Allison Miller - Boom Tic Boom (Foxhaven)

Background beyond the basics on Allison Miller is absent in the packaging of this disc. That’s hardly a problem, however, as her music swiftly conveys volumes about whom she is and how she approaches her instrument. Most apparent is the way her playing warmly invites listeners to ruminate at length about the drums, about their role in a jazz ensemble and what they’re capable of both within that framework and without. She’s the ostensible leader of the session, but in the estimable company of pianist Myra Melford and bassist Todd Sickafoose she shrugs off any privileges presumptive of the position, opting instead for equilibrium of input with her partners.

An exquisite crispness and clarity attends Miller’s constructions, along with a speed between thought and action measurable in milliseconds. Her sticks move with machine-like precision, but retain a very human grace. She never overwhelms from her kit, though the resiliency and immediacy of her rhythms implies that she readily could if so inclined. There’s abundant humor as well as she slips for bold relief swing to a slippery funk beat and on to an oddly-metered aside in a manner that exposes more than a passing interest in rock. Taking stock in this sampling of her artistry I can’t help but think of the often-shoehorned but still valid adage of teenage Peter Parker’s Uncle Ben, “with great power comes great responsibility” put into practice.

Half of the program’s eight tunes are Miller originals. The trio also runs down two by Melford along with Mary Lou Williams’ “Intermission” and Hoagy Carmichael’s “Rockin’ Chair”. Melford melodic side is in full bloom on the latter, almost to a fault. Miller’s cymbal washes and brushed snare accents help in neutralizing any schmaltz. Each piece packs in liberal amounts of improvisation while frequently remaining thematically grounded. Proof of Miller’s willingness to defer is plain with the middle section of Melford’s “Be Melting Snow” where the drummer sheathes sticks and serves as spectator for the composer’s close conversation with Sickafoose. For his part, the bassist wields a broad resonant tone from his strings, perfectly matching the agility and alacrity of his colleagues. Violinist Jenny Scheinman sits in on “CFS” adding texture and enhancing the folk-friendly interplay of the piece. Miller's facility and versatility definitely make her one to keep close tabs on and this set is an ideal introduction.

Mark “Porkchop” Holder, 501 Club, Minneapolis, MN, 1/27/10

Please excuse this break from regularly scheduled record-reviewing for a little concert-going communiqué. Last night, I ventured out into the single-digit Minneapolis weather with a singular purpose in mind, to catch one Mark “Porkchop” Holder in-person at a local watering hole that kindly waives any kind of cover.

Holder was easily one of the highlights of last summer’s Deep Blues Festival, a gathering of like-minded musicians that fall under the rubric of that somewhat-nebulous Robert Palmer-coined phrase. Formerly one-third of the Black Diamond Heavies, he’s been touring as a band of one for awhile now and isn’t the worse for wear. He resembles his nickname both in rotund frame and the high caloric content of his fretwork. Overalls, t-shirt and ball-cap are his preferred attire and he makes do with a National Polychrome Tricone Steel-Body Resophonic guitar, amplified foot tambourine, and a device he refers offhandedly to as a thumper, an amplified piece of wood that serves as primitive kick drum. Harmonica rack is another accoutrement when a song in question calls for it.

A repast of massaman curry in my belly and thirst momentarily quenched on several tap-drawn Bourbon County Stouts, I bellied up at the corner of the bar with a clear sightline to the stage and the beginnings of a pleasantly-numbing buzz. Sadly, a good portion of the 50-strong crowd was there for the bar’s weekly trivia night and emptied their seats when Holder took the stage. “I’m from Nashville, Tennessee, where it’s not the heat, it’s the stupidity,” he quipped as a means of hasty introduction, launching into killer breakdown “If I Had Possession over Judgment Day”. “Delia” followed, Holder crediting it to Johnny Cash, though I think it holds older folk origins. Once again the plugged-in slide work was stellar, a complex edifice built with the bricks of Bukka White, Robert Johnson and Fred McDowell with frills and embellishments that were clearly his own. Other standouts in the set included “My Black Name”, a slow and harrowing, “You Got to Move” and a surprise rendering of “Gallows Pole” that was far more Leadbelly than Led Zeppelin.

The set was short and the crowd slim, but I was more than satisfied. Holder signed off with patchwork version of “Hambone”, explaining “This song is a bunch of verses strung together, some taken from nursery rhymes, others from Tin Pan Alley, but basically it’s about fucking.” Deep Blues Fest organizer Chris Johnson, who had a principal roll in booking the gig, made the rounds through the meager audience with tip jar in an effort to bolster the take. I had a chance to chat with Holder briefly after the gig and finally nab his two solo discs, which I’d failed to get at his previous Twin Cities hit over the summer. A section of his self-penned liners aptly summarizes where he’s coming from:

“So, here’s what you’ve got in your hands; it’s my street act, mic’ed up. Guitar, vocals, foot-thumpery and harmonica tracked in realtime, all at once, no overdubs, no second takes, no bullshit. Two inch tape like Jesus intended. I’m happy with it. Sounds like me. This is who I am. What I love and what I do. If I played in your kitchen (which, like most things in life, is negotiable), it would sound like this. I hope you enjoy this recording. If you don’t… tough shit.”

Best part is he’s in town through the weekend, holding court at another Minneapolis Bar, Palmer’s, on Saturday in the company of another slide guitar doyen, one Kenny Brown on loan from Mississippi. I’m counting the hours… in the meantime, here’s a little taste of the man in action at the DBF…

Porkchop

Porkchop 2

Barnö Grip Lasserre – Snus (Ayler)

Originally formed for the auspicious occasion of Alan Silva’s 70th birthday in Paris, Snus is a European trio that takes the expatriate bassist/composer/improviser’s legacy to heart. In other words, they play full contact free jazz, listener helmets and protective padding strictly optional. This live set, a reconvening initially planned in the promising aftermath of that inaugural Silva-celebratory gig, pulls no punches from the start.

Swedish bassist Joel Grip practically turns his instrument into firewood, chopping mercilessly at his strings, first with fingers and later with bow. French drummer Didier Lasserre is similarly draconian toward his drum kit in driving home fractured passels of beats. The opening “E 1520” Niklas Barnö, another Swede, barks out stentorian smears and slurs on his trumpet across a spectrum that encompasses Donald Ayler and Axel Dorner. The mics capture all three close and hot and the eleven minutes that constitute the set’s first two pieces, “E 1520” and “Tobacco”, make for a gloriously teeth-gritting musical assault.

It’s not all bullhorns and battering rams though. “Water” switches channels to the trio’s free improv frequency where the component sounds are often just as abrasive, but tempered slightly by heightened space and texture. Grip generates a percussive snap to his plucked patterns on “Aroma” that bring Money Jungle-Mingus immediately to mind. Barnö picks through scraps of metalicized melody as Lasserre skitters and scampers at the edges on a combination of sticks and brushes. “Salt” shows off Grip’s rosin-combusting bow work while slow smolder of Barnö muted and Lasserre’s brushes on “Smoking Flavour” picks up steam and structure through his incessant pile-driving thrum.

Not so long ago, Ayler’s future was worryingly uncertain. Not so now as producer Stéphane Berland, who took over for founder Jan Strom, continues to find and foster and musicians with the same conscientious attention to quality and consistency. With ensembles of the caliber of Snus in the stable, the label’s fortunes appear on the rise indeed.

ROW: Joe Houston – Cornbread and Cabbage Greens (Specialty)

Honkers and bar walkers were legion in the Los Angeles R&B scene of the late-Forties. The arguable triumvirate of the community consisted of Big Jay McNeeley, Chuck Higgins and Joe Houston, as reviled by jazz purists as they were revered by teenage fans hungry for that hot-stepping, proto-rock & roll sound. Houston’s style hardly varied from his peers in appropriating Illinois Jacquet’s freak register squeals and gutbucket growls as springboard vernacular. These 26 sides, originally waxed for storefront labels like Fort Knox, Regent and Money and later bought up under the Specialty umbrella, cross off pretty much all his stylistic ticks. Most are booting instrumentals with basic rhythmic backing working as vehicles for his wailing, stratosphere-slashing tenor. A few, like the disc’s title track, also pivot off boisterous shout-chorus vocals. The truly revelatory cuts are the final three that Houston’s wildly gesticulating tenor with an unnamed electric guitarist who slathers on stinging distortion and contrasts starkly with the decorous T-Bone Walker-style fretwork of earlier sides. Houston was still actively touring at the time of this collection’s pressing in 1992, sobering proof for those aforementioned purists that a honker’s career could just as easily eclipse a serious jazzman’s in the longevity department.

Nicolas Masson Parallels - Thirty Six Ghosts (Clean Feed)

Swiss saxophonist Nicholas Masson’s Parallels consists of conventional instrumentation save one crucial component, the presence of Fender Rhodes in place of piano. The album’s novel title and design reference renowned tattoo artist Horiyoshi in the stylized depiction of figures from feudal Japanese mythology. It makes for a beautiful and striking package, one that the music regrettably doesn’t quite equal for the most part.

Masson handles all of the composing and his pieces make clever use of the broad tonal color schemes accessible through Colin Vallon’s electric instrument. That canny mutability immediately recalls the sort of work Keith Jarrett accomplished in the company of Miles at their epochal Cellar Door stand. Bassist Patrice Moret and drummer Lionel Friedli take like salmon to a spring stream when it comes to Masson’s groove-infused schematics. Problems present themselves in the rhythmic and harmonic rigidity that occasionally underscores the leader’s creations. It reminds me a little of the difficulties Ken Vandermark sometimes confronts in his writing for the Vandermark 5. Masson’s melodic language on tenor periodically brush the edges of the boilerplate blowing and there are a few moments where the band traffics precariously close to the safer side of Seventies fusion.

Masson’s preferred device on many of the pieces is the slow boil build. The opening “Sirius” and “Le Phasme” scroll by for most of their length without making much of a memorable impact, despite conveying some pleasant atmospherics. “Arsenic”, “Bermuda” and “Yeah Baby” initially follow this framework at only to up the intensity ante in their closing minutes, accelerating tempo and/or density with galvanizing segues to circular menace thanks in large part again to Vallon’s forceful coloring and the close syncopated symmetry of Moret and Friedli. Other pieces, like the frenetic “Hellboy” and brooding “Sentinel” get by on cleanly stacked beats, energetic interplay and elastic grooves throughout their duration. Masson and his sidemen may not score an unqualified win with this outing, but high marks for effort and intent certainly seem in order.

Tomas Ulrich's Cargo Cult - If You Should Go (Cadence Jazz)

“Chamber trio with teeth” serves as convenient shorthand for cellist Tomas Ulrich’s Cargo Cult. This disc was the first of two released in 2009. I initially slept on it and only got hip to the ensemble upon hearing their second effort, self-titled and issued on CIMP. That set made mention in my year end piece for Dusted Magazine. This set, originally a demo tape sent to producer Bob Rusch, documents the players in less polished form, plying their music in front of a live audience in Kingston, NY in early 2007. It’s raw by comparison with CIMP session, but also rewarding in the way in which it presents the trio at an earlier stage, finding their collective sea legs and relying on a reservoir of shared purpose that eclipses any indulgences or blemishes in interplay that arise.

Ulrich and bassist Michael Bisio are no neophytes to the Cadence family, both having recorded on numerous occasions for the company’s labels and earned Rusch’s confidence. Rolf Sturm is a comparatively new name to me, but his facility on both acoustic and electric guitars features prominently in the trio’s sound. The harsher side of Ulrich’s instrument haunts the openings minutes of “The Last to Know” and “Existential Fragility” as his slashing bow scares up abrading showers of stentorian dissonance that rival those of renowned string-shredder Fred Lonberg-Holm. The balance of the recording favors his positioning and when he goes at it full bore, Bisio’s contributions suffer the consequences, occasionally almost drowned out in the din. These opening pieces feel a bit ragged and long-winded when compared to clarity and acuity of the ones that follow.

Even though Ulrich enjoys certain advantages in the mix, Bisio isn’t one to defer quietly. Midway through the beautifully-rendered ‘Rains End”, he plays a knuckle-popping solo high on the bridge and accessing a pitch region in proximity to Ulrich’s cello. Sturm opts for acoustic strings, picking dulcet patterns and it’s the most chamber-sounding performance of the set. The closing “If You Should Go” gives him free reign on his electric instrument and he uses liberal swathes of reverb and echo to heighten the drama. Ulrich sits out for most of the piece, coming in for the closing minutes with a pitch-perfect arco summary and sign-off. Their CIMP may have an overall edge, but this earlier entry is just as worthy of exploration.

John Patitucci Trio – Remembrance (Concord)

The lucrative lure of session work can be a perilous proposition for the creative musician. Bassist John Patitucci has fallen prey to the seduction for much of his career. Blessed with sterling chops and stylistic impartiality, a fair share of smooth jazz, pop and funk fusion dates accumulated on his resume over the years. However unfair, I liken it to the Pat Metheny Syndrome where projects chosen by a player pale in comparison to what he or she is capable. Patitucci sets the record partially straight with this Concord release from last year, his seventh for the label and a disc that narrowly missed inclusion on my year-end list. A high percentage of the success goes to the significant assists of his sidemen, saxophonist Joe Lovano and drummer Brian Blade. Both match Patitucci in terms of their mastery of their instruments and more importantly in this context, are perfectly willing to push his artistic envelope.

Old habits die hard though and the disc is checkered with a few performances that fall short of the promise. The curiously-titled “Messaien’s Gumbo”, burbles along on a standard issue funk bass ostinato, but Lovano’s lithe interjections and Blade’s porous beats manage add an appreciably amount of heat to an otherwise pedestrian piece. “Mali” unfolds as a better vehicle for Patitucci’s electric 6-string, building from a juicy afro-funk vamp and Blade’s dancing polyrhythms in concert with guest percussionist Rogerio Boccato. The leader’s thumb-bruising solo revels in groove and makes the boilerplate of his earlier excursion seem all the more forgettable. “Meditations” features his 6-string electric piccolo and finds the trio delving into atmospheric territory reminiscent of the schmaltzier side of one of Lovano’s other employer’s, the Paul Motian Trio with Bill Frisell. As the other session guest, Patitucci’s wife Sachi plays cello on “Scenes from an Opera”, a somber orchestral-textured piece benefits from Lovano’s overcast alto clarinet and Blade’s deftly deployed brushes and mallets.

Other pieces offer up state of the art samplings of pizzicato double bass. “Sonny Side” spools out at a slow stroll with Lovano tapping his inner Joe Henderson through breathy melodic wisps. The energizing “Joe Hen” is its opposite in mood in tempo and Patitucci puts his bull fiddle through a punishing set of paces.
Despite a few less-satisfying detours, the program holds together well in mapping the numerous facets of Patitucci’s musical personality. Lovano and Blade are inspired choices as partners and the disc is an effective corrective for listener’s who may have pegged Patitucci as a one-trick pony on his past work.