strange and beautiful paths. It might have all begun with collectors trying to find a legendary Edison cylinder that New Orleans trumpeter Buddy Bolden—some believe to be the very first jazz musician—may (or may not) have recorded in 1904. Fast forward to modern times, a quick scan of eBay and the exorbitant prices bid for long out-of-print Free Music Production (FMP) LPs or alternative releases. $150 for Peter Brötzmann's first solo recording and $175, for the Japanese release of the Lounge Lizards' Big Heart (Absord Music, 2004) (which contains three extra tracks) is what a collector is expected to pay.
Like the artist himself, spaceway travelers suffer for their passion. This passion is part fanatical "Albert Ayler is a God," part suffering "do I pay the phone bill or pick up that Art Pepper LP?," and part addiction "really, I can stop listening to Charlie Parker's alternative takes of "Marmaduke" anytime. I promise."
This zeal, while destructive were it to fall into the wrong hands, also preserves and, in a strange way, perpetuates the music.
At least, that's my story and I'm sticking with it.
In the same vein, I will shortly embark on an exciting and challenging listening experience. Next to my stereo is the complete boxed Instant Composers Pool catalog, 52 CDs and 2 DVDs, lovingly compiled with a huge book of Pieter Boersma's photographs, in a limited edition. The box documents 45 years of ICP, from drumme4r Han Bennink's solo performances to the large ensemble concerts. I'm certain this experience will deepen my appreciation of the New Dutch Swing, and my passion for creative music. Anyone else on this journey, email me and we can trade notes. Also, if you have a copy of that Lounge Lizards Japanese pressing of Big Heart and are bored with it, please feel free to send it my way.
Alessandro Bosetti & Chris AbrahamsWe Who Had Left
Mikroton 2012
Alessandro Bosetti's sideways glance at composition and improvisation offers intrepid listeners the opportunity to contemplate any and every sound as music. Speech cadence and patterns turn into melodies, as does electronic fragments and field recordings. From his roots in minimalist improvisation, the singer/electronics manipulator has blossomed into a composer of musical errata that coagulates into various moments of euphonic satori.
On We Who Had Left, he partners with pianist Chris Abrahams (best known for his work in the piano trio The Necks), whose performances generally entail lengthy repetitive hypnotic improvised music. With Bosetti, his keyboard explorations are magnified and elevated by his partner's sampling and occasional repeated word speech melodies.
The presence of Abrahams' piano is an elixir for consuming Bosetti's principles. He forms a context to the spoken reiterations of "We Cannot Imagine" and the one cover tune, pianist Bill Evans' "Waltz For Debby," where he plays straight man to Bosetti's electronic plink/plonk and spoken/sung-in-the-shower rendition. Elsewhere, the exploration of extended melodies and Abraham's taste for slowly developing music are heard on "When They Are Overhead." His patented repetitive piano progression is augmented by Bosetti's electronic chirps, rumbles, whirls and purrs. At nearly fourteen minutes, the track is an abbreviated journey for fans of The Necks' hour-long crescendos, but it also casts a new light on both players' native musical languages.
Sven-Åke Johansson/Lars Greve/August RosenbaumAll Romantic
Hiatus 2013
Come for the history, stay for the show. The attraction here is the iconic Sven-Åke Johansson, percussionist, drummer, and architect of the European avant free music scene. His history with the likes of Peter Brötzmann, pianist Alexander von Schlippenbach, bassist Peter Kowald, andtrumpeter Manfred Schoof in the 1960s and '70s drew players such as trumpeter Axel Dorner and pianist Andrea Neumann into his circle in the '90s. Here, he can be found with the Danish musicians Lars Greve (reeds) and August Rosenbaum (piano).
The seven unnamed tracks are all quiet, slowly developing improvised pieces. Rosenbaum, whose vinyl-only Live LP (Hiatus, 2011) was a coming-out party for the pianist, changes gears here favoring an introverted sound, void of cliché. Same for Greve, who shows a minimalist's restraint, favoring breathy passages and fluttered tongue quotes.
The drummer neither monopolizes the session nor dominates the sound. Like his partners, he quietly goes about his business. A scraped cymbal here, tapping tom-tom there, and the whole of the session vibrates with the unstated and understated. Then again, sometimes silence speaks much louder than sound.
Read more: http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/article.php?id=44260#.UVqeVb_hEhQ
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