JEMEEL MOONDOC – Muntu Recordings - 3 CD Box, 1975/1977/1979 (2009)

Label: NoBusiness Records – NBCD 7-8-9
Format: 3 x CD, Compilation, Limited Edition Box Set; Country: Lithuania - Released: 2009
Style: Free Jazz 
CD1 - "First Feeding" recorded April 17, 1977 at Bob Blank Studios, New York City. Originally released in 1977 on Muntu Records 1001.  
CD2 - "The Evening Of The Blue Men" recorded March 30, 1979 live at Saint Marks Church in New York City. Originally released in 1979 on Muntu Records 1002.
CD3 - "Live At Ali's Alley" recorded April 20, 1975 live at Ali ’ s Alley. Previously unreleased session
Composed By – Jemeel Moondoc

Limited edition of 1000 handnumbered copies.

Rashid Bakr, Roy Campbell, William Parker, Jemeel Moondoc, Groningen 1980

Jemeel Moondoc, Arthur Williams, Studio Rivbea, 1976

William Parker , Anthony Brown, Jemeel Moondoc, Billy Bang, Groningen 1978


Christened with a name that communicates his endearing musical idiosyncrasy, altoist Jemeel Moondoc has followed a career in free jazz quite similar to his peers in its many ups, downs and detours. This revelatory box set tracks the early years of that trajectory and returns the saxophonist’s initial recordings to circulation, two LPs originally released on Moondoc’s Muntu label. A third disc captures the trio version of Muntu live at Ali’s Alley, drummer Rashied Ali’s loft space, and is actually the earliest music on the set.

Moondoc was a student of Cecil Taylor’s during the pianist ’ s early- ’ 70s tenures at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and Antioch College, participating in numerous workshops and performing with various student ensembles. Upon moving to New York, he used those experiences and resulting contacts to quickly hook into the burgeoning loft jazz scene in the city. Among his early colleagues were bassist William Parker and drummer Rashid Bakr, who were making names for themselves in similar fashion.

The first disc in the box comprises the 1977 LP First Feeding and finds the three men in augmented quintet formation with the addition of enigmatic pianist Mark Hennen and the equally obscure Arthur Williams on trumpet. Recorded in a studio, the sound is sharp, though the presence of vinyl sourcing remains audible in places. The group investigates three pieces, cumulatively dedicated to mentors like Taylor, Sam Rivers, Bill Dixon and others.

The set’s three pieces range from the relative brevity of the opening title invocation to the closing sprawl of “ Theme for Milford (Mr. Body and Soul). ” The middle piece, “ Flight (From the Yellow Dog), ” takes flight on a soaring theme hauntingly similar to Moondoc’s much later-composed “ You Let Me into Your Life. ” What’s most striking is how the music mirrors what’s come after; there’s a “ hear it here ” first feel to how the four approach collective improvisation, assimilating the advances of Taylor and others like Ornette Coleman. Musicians in the idiom have been doing it ever since with varying degrees of originality and success.

Of the five players, it’s curiously Hennen who makes the strongest impression. His, by turns ruminative and forceful, suggests an oblique amalgam of Paul Bley and Taylor. Bakr works in both momentum and color, acting as co-conspirator in steering the ebb and flow. Williams makes for a spirited partner with Moondoc on the front line, the two sparring like dueling ptarmigans or wheeling off in airborne acrobatics. Parker’s shining moment comes with an extended bass solo in the final piece, where he practically turns his instrument into firewood with chopping fingers and bow. Together, the five whip quite a glorious controlled racket.

Roughly two years later, Moondoc booked a revamped Muntu crew for a gig at Saint Mark’s Church, the venue of numerous subsequent free jazz performances, including several incarnations of the venerated Vision Festival. Roy Campbell replaces Williams and the piano chair remains vacant. Titled Night of the Bluemen, the subsequent LP split the performance into two halves. The title piece carries the qualifier “ Part 3 ” prompting the natural question, what of parts one and two?

Sound is a shade cavernous by comparison thanks to the vaulted ceilings of the venue, and Parker suffers most, his furious pizzicato frequently reduced to a muddy aural blur in the ensemble sections. He makes up for it in an arco solo clearly audible in its string-abrading ferocity, spurred by ebullient shouts of encouragement from his employer. The other players are relatively well-served; Moondoc and Campbell are in especially vociferous moods, dancing, darting and diving amidst the churning, surging waves of rhythm. Side B’s “ Theme for Diane ” traces contrastive ballad contours with comparable passion and cohesiveness.

Flipping the page back to Muntu in its relative infancy, the third disc’s live shot from Ali’s Alley comprises another rendering of “ Theme for Milford ” in a single 36 ½-minute slab of largely improvised interplay. Fidelity again is far from perfect, but more than passable. The thrill of hearing the three core members hold forth at one of the pillars of the loft jazz community effectively excuses the somewhat distant positioning of Parker and Bakr in the 35-year-old mix. Moondoc’s mercurial alto sings front and center, reeling off eliding melodic variations against the undulating accompaniment of his partners that occasionally slip in focus but largely stay on point for a full 15-plus minutes. Parker and Bakr occupy much of the remainder of the piece with statements of their own, the latter devising inventive things with what sounds like woodblocks and other ancillary percussion. The modest applause at the end illustrates that times were tough even back then when it came to audience size for these sorts of gigs.

Muntu suffered a crushing setback as an ensemble when Cecil Taylor ostensibly wooed Parker and Bakr away to fill slots in a new trio. With hindsight, its hard to blame the two men for jumping ship after weighing the prospect and Moondoc doesn’t appear to have harbored any lasting ire, having worked with both men, particularly Parker, in the intervening years. Results of their auspicious meetings are still readily available on labels like Eremite and Cadence Jazz, but Moondoc’s been mostly silent (at least on record) for some time. The arrival of this important and opportune box set will hopefully foster resurgence in attention toward his art and motivate new music-making in the process.

_ By DEREK TAYLOR
Dusted Reviews,  date: Feb. 5, 2010

Enjoy!

By the way, this is my 200th post.

 


Links in Comments!

DENNIS GONZALEZ'S INSPIRATION BAND – Nile River Suite (2004)

Label: daagnimRecords – CD9
Format: CD, Album  - Special Limited Edition
Country: US - Released: 2004
Style: Free Improvisation, Contemporary Jazz
Recorded on 23 November 2003, at Universal Rehearsal, NY.
Composed By – Dennis González (tracks: 1, 2, 7); "Nile River Suite" By - González, Grimes, Thompson, Campbell, Mateen
Recorded By, Mixed By – Dennis González

Dennis González – trumpet [C]
Sabir Mateen – tenor sax, alto sax, alto clarinet, clarinet [B-flat], flute
Roy Campbell, Jr. – trumpet, flugelhorn, trumpet [Pocket], flute
Henry Grimes – acoustic bass
Michael "T. A." Thompson – drums, percussion

Dennis González

 Henry Grimes

 Roy Campbell, Jr.

 Sabir Mateen

Michael "T. A." Thompson

Free Jazz is full of stories like that of Dennis Gonzalez. A very talented trumpeter and composer, Gonzalez played with a veritable who's who of free jazz in the 80s and early 90s. Unfortunately, like so many fine musicians of that era, he became discouraged by the lack of adequate opportunities in the jazz world and left active performing, preferring instead to teach music and French in Dallas, Texas. But Gonzalez just couldn't stay away from the free jazz scene and in 1999 he recorded again after a five year hiatus, with an eclectic ensemble featuring himself on keyboards, trumpet and samples and even a Tejano accordionist. Since then, Gonzalez has embarked on a steady mix of touring and recording, all the while continuing to teach his high school students.

Nile River Suite is the latest in an impressive series of recordings Gonzalez has made over his career. This CD is notable in many ways. It marks the first time that legendary bass player Henry Grimes has recorded since his dramatic re-entry into the music scene two years ago. Grimes' story is fascinating. After recording on many seminal LPs with Cecil Taylor, Albert Ayler and others, Grimes moved to Los Angeles and disappeared. He was widely reported dead. However, two years ago he was discovered living in an LA SRO. Given a bass by William Parker, Grimes began to play again with a triumphant set at the Irridium in NY and then a knockout group at the Vision Festival. On this disc he sounds like he hasn't missed a beat! (Henry says he practiced bass in his head during his thirty missing years and you can believe it!) On an instrument that is often overlooked by musicians fascinated by the more showy reed instruments, Grimes is powerful. His lines and tone seduce you almost hypnotically. He is a powerful presence that only gets better with age.

The disc also includes some of the top New York free jazz musicians. Sabir Mateen on reeds is a true wonder. This musician is perhaps one of the most underrated reed players on the scene. Mateen is unusual in that, like Eric Dolphy before him, he has a distinct voice on each of his instruments and a marvelous tone. And though Mateen has perhaps the best altissimo shriek this side of Albert Ayler, his playing is marked by a captivating melodic sense and an unfailing technique. Drummer Michael "T.A." Thompson is another crack NY musician, capable of driving bop-inflected grooves, subtle polyrhythms and powerful tom-tom work. Adding brass player Roy Campbell to the mix was particularly audacious for Gonzalez. Campbell is a true master of all aspects of the instrument, with a tone and style that shows the influence of the entire history of jazz trumpet, from Louis Armstrong through Lee Morgan and on out. That Gonzalez stands up well to such a master is a credit to his own sense of style. You always know which musician is soloing. They are distinct, but complimentary.

The compositions on the disc are impressive, and the multi-part Nile River Suite is truly marvelous. The disc opens with an 18 minute "Lyons in Lyon," a tribute to the late alto player Jimmy Lyons, which sits on the stylistic edge between free bop and total out playing. Gonzalez gives a wonderful, almost Clifford Brown style solo. "Sand Baptist" is a similarly tradition-infused cut, with mellifluous solos by Mateen and Campbell. The major work on the disc, the three part "Nile River Suite," begins with an atmospheric extended introduction for wind trio (Campbell and Mateen on flutes with Gonzalez on trumpet) and then features some inspired solo work before seamlessly moving into a hypnotic Middle Eastern jazz groove. A beautiful lyrical solo by Campbell introduces the second movement of the work with a dark, Lee Morgan-inspired tone. The interplay between Grimes and Thompson is magical. The third movement is dominated by a beautifully constructed, melodic drum solo by Thompson and some soulful blowing by Mateen before the piece winds down to a peaceful conclusion. The final cut on the disc, "Hymn for the Ashes of Saturday," is pure avant-funk, with a groove that would have done Lee Morgan or Cannonball proud. A marvelous way to round out a beautiful album.

This is disc, like so many produced in the new millennium, is a limited addition on the daagnimRecords label. The sound is wonderful, with lively present bass and yet a very clear high end. The music on this disc is adventurous, but ultimately melodic and appealing. This is not the scream fests of Peter Brotzman or other extreme players. Rather it is a deeply felt and almost spiritual disc and a wonderful introduction to the musicians on this album. Find it while you can!

_ Reviewed By CHRIS FORBES



Links in Comments!

SPRING HEEL JACK - The Blue Series Continuum – Masses (2001)

Label: Thirsty Ear – THI57103.2
Series: The Blue Series – (Artistic Director of Blue Series: Matthew Shipp)
Format: CD, Album; Country: US - Released: 2001
Style: Abstract, Downtempo, Free Improvisation, Free Jazz
Recorded upstairs at the Strongroom, London & Sorcerer Sound NYC, 2001
Executive Producer – Peter Gordon; Producer – Ashley Wales, John Coxon
Mastered By – Nick Webb
Mixed By – Oliver Meacock
Recorded By – Chris Flam, Oliver Meacock

The British electronica duo Ashley Wales & John Coxon with Tim Berne, Guillermo E. Brown, Roy Campbell, Daniel Carter, Mat Maneri, Ed Coxon, Evan Parker, William Parker, Matthew Shipp and George Trebar.

Review:

Spring Heel Jack entered the electronica scene in the mid-90's, clearly on the living-room listening side of the drum-n-bass spectrum. The beats on 1996's 68 Million Shades came complex, but despite their rapid pace the overall sonic texture was subdued, making for a smooth, pedestrian vibe. The following album, Busy Curious Thirsty, locked into the harder dance groove that was developing at the time, though a closer listen showed that the real intent was the creation of a roughened, more diverse sound. The new direction lost a lot of their audience, though, and the ambient pieces were numbingly repetitious. In a typical major label move, Island dropped the duo from its roster.

Since then, John Coxon and Ashley Wales have been working hard, and each of their recent endeavors have been more successful-- from the driving, eerie Treader to the slightly softer, more cinematic Disappeared and the noisy ambient experiments collected on Oddities. They've also taken a cue from Fila Brazillia, who produced the strangely pristine luster on Greg Dulli's Twilight Singers project. Coxon & Wales collaborated with Low in 2000 on the Bombscare EP, in which all junglist tendencies vanished, subsumed into Low's stark minimalism; likewise, Alan Sparhawk & Co. found their fragile song frames reinforced by a mesh of synthetic subtlety and carefully controlled drones. The union got called "experimental" mostly due to the uncomfortable tension the album evoked.

Masses invigorates the Thirsty Ear label's fusion project, "The Blue Series Continuum." Spring Heel Jack have toyed with jazz since their early days-- sampling a brassy trumpet trill here, employing a live percussion sample from Tortoise there-- but as time progressed, they showed interest in jazz as a structural template rather than cut-and-paste decoration. For Masses, they recorded a number of ambient soundscapes composed of crackling feedback and found sound (once again absent of breakbeats), and gathered choice labelmates to improvise over the recordings. Some of the most influential names in the new breed of free jazz participated, from the dynamic duo of pianist Matthew Shipp and double bassist William Parker to mercurial saxophonist Evan Parker. The result is the most intense, fascinating album of Spring Heel Jack's career.

"Chorale" opens in static pulses. Shipp hesitantly takes lead with four- and five-note piano clusters, while William Parker's bass explores the space between the rumbling drones. One aspect of the prerecorded soundtracks is that the musicians can slow down and test intimate, abstract harmonies usually only available to duos and trios. Evan Parker's lone soprano sax line repeats after long intervals, intriguingly programmatic considering his usual repertoire. This melancholy motif is the only semblance of melody in the entire song, and the noir ambience would fit perfectly in Blade Runner when Deckard sips his drink alone in the dim living room.

"Chiaroscuro" defines an opposite approach-- an amplified two-note bassline followed by a handclap serves as the rhythmic anchor for the entire track. Hardly boring, this relentless, aggressive reverb is the current through which Daniel Carter runs his saxophone, at first a playful expedition that becomes increasingly strained and frenetic. Guillermo Brown busts three minutes afterwards with overlapping bass-drum rolls and snares, adding to the uneasiness. Trying to isolate the organic from the preprocessed is difficult; at times, the streaks of Ed Coxon's violin blend seamlessly with the humming bed of distortion.

The title track, on which all players are involved, is by far the standout. Brown plays schizophrenically liberated percussion, abusing cowbells and the drumstand itself as pianist Shipp jabs at the low register ivory keys. A sudden crescendo: seconds too late, you realize these were pebbles before the rockslide. The onslaught erupts, burying the listener in a lung- collapsing surge of saxophone wails, trumpet squeals and double-bass throttling. The moment ends as soon as it began, dispersing into Brown's maniacally inspired building-block clatter. If the ascendant free jazz of the 1960's came to be known as "Fire Music," the elemental force here takes place somewhere between metamorphic earth and storm-strewn air, though the electrical fury can hardly be traced back along its silicate tangents to any original resting place.

But don't assume that the entire album is impenetrable noise. A few short interludes separate the longer works, giving single musicians the chance to test their mettle against the compositions. On "Cross," I felt transported to a swirling fantasia, sure that the background was tampering with Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring" until I realized that this was just Mat Maneri in the foreground on acoustic and electric viola. "Salt" is a comparatively straightforward number, launched by Brown and William Parker's hard-bop rhythm and spiced by Shipp's Monk-like vamping. But the final track, "Coda," returns to the spatial acoustics of the first. Coxon and Wales pull the buzzing chimes of their earliest work off the lathe, causing the trumpet-like microtonality of Maneri's viola to recede into the background.

Masses compresses so many components: improv artists from New York jam with Londoners and other Europeans, organic instruments collide with digital spree, free jazz is tempered by prerecorded loops. Curated by Matthew Shipp and sequenced by the Spring Heel boys, this is steaming hot fusion, a record whose density and emotional nuance requires repeated listening to decipher. Many questions are raised, but the one that tugs most anxiously in my mind is whether Coxon and Wales will attempt improvisational electronics themselves on future projects.

_ By Christopher Dare, June 5, 2001 (Pitchfork)



Links in Comments!

Re: MANERI ENSEMBLE – Going To Church (2002)

Label : Aum Fidelity; AUM024
Published by Personasound (BMI) ©+p 2002 AUM Fidelity
Recorded by Carl Seltzer on June 12, 2000 at Seltzer Sound, NYC
Produced by Mat Maneri, Mastered by FLAM at Mindswerve Studios, NYC
Design by Ming@409 from photographs by Edvard Vlanders

Note:

Going To Church is a once-in-our-lifetime meeting of three distinct and potent worlds of improv. One sunny Saturday afternoon in the studio with no preset ideas, save free communication through tone. The open form and fluid dynamics that day manifest themselves into this profound program, ranging from rarefied pastoral beauty to an intensity of psychedelic proportions. String prodigy Mat Maneri and his father, underground legend Joe Maneri – an innovator in the realm of elucidation through microtones. The legendary ex-pat bassist Barre Phillips (New Thing at Newport, Ornette Coleman, Naked Lunch soundtrack, ECM Records pivot) representing the finest that European improv has to offer. Legends in the making Matthew Shipp and Roy Campbell, bring to the party the African-American tradition; their gifts honed in the hardcore NYC of Now. Improvisation at the highest level knows no geographic or genealogical boundaries. Truth to tape, Going To Church is another divine offering from AUM Fidelity.

- SJ ( AUM Fidelity)


Review:

DUSTED REVIEW
date: Sep. 30, 2002

Going to Church is credited to the Maneri Ensemble, and right now, the Maneri with the highest profile among Dusted readers is certainly violist/violinist Mat. And sure enough, Mat Maneri does contribute his trademark twisting, sighing viola lines to this record, but the Maneri who features most prominently here is Mat ’ s father Joe.
Joe Maneri still isn ’ t especially well known in the U.S., even in free jazz circles, which may be partially due to the fact that he ’ s an older man who ’ s only been releasing recordings for about a dozen years. But it ’ s probably also because of his actual playing style, which is about as inaccessible as free jazz gets (despite Joe ’ s touching pleas to the contrary, available here: www.jazzweekly.com/interviews/maneri.htm). His work on saxophone and clarinet isn ’ t inaccessible in an Albert Ayler/Pharoah Sanders hide-the-children sort of way, and neither is it at all emotionally detached. But Joe ’ s playing is foot-draggingly slow, and it often sounds unsure—his phrases often expand and contract quickly, and he spends much of his time (intentionally) wobbling between the twelve equal-tempered tones to the octave used in most Western music. The first time I heard his playing, it sounded a little like a drunk person repeatedly trying to say something that would be easy to pronounce while sober. The more I listened, though, the more it sounded like Joe Maneri had found a new and beautiful way to play the blues.
Along with the two Maneris, Going to Church features pianist Matt Shipp, trumpeter Roy Campbell, veteran ECM bassist Barre Phillips and frequent Maneri family collaborator Randy Peterson on drums. Shipp ’ s presence is surprising, because his instrument doesn ’ t allow him to imitate Joe ’ s wavering approach to pitch. Shipp ’ s playing is effective, though, because he mostly stays out of the way, adding slow, unsure-sounding chords while allowing Joe to lead. Still, Shipp and Campbell ’ s contributions mean a lot—unlike some Joe Maneri recordings, Going to Church isn ’ t filled with tense pauses. Instead, the entire band seems to lumber like a drugged elephant, collectively lurching to and fro in tentative, yet weighty, steps. Both Joe and Mat Maneri are in especially fine form here, circling around each other with woozy, wounded lines.
The entire album feels both mournful and massive—listeners who haven ’ t heard Joe Maneri ’ s work before may find themselves focusing more on his microtonal approach to pitch than anything else. But after a few listens, the sadness in his playing becomes unmistakable. Going to Church would easily be among my favorite new jazz recordings if it hadn ’ t been recorded in June of 2000; the only downside to this album is that it ’ s taken so long to find release.

By Charlie Wilmoth




Welcome to new prog-blog "Different Perspectives In My Room...!".
Enjoy the music, and please leave a comment. Thanks in advance.

Link in Comments!