“Sixty Interpretations of Sixty Seconds by Sixty Solo Improvisers” (Aprise Records 04) ℗2010
“David Sait is a Toronto-based improviser and organizer who specializes in playing the guzheng. He’s been responsible for a publication called SoundList, an e-mail list of local music events. The interest in outreach finds full creative form here in this literally-titled assemblage of sixty-second improvised solos. The notion of sixty-second pieces as a form has been explored before, most notably in Elliott Sharp’s substantial State of the Union compilations beginning as an LP in 1982 and climaxing with vast two-(1996) and three-CD (2001) sets, but many of Sharp’s inclusions were formal compositions and bands. Sait’s program is very different, more personal, less doctrinaire —there are pieces here that are less than a minute and some that are more. His reach is large, taking in improvisers from numerous countries and scenes and embracing a range of technologies and instruments. There are improvisers working in ethnic modes and pentatonics (like Araz Salek, a Canadian playing tar, and others from Japan, Ukraine, Australia and Spain) and traditional genres (American bluegrass banjo player Todd Taylor), and others using electronics, radio, feedback and turntables. Some present non-idiomatic performances on traditional instruments (trombonist Jeff Albert and the oboists Kyle Bruckmann and Paulo Chagas among them); others employ novel instruments, like the Austrian chair-player Heribert Friedl and Johannes Bergmark of Sweden who plays platform. There are people here who are well-known, at least by improvised music standards (Andrea Centazzo, Gino Robair, Paul Dunmall, John Butcher and Lawrence Casserley), but the range of reputation extends to some who are unfamiliar, at least to this writer (guitarist Leanid Narushevich from Belarus is new to me, as is American violinist Carmel Raz). There’s a strong Canadian contingent (including Michael Snow, John Oswald and Michael Keith), a stunning instant of almost absent trumpeting by Argentinean Leonel Kaplan, and a moment of tuneful keyboard and whistling by Italian Allesandro Allessandroni that is virtually definitive lounge music. The most remarkable part of Sait’s achievement is the way he has combined far-flung contributors into groups of six pieces, which at times feel like rounds. The result is virtually composition, whether by affinity of timbre, pitch, style or mood, or contrast alone. It focuses attention on issues of context and editing in ways that may surprise, as well as presenting some of the ways an improviser can interpret the idea of the minute. As beautiful as some of the instants are, Sait’s striking sense of organization lends a kind of authorship to this diversity.” Stuart Broomer - Signal to Noise
“As much a triumph of organization and timbral arrangement as music, this matchless CD is the result of a unique initiative by Toronto-based guzheng player David Sait. During 2009 and 2010 he solicited and collected original 60-second recordings from 60 improvisers he had played with or admired in the past, then knit the results into 10 separate tracks, each of which encompasses improvisations from six of the participants. Considering that anyone hearing the results wouldn’t realize that each 60-second cut was recorded independently of the others, the suturing is almost faultless. Bearing in mind that contributions came from Canada, the United States, Mexico, Argentina, Japan, Spain, Australia, Ukraine, France, Belarus, Finland, Austria, Germany, the United Kingdom, Sweden, Portugal, Belgium, Serbia, Ireland and Italy, the idea that cerebral improvising is universal suggests itself as well. To take one example, on “9”, the captured voices and textures processed from Ben Roberts’ altered turntables and cassettes in Spain, crackle in such a way that the linkage with Briton Helen Gough’s field recording is palpable. Then the distanced puffs and mouth kisses that characterize Argentinean trumpeter Leonel Kaplan`s improvisation segue into the old-time country music strokes from Canadian Gerry McGoldrick’s shamisen, bleeding into Ronny Kipper’s church organ fanfares in the U.K., and conclude with the pseudo cool and groovy rhythmic pulses created by the whistling and keyboard of Italy’s Alessando Alessandroni. Premeditation did however go into the selection of tracks and musicians for each section by Sait. The string player, who has developed unique tunings for his guzheng, has in the past performed or recorded with among others, American percussionist Gino Robair – featured on this CD – British bassoonist Mick Beck and American guitarist Eugene Chadbourne – who aren’t. Initially contacting improvisers in batches, he analyzed the sounds that arrived, and, to ensure that the one style or instrumental family wasn’t over-represented, then decided on which other players to approach and include. Catholic in final execution, so-called ethnic instruments such as Ukrainian tsymbaly and Greek oud share space with more conventional sound makers such as guitars, pianos and saxophones. Unusual juxtapositions illuminate the various tracks in addition, as when the pressurized breaths of American alto saxophonist Joe McPhee abut the kinetic, near-boogie-woogie tinkles of Canadian pianist Michael Snow; or when the decidedly primitive clicks of Ireland’s Rob Coppard’s dedicated bones segue right into the modernist, but still non-tonal scrapes and bumps from Sweden’s Johannes Bergmark’s platform; with both textures fluently complemented by the slide guitar styling of the U.K.’s Philip Gibbs. Sait himself has only one 60-second solo, his multi-stringed plucks and resonations positioned between American Susan Alcorn’s pedal steel guitar twangs and the accordion-like pulsing of Pekko Käppi’s jouhikko from Finland. This experiment may or may not be repeatable. But it certainly supplies novel and notable listening material with this CD.” . Ken Waxman - Jazz Word
“Moments of Falling Petals” (Dromos Records 01) ℗2009
“The good old, bad old conservatory-trained composer in me is more drawn, I’ll admit, to Moments Of Falling Petals, which finds Captain Akiyama back on acoustic guitar in the world of recognisable, even singable (yes!) pitches for a delicate and elegantly understated three-way conversation with alto saxophonist Éden Carrasco and trumpeter Leonel Kaplan. This could be a clue as to why I happen to find Akiyama such an intriguing musician – returning once again to the less-is-more world of Bar Aoyama and Off Site where he first made a name for himself, I’m struck by what I once described elsewhere (referring to an Arthur Doyle album, of all things) as “relaxed intensity”. There were only two ways out of Off Site: either by playing even less – the Taku Sugimoto solution – or by playing more, which was Akiyama’s strategy. (Toshi Nakamura can’t decide which way to go, which is fine by me too..). There’s an extraordinary tension to Sugimoto’s work, both improvised and composed – I well recall him sweating, physically suffering to place those oh so few notes in just the right place in a concert with Radu Malfatti here a while back – while Akiyama in concert has never seemed to me to be in the throes of such an existential crisis. Can music be intense without necessarily being tense? I’d say it can, and Akiyama is a good example. Pursuing the comparison for a while, that Connors / Licht duo once more comes to mind, with Taku playing Connors, agonising over each sound, while Akiyama sits back (Licht positively slumps back) and lets the notes come – not that there are many more of them here than there used to be on echt Akiyama outings like Relator, or his wonderful duos with Jozef van Wissem, Proletarian Drift and Hymn for a Fallen Angel. There’s a real sense of tonal – not in the traditional sense of course – interplay in this 33-minute piece, with Akiyama’s delicate chordal threads and micro-melodies drawing Carrasco and Kaplan back into real pitch play (rare these days, that), which counterpoints their more “extended” techniques to great effect. It’s glorious stuff, and strongly recommended.” Dan Warburton - Paris Transatlantic
“Just as I had been expecting a quieter Mota, I was probably anticipating a noisier, bluesier Akiyama but once again, I was flummoxed. Here he, along with Carrasco on alto and Kaplan on trumpet, play it soft and borderline melodic all the way through. Much space, a nice array of texture. Several lovely moments here, including one about 20 minutes in where I was strongly reminded of Roscoe Mitchell’s Sound Ensemble from the early 80s (high praise). Again, it’s a short disc, about 33 minutes, but strong and well-paced throughout, definitely one to hear. This release also has a great sleeve, folded origami like, as is the interior tissue sleeve. Good one.” Brian Olewnick - Just Outside
“An unexpected day off today, which was spent in the company of good friends in the morning, and delightful girlfriends in the evening, so I’m not sure why I feel a bit gloomy tonight, but perhaps its the menopause kicking in again. Still, I have listened to some music today, and have chosen to write about a disc that actually came out more than a year ago, and was sent to me a month or two back, but as I have only just got around to playing it, and as the label were kind enough to think of me to send it, I don’t see why it should matter how long its been out. it is still available here. The CD in question then, is a trio improvisation recorded in Argentina back in 2008 by the trio of Tetuzi Akiyama, (acoustic guitar) Eden Carrasco (alto sax) and Leonel Kaplan (trumpet). The album consists of one thirty-three minute long improvisation and revels in the beautiful title Moments of Falling Petals. Before mentioning the music I should bring attention to the lovingly formed packaging, a great little pen drawing printed on thick art paper that is then folded up in such an extravagant origami formation that I’m not sure I’ll be able to put the disc away once I’ve finished with it this evening. So musically, this piece sounds pretty much how I expected it to, Akiyama picking out a spacious, fragmented blues-type smattering of clear notes over Kaplan and Carrasco’s more muted, earthy backdrops. As predictable as it may be though, it is still really rather lovely. The sax and trumpet stay mostly in an area somewhere between breathy hisses and low growls, occasionally breaking out into louder passages of the same kind of thing, but retaining the reduced palette throughout. Akiyama’s playing then is very beautiful, indeed like falling petals his notes feel fragile and exposed out the front, like the first solid lines painted into a watercolour sketch after the bases washes have been perfected. The rhythmic element that often creeps into Akiyama’s playing is missing here though, which pleases me quite a bit, and so there is a forlorn, almost vulnerable feel to the guitar that harks back to his early CDs and yet also fits here perfectly. An understated affair then, but with a romantic heart, which makes this quite a rare improv disc as it seeps a kind of sadness of the kind we usually hear in other forms of music but rarely in the improv world. There is plenty of silence in there as well, particularly in the CD’s opening few minutes as the musicians find their place in the live event, so all of this combined together gives the CD a certain poignancy. The role of the two Argentinian musicians shouldn’t be underplayed here either. Though generally quiet and working as accompaniment to Akiyama’s foregrounded guitar, the subtlety in their playing, and the way they blend and filter their sounds through each other is very nicely done indeed, staying back in the shadows, (in fact creating the shadows) at times and flowing through into the light at key moments. Not utterly essential music then, but a very nice disc to listen to, particularly on rainy grey nights like this one when the mood is a sombre one and the whisky glints golden at the bottom of the glass.” Richard Pinnell -The Whatchful Ear
“Combined, contrasted and contrapuntal guitar and trumpet textures – plus those of another instrument – are what tie together these notable sessions. Yet even though only a trio of instruments is involved on each – and Tokyo-based On-kyo guitarist Tetuzi Akiyama is present on two of the three CDs – the overall performances can readily be distinguished from one another. More obviously separate is Crackleknob, the collaboration among three New York-based players: guitarist Mary Halvorson, bassist Reuben Radding and trumpeter Nate Wooley. Each has worked with a cross-section of other progressive players including composer Anthony Braxton (Halvorson), pianist Denman Maroney (Radding) and cellist Daniel Levin (Wooley). Not only that, but Wooley has also recorded in the past with Leonel Kaplan, a trumpeter from Buenos Aires with similar understated tendencies, featured on Moments of Falling Petals. Kaplan’s associates on that disc are Akiyama, whose interests range across the electronic, improv and notated scenes, as well as Éden Carrasco, an alto saxophonist from Santiago. Akiyama – who plays a tape-delay electric guitar – is also on board for Rebuses, but his partners here are saxophonist and clarinetist Masahiko Okura from Tokyo, who plays with Japanese improvisers such as turntablist/guitarist Otomo Yoshihide; and Vienna’s quartet-tone trumpet specialist Franz Hautzinger whose playing partners range from synthesizer player Thomas Lehn to rock-styled ensembles. On Rebuses the emphasis is strictly minimalist. Brass timbres leak onto toy guitar-like twangs produced by slurred fingering, abut barely breathed peeps and disconnected note patterns from the saxophonist, and rest on an undertow of electronic flanges, spins and clatters. Throughout, Akiyama’s licks aren’t often wedded to folksy finger-picking but concentrate instead on ringing chords and slack key approximations, circling the others’ tones and constantly launching envelopes of dissonant patterns. More upfront here than elsewhere, the guitarist’s downward-cascading licks plus crackling amp distortions bring forth belligerent split tones or vulture-like cawing from the reedist. Occasionally Okura interrupts flat-line air expelling to complement with tongue slaps, fluttering squeals or rolling blows, the equally sporadic rubato squeaks from Hautzinger. For his part the trumpeter prefers tremolo grace notes which usually reflect back onto themselves. As well, in contrast to Akiyama’s divisive string rubs and chordal flanges, Hautzinger’s tongue-rolled air is connectively chromatic. Eventually collective note patterns shape the five long tracks into suite-like form. More precious and much shorter, Moments of Falling Petals, with Akiyama on acoustic guitar, consists of a single track improvisation which moves between silencers, gentling undulations and unexpected crunching eruptions. With Kaplan’s timbres initially centred on muted growls and Carrasco’s on peeps, squeals and chromatic slurs, only Akiyama’s coldly outlined notes cut through the undifferentiated sonic and silences. Eventually his snaps and strums are challenged by side-slipping shrills and bell-muted pressure from the saxophonist plus spittle-encrusted angled grace notes from the trumpeter. Following a climatic water dam-like roar from the horns, and a subsequent extended period of silence, the piece’s final variation is divided among whimpering pressure from Kaplan, which becomes louder and more atonal by the end; brassy spetrofluctuation from Carrasco; and microtonal slurred fingering from Akiyama – with a conclusive resonating twang. Moving north from Buenos Aires to Brooklyn, not only do Halvorson, Radding and Wooley run through 10 tunes in less than 48½ minutes, but each number also has a quirky title. The game plan here involves triple counterpoint with an emphasis on dissonant unison harmonies. Performances by this trio are as macro as the others are micro, without losing sight of post-modern minimalism that is mixed with jazz-styled improvisations. In this context at least, Halvorson’s output is spikier and louder than Akiyama’s. During the course of “Libidinous Objects & the Decay of Self”, for instance, she works herself from watery chromatic picking to distorted lines and finally into a display of scattered notes and slurred staccato fingering. Radding thickly thumps in response, while Wooley leaks the odd brass tone. Meanwhile, “In the Teeth of Ideology” serves as a showcase for the bassist, whose wood-splintering-like scrubs and col legno ruffs replace his usual thick stopping and walking. Stepping back to strum, the guitarist cedes the remaining space to Wooley, whose hushed output is simultaneously lyrical, wispy and Impressionistic. Elsewhere each seems to be vying to discover whose playing can be the most moderato and low-pressured. However an extended improv such as “Quavering Voices of the Mutilated” shows off their multi-directional counterpoint in greatest detail. With the broken chord action connected by Radding’s pumping lines, the guitarist moves from chunky rasgueado to spidery fingering while the trumpeter’s interpolations evolve from tremolo buzzing to sounds that are fortissimo, shrill, grainy and slurred. When this centrifugal performance climaxes, silences, delay and discursion eventually combine into lyrical connectivity. Although Crackleknob distinguishes itself from the other two sessions with a brash – perhaps New World-styled – forthrightness, each of the CDs demonstrate winning methods for enlivening trumpet-guitar trio sessions that simultaneously explore and evolve.” Ken Waxman - Jazz Word
“The Complete Absence Sessions” (Creative Sources 34/ Digital) ℗2005/2011 re-edition
“A number of different, coincidental elements brought me to write about the music I have been playing tonight. The trio of Axel Dorner, Leonel Kaplan and Diego Chamy recorded their album for Creative Sources named Absence way back in 2003, and the disc was released not that long after, which is when I bought my copy. Then recently, as I have written about the two Chamy/Dorner duo albums that have appeared over recent months, Diego sent me a further copy of Absence, not realising I already owned it. I added it to the list of items to write about, noting to give away the extra copy I now have to an interested reader. Then a few days back I heard from Leonel Kaplan, who, following my posts about Bhob Rainey’s bandcamp site from where he sells digital downloads, also pointed me to his similar site, which includes some additional recordings by the trio that made Absence. When exchanging a few emails with Leonel, he mentioned that it might be interesting to hear how the same trio sounded on different occasions in different settings. The album itself was recorded in an Argentine studio, but the additional tracks made available capture the group live at a French festival, and also out in a forest, playing amongst nature. Following the recent online discussions that have been taking place about the current “state” of improvised music this lead me to think more about the nature of improvisation, and in particular the notion of it existing beyond a recording intended for a CD release. Too often, particularly in online circles improvised music is judged by what appears on commercial releases, when actually only a small portion of what goes on ever makes it onto a disc. The additional recordings here capture further meetings by the trio that weren’t really intended for release, but have been shared by the musicians as an illustration of what they were up to in different locations and settings rather than as polished musical statements. That’s fine by me. For me personally, improvisation is as interesting and exciting as ever, but increasingly I am interested in the social and philosophical elements of the practice, almost as much as I am the actual music, or at least the music released on CD. Hearing three recordings made of the same group in three quite different scenarios is an interesting experience in itself, irrespective of how the music might sound. Of course CDs matter, and matter a lot, but increasingly their position as the definitive statement on the music of any one set of musicians is becoming increasingly less interesting. As it has become possible via technology for musicians to issue substantial documentation of their meetings, or to play around wildly with track lengths, or in the case of the Absence trio, to present various versions of the music recorded under different conditions, the need then for musicians to produce forty minutes of perfect material for a CD release is lessened, and their exploration and collaboration in itself becomes of great interest, the act of improvising becomes something far more than a means to an end. So the original Creative Sources album by the trio is a bristling, busy affair made up of the two trumpets (Dorner and Kaplan) and Chamy’s simple, stripped-down percussion. It is mostly made up of textural, noteless extended technique, with the two trumpets hard to pick apart, with only the occasional signature sound from Dorner giving away who is who. It isn’t the hushed, quiet affair that the 2003 recording date might suggest, with the three musicians really wrapping their sounds in and out of one another, building a thoroughly satisfying, muscular bundle of writhing, energetic music. I will never know, having already been familiar with the CD, but I suspect that if I had come to this release cold, without knowing anything about when it was recorded I would not have thought it was seven years old. Such is one of the joys of improvised music,- no matter how we try and pin dates on particular styles and developments within the music it can still sound fresh so many years later. If you purchase the digital version of Absence from Leonel’s bandcamp site (or even if you don’t) you can also download at no extra cost the two additional tracks that I have been listening to tonight. Musique Quotidiane Sonore is a half hour long piece of music that takes its name from the French Festival it was recorded at way back in 2004. Here the trio sound looser than in the studio, lighter, freer and also quite wildly aggressive, all perhaps highlighting a sense of immediacy in the music that didn’t feel so obvious on the more formal recording. At one point all three musicians play quite abrasively, with the second trumpet suddenly bursting all over the music as the first roars away, taking a percussive role itself, scattering shards of metallic attack all over the place. While the differences are obviously quite refined, there is a feeling of more freedom in the live recording (which has also been superbly captured by Chamy’s careful use of microphones) The recording made in the forest is just a little over thirteen minutes in length, and has been expertly recorded by Jean Pallandre using careful microphone placements. The most obvious of these presents us with a continually flowing river in the foreground, loud and taking on a kind of almost white noise feel, into which the trio play their music. For the majority of the time the musicians improvise alongside and into the river sounds, matching the grey roar of the running water with breathy trumpet, or layering extended grainy sounds alongside. near the end Chamy breaks the music up with a series of immediate chiming bells, so lifting the music out of its thin palette of roaring black and whitea nd adding pin pricks of colour. The three recordings then work very well when heard one after the other. The music sounds carefully structured and balanced in the studio recording, a sense of precision and craftsmanship is there, but also perhaps a gentle edge of safety-first can be heard. While in places, particularly in the fourth and final track things do get a bit boisterous, the energy in the music is generally held at a consistent point, and there is no anger in the album. The live recording, while possibly containing a little less variety in terms of the breadth of sounds utilise has a sharper, almost nastier edge as the music regularly builds into more aggressive moments. The outdoors recording sounds very different again, much more refined, using a drastically reduced palette, gentler and calmer, as the surroundings in which it was recorded may have dictated. Here the music seems to be more about finding its place alongside the natural sounds, balancing the music rather than pushing it on hard. All three pieces are fine examples of acoustic trio improvisation that don’t sound like they belong to any particular historical era. Being able to listen to so much material by the same musicians like this is very rewarding, as mapping the progress of the trio when playing in different surroundings is an intriguing thing to do. Of the three pieces of music I think I prefer the live recording, the ‘anything-goes’ energy of that track outweighing the more balanced precision of the studio recording in my opinion, with the outdoor recording showing us something different again. So, old recordings but well worth revisiting in my opinion.” Richard Pinnell- The Watchful Ear
