There has long been a natural affinity between cisterns and improvisers, especially horn players. The resonance possibilities seem irresistible, though as with any "new" approach or technique there's always the issue of balancing effect with basic musical quality and it's all too easy to lay an overly great weight on the former, hoping it will carry the day. John Butcher has a reasonably full track record with regard to such spaces, his horns even occasionally enhanced by the feedback technology he pioneered. For this recording, he finds himself in the Br�nsh�j Vandt�m water tower, a concrete structure outside of Copenhagen.

The resonant capacity of the environment is apparent from the first note, the deep tenor tone wafting into the near distance. It's difficult (not to mention unnecessary) to figure out how much of the creamy, almost liquid resultant tone is due to the ambience or to Butcher's own sound on the horns, tenor and soprano, as he possesses a uniquely rich, full sound on his own. Indeed, his almost overwhelming technical mastery of the horns (to these ears, there's no finer improvising soprano player out there) is so great that the cisternal influence can verge on being heard as an abundance of riches. But to his credit, he fashions relatively brief pieces, all between about three and seven minutes in length, each with its own attack and a musical vitality independent from, but lovingly intertwined with the ambient effects. As is often the case in his work, there seems to be a subtle song-like aspect to the improvisations, a partially submerged melodicism that's extremely enticing, if slippery to get a good handle on. A piece for soprano like "Elusive Sidestep", is delightful in that respect, with an inevitable and appreciative sidelong glance to Lacy, but with a somberness and precision all Butcher's own. While each track has something to offer, I find myself really enjoying the ones where he simply pours it out and lets the space do what it will with the results, as in the opening, "Shimmers of Connect I", a powerhouse of a performance. On others, such as "Very Hush-Hush", he pursues the natural enough tack of isolated key-pops and whispered breaths, allowing them to hang in the atmosphere, an effective gambit to be sure, but perhaps one where the cistern has more to say than the performer. Though maybe that's as should be.

In any event, The Very Fabric is a delight, an imaginative excursion into and extension of the saxophonal territories that Butcher has mapped out over the decades and an especially strong addition to his solo catalog.