For some unexplicable reason, the British music scene seems to have nurtured more free improvising music collectives than any other of its European neighbors. As far back as the late sixities and early seventies, such luminaries as Eddie Prevost (AMM), John Stevens (Spontaneous Music Ensemble) or Derek Bailey (Company) acted as catalysts for such initiatives. Other similar groupings of likeminded musicians followed, most notably the LMC (London Musicians Collective) and the very ambitious (and large) London Improvisers Orchestra and its Freedom in the City event instituted three years ago. Of the musicians to emerge from this whole realm of British improvised music, Evan Parker is its most notable protagonists, surely on the international scene, and in close to 40 years of dedication to the cause, he has played at one time or another with most of the aforementioned musicians and collectives.
Just two years ago, Parker joined the fray of the indie record business by starting up his own label, PSI records. Since its inception, it has been mainly an outlet for his own work, with occasional releases by some of his old comrades, such as the one by German tenorman Gerd Dudek, Smatter, and a more recent one by Kenny Wheeler (Dream Sequence PSI 03.04). Of the label’s more recent issues, the double cd set under review here finds him in the middle of such a collective, and very much integrated within it as well. In fact, neither he nor anyone else assumes leadership duties, nor are there any set role plays dividing soloists from accompanists. From time to time, though, one player may detach himself from the others and create a kind of lead voice, but quite unlike that of the traditional jazz soloist.
All told, eight players are assembled here, but their numbers vary from track to track. Of the dozen cuts spread over both discs, three are solos (with an opening 13-second "Gong" crash by Evan Parker and dedicated to the late hard-bop drummer Phil Seaman), a trinity of duos and quartets, two trios and a finale involving the whole cast. Though not specified in the booklet, this is most likely all that was played on July 28, 2002, at St-Michael’s Church in Appelby, England, a town whose name may be familiar to those who have heard After Appelby, the brilliant Parker Trio with Marilyn Crispell set on Leo Records.
As is often the case in free music, these sides seem to obey an almost obsessive necessity of documenting everything, as if all sound were/are of the essence. Clocking in at 78 and 74 minutes respectively, these discs certainly abide by that rule, but one still has to wonder about how much is too much. By and large, improvised music is contextual by nature, and the crux of the experience is to be there when it happens. That said, it’s not uncommon for a listener familiar with this kind of music to feel let down by a recording of a live concert they attended, and reasons for that may vary, be it the missing surroundings, the invisibility of the performers, even a less than adequate recording quality. While there is no one way to listen to these tracks, I still doubt very much these two hours and fifteen minutes can be appreciated in one fell swoop.
At 15 and 17 minutes, the two other solo pieces (by violinist Sylvia Hallett and John Edwards) come across as very private soliloquies in which the musicians are more intent on searching for their own sake than projecting something beyond themselves and establishing a line of communication with the listener.
The duos, on the other hand, are more rewarding in that they pair similar instruments, but with quite different results. With soprano in hand, Parker meshes beautifully with veteran clarinetist John Rangecroft ("RE EDEN"). In a little under ten minutes they go down an essentially melodic path, and Parker somewhat surprisingly sculpts his phrases in measured breaths rather than proceeding with his trademark multiphonics and circular breathing marathons. At times, the reedists match gestures, both in playing ranges and phrase lengths, and on more than one occasion they land on neighboring notes which they hold on to in a way that give the dissonances an almost appeasing effect. In contrast, violinist Hallett and cellist Marcio Mattos are more confrontational in their encounter ("PICA PICA"). Repeatedly, their bows attack the strings in full force, with shards of sounds recklessly tossed out and sudden glisses twisted into each other. When listened to right after the previous duo, the effect is all the more impressive, and as such these two pieces offer us a king of yin and yang of free improvising.
The two trio pieces offer yet another interesting spin since both the clarinetist and violonist are heard, each of them with the bass-drums team of John Edwards and Mark Sanders. In the first instance, the reed instrument definitely brings to bear a kind of free-jazz sensibility, especially in the opening and ending of the fifteen-minute track "SUBJECT MATTERS." From the outset, the horn acts as a leading voice, and the player’s burnished sound and all around technical mastery are more traditional in terms of sonics. Yet, he melds himself gradually into the freeplay around him, and up until that last minute or two, all three musicians are inextricably linked to one another so as to make any hierarchical distinctions disappear. More striking is the violinist’s obvious refusal to play up front, and because both she and the bassist use bows, they can more effectively go into each other’s sound.
Closing out the first side are two quartets, the first comprised of the cellist, violinist and clarinetist with the added presence of flutist Neil Metcalf, the second with bassist Edwards and violinist Phil Wachsmann in lieu of the wind players. Because all instruments heard in the first of these quartets encompass the treble range, including the lower pitched cello, the main focus is on timbral exploration, with tones overlapping and rubbing against each other. In the second quartet, however, there is more emphasis on dynamics and velocities, ranging from the extremely sparse to the very hectic. A third quartet on disc two ("MGT 4ALL") brings back the flutist with cello, violin and drums, and the resulting music could best be described as falling somewhere between the orientations taken by the previous two ensembles.
Last but not least in this musical journey is the concluding tutti, "MORSMAN OCTET," a 16-minute sonic expedition that follows a definite dynamic arc, one that gradually builds to a peak around the nine minute mark and subsides ever so slowly over the last six or seven. In this truly remarkable example of collective playing discipline, the clarinetist assumes a kind of lead throughout, or shares that spot with the flutist, while all other instruments (including a very discrete Parker) weave a backdrop of constantly shifting textures.
As challenging (and time consuming) as this release is, its rewards can only be reaped after repeated listenings. Or as Leo Feigin would have it: Music for the inquisitive mind and passionate heart.
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