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Neighbourhood

Manu Katche. Ecm Records 2005, Audio CD, $10.94

Playground

Manu Katche. Ecm Records 2007, Audio CD, $9.88

A review of Manu Katché’s Neighbourhood (2005) and Playground (2007)

Manu Katché is a French drummer (born 1958), originally famous for being an in-demand session and live drummer on the 80s/90s ‘world fusion’ circuit (Peter Gabriel, Sting, etc.). Now, his proclivities evidently run more in a jazz direction, and he’s released two stunning and eminently listenable albums on ECM (the German “Edition of Contemporary Music” label that some call the 21st century’s Blue Note). Apparently, he’s also the French Simon Cowell: Wikipedia reports that between 2003 and 2007, he was the mean judge on Nouvelle Star, the French equivalent of American Idol (“He was the most feared of [the judges] for his wit and his severe judgement about the groove and the rhythm of the singer-wannabes.”).

While I’m only beginning to listen my way through ECM’s oeuvre of the past 20 years or so, it’s clear that German producer/owner Manfred Eicher’s vision is distinctive and singular. No matter whether his releases contain jazz, contemporary classical (’serious’?) music, or various flavours of world fusion, they are infused with a particular aesthetic – spacious, present, clear audio; a minimalist approach to arrangement; often an angular sound that requires listeners to really pay attention; but also a warmth that draws us in and captivates our imaginations – for me, many ECM releases are interesting lab experiments positing, “What would happen if…”. The label’s output is, in many ways, representative of an ‘alternate’ musical reality, a realm of possibilities that ‘mainstream’ record labels never really had, where jazz, classical and world music coexist and fruitfully collaborate without skepticism or genre constraints. ECM is one of the few ‘older’ independent labels that grew, and continues to maintain, its audience organically. (Some interesting points in this interview with Eicher.)

ECM’s typical jazz output is maybe best characterized as the dominant European jazz aesthetic: a postmodern type of jazz, rooted in the traditions of acoustic instrumentation (piano trios, classic quartets, quintets, septets, etc.); not typically groove-driven; deeply cognizant of all harmonic possibilities; interested in space and texture over melody; not ‘free jazz’ exactly but definitely exploratory-minded; and actively affirmative of European players’ (often names North American jazz listeners do not recognize at all) decades of experience that should receive more exposure than they do.

Recording Manu Katché’s solo records in that context creates – either deliberately or by happy coincidence – outstanding music because it juxtaposes ECM’s minimalist approach with his pattern-based grooves. The result is a sort of European ’soul jazz’: Katché gives these players (and there are some truly formidable ones: Neighbourhood has Jan Garbarek on saxophone, Tomasz Stanko – whose music I have previously reviewed here – on trumpet, Marcin Wasilewski on piano and Slamowir Kurkiewicz on bass) the freedom to explore what it is like to play with firmer, more articulated, steadier rhythms carrying them. The compositions (all courtesy of Katché) make lovely use of the horn front-line (particularly beautiful, interestingly, on Playgroud, where Garbarek and Stanko are replaced by two younger players, Mathias Eick (tp) and Trygve Seim (sax)).

From the point of view of a listener who comes to this music from rock, what’s particularly interesting to me here is that – despite the instrumentation (soprano saxophone?) and provencance (Katché’s world music background) – I don’t perceive this as ‘fusion’ or have any Kenny G. associations (I have felt those before, particular when listening to some of Jan Garbarek’s less experimental solo work). While it’s always melodic, the rhythmically propelled, acoustic nature and non-ingratiating authenticity of these records make them equally ideal to listen to in the car (where other ECM jazz releases, like Thomsz Stanko’s records or the Marcin Wasilewski Trio, really don’t work at all) or pay attention late at night wearing headphones.

I also really enjoy how these CDs bring out a more optimistic, positive side of the “ECM sound”: while I find Stanko, Warcilewski and others endlessly fascinating and engaging in their abstractness and angular, ‘important’ musical explorations, they can also, at times, have a bit of a ponderous and depressing effect on me, all cold Scandinavian textures, hints and silences. When Katché’s groove emerges, as it does beautifully at around 1:45 in “Morning Joy” on Playground, my ears perk up and my toes start tapping. I suppose even a label like ECM, with its programmatic approach to musical exploration, ultimately affirms the power of a pattern-based groove. It is, in the end, what makes most popular music work. (I thought of discussing here whether ECM’s is, indeed, ‘popular’ music but decided against it…)

Other perceptive reviews to read: the BBC about Neighbourhood, All About Jazz about Neighbourhood, The Guardian about Neighbourhood, Budd Kopman on All About Jazz about Playground, John Kelman on All About Jazz about Playground.

(Jazz Dancing in Berlin, 1926 – German Federal Archives via Wikimedia Commons)

For someone who thinks of himself as both musical and deeply interested in listening to all kinds of music, I had, previously, studiously avoided listening to jazz. While I had been taught about jazz in high school (Improvisation! Dissonances! Drugs! Trumpets!), I think I had mostly seen New Orleans jazz as interesting but limited, swing (and its various revivals) as quaint and melodious but not very fulfilling and been put off by bebop’s endless “noodling.” Really put off.

My aversion wasn’t a blanket refusal, of course: I had explored certain things because I had found a connection to them, and – as a voracious music listener – it wasn’t particularly hard to find exposure even when I wasn’t looking. So I did have, in my collection:

• Billie Holiday: Because you can’t avoid her as one of the most, if not the most, compelling singer in the history of recorded popular music;
• Louis Armstrong: Because the Hot Fives and Sevens transcend their time and audio limitations completely;
• Django Reinhardt: Because he was an extraordinarily interesting guitar player and his story is one of the craziest of any musician I’ve come across;
• Nina Simone: Because it was easy to find a connection to her through my interest in the blues;
• Bill Frisell: Because he created an interesting, challenging hybrid between jazz and country/folk, and it was a sound that strongly appealed to me (still does), a sparse exploration of popular music in a style not unlike Ry Cooder’s in a way;
• Cassandra Wilson: Because she has a fantastic voice and sang Son House and Robert Johnson songs as if they were standards and created an entirely new, eerie kind of music;
• Keith Jarrett: I didn’t really explore very much of his oeuvre, but I was familiar with The Köln Concert and a few other solo recordings – I thought this was interesting and unusual music that had strong rhythmic and folk/New Age elements that I really enjoyed;
• Madeleine Peyroux: Because on a good day, she manages to sound very much like Billie Holiday, which is to say a lot. She’s an excellent performer of other people’s material and creates a lovely, warm, entertaining sound that draws you in (although I’m not so sure about her most recent effort which features her own compositions);
• Miles Davis: Because, as someone interested in the history of rock, you couldn’t exactly ignore Miles’ late 60s/early 70s electric recordings, particularly the live material, featuring various bands that, frankly, rocked harder than Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin put together;
• The Mahavishnu Orchestra: Because, after exploring Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew you can’t really ignore some of the stuff that came in its wake, and this seemed approachable (although, I have to say, I never felt entirely sure why this was classified as jazz and not prog rock).

Lately, I’ve been exploring jazz almost exclusively (for a month or two, anyway). I’ve discovered countless hours of fantastic music. I’m starting to piece together the history of it as I read Ted Gioia’s The History of Jazz and I feel like a kid in a candy store, discovering this great genre to which I had been closed all these years.

The History of Jazz

Ted Gioia. Oxford University Press, USA 1998, Paperback, 480 pages, $10.00

I’ll be reporting my thoughts about my discoveries right here on Teabowl.

Lontano

Tomasz Stanko Quartet. Ecm Records 2006, Audio CD, $10.09

A review of the Tomasz Stanko Quartet’s Lontano (2006)

Tomasz Stanko is a Polish jazz trumpeter who sounds a little like Miles Davis without anger. Lontano contains a series of thoughtful, quiet and slightly angular (maybe geometric is a better word) pieces made with a young trio consisting of Marcin Wasilewski (p), Slamowir Kurkiewicz (b) and drummer Michal Miskiewicz. (These three have also made two very good piano trio recordings of their own that I’ll write about another time.)

This is a particularly European form of jazz – a specific interpretation of the American tradition, fused not with classical forms as one might expect, but rather imbued with a cinematic quality that results in a sort of abstract mood music whose melodies, harmonies and modality are rooted in jazz but which, at the same time, is largely disconnected from jazz history. Its connection to the blues is as abstract as, say, Ennio Morricone’s might be.

It’s a spacious, still music, this. I found myself paying very close attention to the finest details, the smallest plink of a piano key, bru shes against drum heads, the sound of the piano’s sustain pedal being depressed, the breathiness of Stanko’s muted but crystal clear tone. Much is expressed by virtue of not actually being played; it’s hinted-at, barely there, suppressed because it’s not really necessary. Where many jazz ensembles focus their improvisation on filling space (by trading off between soloists, for example), this quartet is primarily about getting out of each other’s way. Its economy is its great strength.

When they do decide to play more conventionally (like, for example, in the middle of ‘Cyrhla’, for me the standout track here), the effect is immense and uplifting: a simple blues-based improvisation suddenly seems like the most musical thing you’ve ever heard. And it’s not an effect that wanes on second and third listening. Even though you now know what’s coming, it’s still spectacular.

This is a very powerful band, led by an outstanding trumpeter. It may take you a listen or two to connect with it, but it’s quite rewarding.