Monday, February 11, 2008

The Meaning Of Life

Steve Lehman - On Meaning (Pi, 2007)

Ach! This eccentric, technically accomplished and highly individual album actually slipped out at the tail end of 2007, but surely must have been a serious album of the year contender. Alto saxophonist Steve Lehman is a major figure in a burgeoning wave of US jazz that is woefully ignored in this country (see also Scott Colley and Drew Gress, the latter of whom also appears here). He has some of the fearsome cutting edge fury of Steve Coleman, albeit without Coleman’s tiresome mystical pretensions and philosophical grandstanding.

These compositions are terrifyingly audacious, introducing intricate harmonic and rhythmic themes, with the players all having the conviction and courage to develop them fully. ‘Open Music’ and ‘Curse Fraction’ pull off the neat trick of being simultaneously mathematical and pretty, whilst the oh-so-cleverly titled ‘Haiku d’Etat Transcription’ is an appealing melting pot of ideas, somehow holding together in spite of the constant rhythmic meddling. At just 45 minutes, this is as mercilessly concise a jazz album as has appeared in recent years. It simply zips by, albeit so jam packed full of thrilling ideas that adding any more might have risked over-egging the pudding.

The group’s impact rests on two crucial elements – the consummate merging of sound between Lehman’s aggressive saxophone and Jonathan Finlayson’s pure-sounding trumpet, and the extraordinary precision of the rhythm section. Even at their most dexterous and adventurous, Drew Gress’ bass, Chris Dingman’s languid Vibraphone chords and Tyshawn Sorey’s remarkable drumming bond together with a powerful sealant. Sorey is particularly outrageous, risk-taking whilst holding a groove as tight as anything even Zigaboo Modeliste could muster.

Lehman’s doctrine is apparently ‘grooving without repetition’, and ‘On Meaning’ serves this central philosophy well. Even when the underpinning bassline is relentless, the soloists weave compelling and challenging ideas in and out of the mix, and Sorey’s troublemaking drumming rarely treads the same ground for too long. Lehman also seems as preoccupied with sound and texture as he is with rhythmic invention, so much of ‘On Meaning’ works as a hypnotic and immersing mood piece as well as a staggering display of musical virtuosity. Even at its most dynamic and asymmetrical, the music here still radiates energy and enjoyment, and sounds both intensely physical and palpably human.

A Day In The Life...

Pat Metheny with Christian McBride and Antonio Sanchez - Day Trip (Nonesuch, 2008)

Some critics in America appear to be hailing ‘Day Trip’ as among the best records of Pat Metheny’s illustrious career, and perhaps his best trio album since ‘Bright Size Life’. Both are audacious claims, especially given that ‘Day Trip’ sounds accessible and conventional, perhaps even lightweight, in light of Metheny’s more ambitious achievements. It lacks the fire and fury of ‘Song X’ (his infamous collaboration with Ornette Coleman), the rigour and grace of his recent partnership with Brad Mehldau or the sheer compositional muscle and attention to detail of ‘The Way Up’.

Accessibility can often be a positive characteristic though, and Metheny certainly makes a virtue of it with this charming and enjoyable set. Joined by bassist Christian McBride and exuberant drummer Antonio Sanchez, the eleven mostly bristling tracks were cut in a single day of recording. It’s bustling with energy and tremendous momentum, and the sprightly, spontaneous group interplay is a refreshing tonic after the audacious rigours of Metheny’s recent work. There’s also an impressive, rapid fire flow of ideas, particularly from Metheny himself, who solos superbly throughout.

There’s fast and furious, rhythmically inventive playing on the opener ‘Son of Thirteen’ and ‘Let’s Move’, whilst ‘Calvin’s Keys’ is one of Metheny’s most straightforwardly enjoyable compositions in years. It even bears a passing resemblance to Nat Adderley’s ‘Work Song’. The nimble, light playing on this piece also recalls the great Wes Montgomery. McBride and Sanchez make for superb sparring partners throughout, Sanchez’s drumming bursting with dazzling technique, yet also retaining a subtle mystery and intrigue. Metheny’s guitar sings as much as ever, but McBride’s solos are also lingeringly melodic and lyrical.

Metheny brings out his nylon stringed acoustic for the haunting and mournful ‘Is This America? (Katrina 2005)’, a near-perfect elegy for the people of New Orleans and their suffering, with a clear and pure American melody that recalls Bill Frisell at his best. ‘When We Were Free’, actually revisited from 1996’s ‘Quartet’ album, adds further political implications but not at the expense of a superbly swinging groove.

It’s worth noting that a fair chunk of this material is revised from other projects. ‘The Red One’, which sounds a little out of place in this context, originally appeared on ‘I Can See The House From Here’, Metheny’s outstanding meeting with John Scofield. ‘Snova’ and ‘Son of Thirteen’ both originally appeared on Alex Spiagi’s ‘Returning’. Still, one of the delights of jazz as an idiom is the ability to constantly breathe new life into old material, and these stripped back trio versions create space and exciting new tensions.

‘Day Trip’ is not Metheny’s most original or dazzling work, but its performances are vivid and engaging, and it’s great to hear him back in a trio set-up after experiments with larger ensembles. It perhaps works most effectively as a document of spontaneous and immediate craftsmanship. It also works as a series of inspired and memorable signposts, both back to impressive moments from Metheny’s own career and the influences of other musicians. There are unlikely to be many albums this year displaying more verve, spirit and musical instinct.