Hilario Durán Trio – Motion (Alma Records – 2010)
In his much-anticipated follow-up to the Grammy-nominated and Juno Award-winning Latin Big Band recording, From The Heart (Alma Records,2008) the piano master, Hilario Durán brings together a power trio comprising bassist, Roberto Occhipinti and drummer, Mark Kelso. In the process he has created Motion, a memorable, new canvas of sound, unveiled through a palette of vivid tonal colors throughout the album’s eight tracks. The record bustles and breathes with myriad rhythms that are so unique to Hilario Durán’s music. He is a unique pianist, quite without peer in the realm of tumbao, the melodic bass lines that burst out of Durán’s music. This killer tumbao, as it is often called, propels Durán’s piano playing throughout brilliantly crafted ensemble passages where his right hand promotes a gentle simpatico weaving melody into the musical souls of his bandmates, Occhipinti and Kelso. His harmonics are stunning and he enrobes the melodies with these rich tapestries of sound often, with surprising color, to make the songs pirouette like dancers. His solos are always inventive, turning melodies inside out and often coming at them with a sliding, angular attack replete with single notes and ferocious chord clusters, so that they are freshened every time he touches the song.
This memorable set begins with “It’s Only Seven,” a song featuring a complex rhythmic structure that sets the pulse racing with a 7/4 beat. Its melody is alluring and, with bassist Roberto Occhipinti and drummer Mark Kelso in fine form, the song proves to be a true kicker. Occhipinti is sensational as he navigates through the fine rhythms with some propulsive and yet nuanced melodic playing. “Conversation with a Lunatic,” a puckish song vividly suggests a jitterbug-like encounter. Here too, Durán creates whorls of sound with contrapuntal figures that turn this track into one that burns with a bright blue flame. Next, Hilario Durán probes a seemingly familiar melody with refreshing and vigorous new ideas: “Havana City,” is a track filled with a sense of languidness that captures the lilting swagger of the rhythms of that city. The song is long and meandering and meditative. The feeling of emotional longing is heightened by the short opening featuring delicate strings, fluttering percussion and aching vocals atop resonant batás by the incomparable Joaquín Hidalgo. Hilario Durán’s playing here is soft and luscious as it appears to caress an almost feminine persona of Havana. The timely accented splashes of Mark Kelso and Roberto Occhipinti’s remarkable bass playing provide a superb rhythmic backdrop that keeps the song swaying and sashaying throughout.
“For Emiliano,” is an emotional tribute to Durán’s compatriot, pianist, Emiliano Salvador. This burgeoning arrangement has a distinct underpinning of sadness. The elegiac mood has some very thoughtful expansive piano playing and compelling bass work by Occhipinti as they seem to recall the spirit of Emiliano Salvador in a gentle wake full of clave. Kelso enjoys an explosive break here, while Durán comps effortlessly and later takes the song home. The album continues to surprise with “Tango Moruno,” which—as the title suggests—is a proverbial doffing of the hat to a form of music that came from nearby Argentina. Jamey Haddad excels as he manipulates the rhythm with remarkable percussive colorations. “Danza Negra” is a deeper excavation of the African side of Hilario Durán’s music and even though nothing is sung there is a bright mélange of danzón and earthy tones of the conjuring up of Yoruba spirituality as it fades with a flourish.
“Motion” is what the entire new experience of Hilario Durán’s music is all about. The musical roars from out of the starting blocks. Durán drives a labyrinthine rhythm in yet another complex figure of swing and clave. In his sensational and abrupt changes in rhythm Durán displays a new maturity of musicianship. He cajoles Roberto Occhipinti and Mark Kelso to reach deep into themselves to emerge with uniquely expressive ideas. The set ends with “Timba en Trampa,” a new dancing song that puts the proverbial sting of this delightful new record in its tail. This track is based on an angular 6/8 figure. The chopped rhythm—highlighted and enhanced by some excellent conga work by Luis Orbegoso offsets Durán’s flying fingers across the ivory and ebony. Here Durán also shows a fond affection for Thelonious Monk with his creative and architectural compositional style and displays complete mastery over every aspect of the musical process adorning this sublime, unforgettable album.
Tracks: It’s Only Seven; Conversation with a Lunatic; Havana City; For Emiliano; Danza Negra; Timba en Trampa.
Personnel: Hilario Durán: piano; Roberto Occhipinti: bass; Mark Kelso: drums; Joaquín Hidalgo: batá drums and vocal (3); Luis Orbegoso: congas (8); Jamey Haddad: percussion (5); The Pandemonium Strings (3).
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Hilario Durán on the web: www.hilarioduran.com
Review written by: Raul da Gama
Lucía Pulido: Time Darkened by Sorrow, Brightened By Passion
Feature written by: Raul da Gama
The sky darkens, Lorca-like and a primordial wail rips through it. “Ai…leh leh leh…/No sé qué tendrá mi pecho/no sé qué tendrá mi pecho…/que mi voz alevanta,” she sings as she cries… “I don’t know what’s in my chest/I don’t know what’s in my chest…/that my voice is arising.” Her voice cuts through the dense clouds and shoots across the sky towards the infinite… Beloved Carmelita has thrown her life away. Dressed like a siren, she emerges from her home to walk the streets. The singer is heartbroken. “Carmelita, adiós,” she warns… “Ai…leh leh leh…/No sabiendo que la rosa/no sabiendo que la rosa/muere triste y deshojada/a le le le,” “Not knowing that the rose/Not knowing that the rose/Dies sad and bereft of petals/Carmelita adios.”
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Lucía Pulido’s voice is in flood, like the Orinoco when it rains and is angry that the earth is dry. Her voice rises and falls, ululating… mimicking the river as it soars high and mighty over everything, sweeping out of sight the flotsam and jetsam that despoil the green brown and blue of the soundscape. It is the cleansing fire, the heart’s desire. The gausá rattles and trembles in her hand as her voice is tremulous. The chirimía band that encourages her sensuous swagger to become intense as a dervish, or mystic… a saint in a trance until her energy and the band’s consume everything on the earth that bleeds with elemental sorrow—and many time with unbridled joy as well.
The album is Lucía Pulido, a 2000 release from the German label, Intuition. It is a pivotal one for Pulido, who is joined here by the Japanese percussionist, Satoshi Takeishi who arranges the songs and also plays the Tambora, Llamador and Redoblante—instruments of north and west African origin that are traditional to Colombia and elsewhere in South America, first brought over by the Spanish conquistadores. Like she has done on so many occasions before, Pulido reaches deep into the heart of her music. In fact she goes even beyond that to find the soul of the songs, the ghostly characters and develops the kind of bestiary that would have done that Argentinean master—Jorge Luis Borges—proud. Her lyricism is beautiful and her profound interpretations qualify her to be more than a griot. On the sensual “El Pilón,” a traditional feature that is like something from out of missing verses from the Biblical Songs of Solomon she cavorts with her characters, slurring and delaying the end notes of each phrase to depict near-drunken love and this infuses the song with dramatic puya effect.
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Two religious songs make this album breathtakingly beautiful. The first is the somber, “En Una Tiniebla Oscura” devoted to the Virgin Mary and the other is played to “Cantos de Vaquería,” lavishly enhanced with brass and woodwinds. Her association with Bullerengue is masterful and the two on the album are unforgettable. “Porro Magangueleño” and “Carmelita, Adios” are so deeply felt that they are almost seared into the memory. “Zafra” is a high and lonesome zafra or herding song from the Atlantic coast of the country and is magnificently approached by bassist, Jairo Moreno, who might as well have bowed his way into a very special place in the realm of acoustic bass players. The percussionists make the piece much too seductive to resist. And “Velo Qué Bonito” is a funerary masterpiece, conceived and executed with sublime emotion.
Lucía Pulido is an artist who connects with the genre of song at a very elementally deep level. To that extent she exercises an almost shamanic control over the lyric, its narration and how it will affect the listener. In Africa she would be a gnawa, like Maalem Mahmoud Gania, the legendary Moroccan gnawa musician first brought out of Africa by Bill Laswell with the seminal Trance of the Seven Colors, a collaboration with the great tenor saxophonist, Pharoah Sanders that is a certified masterpiece, as is the other gnawa album produced by Laswell, The Next Dream with that other mystical gnawa artist, Bachir Attar.
Pulido is an artist who has been shaped by a passionate love for her country and is bonded to Colombia almost the way a wood sprite is bonded with a forest floor. The air she breathes seems to transform itself as it courses through her veins. Cultures collide in her heart and soul… African, Spanish, Caribbean, Amerindian. She may not be any one of them, but she is all of them. This is why her soul can float free, travelling infinitely across the country drawing on sounds and stories—real and mythical, concrete and mystical—until she has absorbed them and made them her own. It seems that she can experience life through every pore. As experiences become internalized they also form a continuum that Pulido transforms into her art using a voice that has no parallel in music. Pulido’s voice is like an instrument that is at once a part of her body as well as a musical device that is to be controlled with unbridled imagination and extreme virtuosity.
So complete is Pulido’s command of her sublime voice that she can set it free like a bird, watching as it catches a thermal and floats high and mightily across oceans of sound. She can bend it, let it crack and yodel with it. And because her voice is a mirror to her soul she can let it sink to depths of despair to conjure up images of extreme sadness—even the finality of death—before it rises and flies free as it is the soul itself ascending into the heavens where it will be ensconced, with celestial beings, as it finally comes to rest. That is just one of the stories she can tell. Her intonation is exquisite. Her songs become arias as she articulates not just emotions, but the complicated melodic and harmonic journeys that she undertakes to tell the music’s stories. She is a trumpet, a shepherd’s horn; a trombone and a lyre. She is a wood sylph, a siren, a saint and sinner crying out for salvation. She is a drum connecting with the animism of the rainforest as well as with the frightening prospect of life in a slum.
Clearly Pulido exists in a continuum that parallels the history of Colombia. Its fractured history from the time it was liberated from its Spanish colonists by Simón Bolívar through dictatorships of the early part of the 20th Century, the guerillas who tore up the country; the drug cartels—the chilling legacy of the 70’s. It was against this backdrop that Pulido first made a name for herself as the voice of the legendary duo, Iván y Lucía. The “Iván” of the dup was Iván Benavides, a songwriter and musician whose name was synonymous with the Nueva Canción movement, which incorporated the newly invented vallenato musical dialect, much in the same way Caetano Veloso’s and Gilberto Gil came to found Musica Popular Brasileira, or the tropicalia movement in song. Throughout the 80’s and the 90’s, the duo, Iván y Lucía ruled the Colombian popular music scene as Veloso and Gil, Elis and Maria Bethânia ruled the one in Brasil.
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The power duo performed tirelessly criss-crossing the country, performing in small towns and large ones. Benavides grew into a truly accomplished composer, who probably did not get the credit he deserved for the music he helped create for a decade. It is unfortunate that the duo is known to have recorded only two albums and it is not really known how much of the music really remains for aficionados and collectors to treasure. It is however, impossible to erase from memory the recording and many performances of Benavides’ classic chart, “Alba,” a song which he wrote to a poem by José Luis Díaz Granados. Iván y Lucía created a song that became an anthem for a whole generation, as did other classic Nueva Canción compositions, “A la sombra del tiempo” and “Corazón” among the numerous others that Benavides created for his partner and himself to woo audiences with wherever they went to perform. Benavides also created songs of protest against the murderous politics of the paramilitary culture that was tearing Colombia apart then. A few have still survived. “Canción para los ausentes” and the towering “Afuera” were two such songs. The latter is as well known as the Brasilian legend, Chico Buarque’s “Calice.”
Then, in the early 90’s Carlos Vives, arguably Colombia’s most well known artist launched a new record label to celebrate the growing popularity of Colombia’s Nueva Canción. Gaira Musica Local was launched with the release of Lucía, Pulido’s first really solo album. Although produced by the prodigiously talented composer, pianist, accordionist and organist, Héctor Martignon, Iván Benavides returned to compose virtually all of the music and play guitars throughout the album. The music on Lucía stands out as one of the finest popular albums ever made in Colombia. The musical idiom is almost completely vallenato, a Colombian street rhythm long considered part of the lower class, untouchable culture by Colombian elites. Bookended by Benavides’ amazingly deep and moving chart, “La Hoguera,” the album also contains such gems as “Las Cuatro Palomas,” “El Piano Dolores” and the Caribbean flavored “Circulo Vicioso,” which was probably one of the most enduring melodies that Iván Benavides has ever written.
In 1994 Pulido arrived in New York and immediately began a niche for herself. Although her first solo album, Lucía was released by Vives’ label a year later, Pulido had already begun to meld the music of Colombia into a unique approach to her musical art, stretching her experimental style of singing to the limit. Traditional forms of music, such as Bullerengue, joropos and cumbia became launch pads for her fabulous flights of vocalastics. Her sophisticated art also encompassed cantos de vaquería, herding songs, alabaos funeral laments and cantos de zafra or harvest chants. After the success of Lucía Pulido: Cantos Religiosos y Paganos in 2000, she went on to release Dolor de Ausencia, a classic repertoire of broken love, despecho, twelve boleros and valses that are filled with such elemental sadness that are breathtaking in their sweep of the emotional beauty. The chart, “Aunque me duela el Alma” is one of those songs that will remain seared in the memory even with just one hearing. Once again Pulido had struck home not only with her amazing ability to turn timeless feelings into timeless music. The brilliance of her art continued to grow beyond even wild expectation. Still her appeal was largely niche and her recorded output considered to consist of specialized projects, although she continued to gain fame from performing not only in the United States, but also in Latin America and Europe as well.
In 2005, Pulido began a cycle of Songbooks with the writer and experimental guitarist, Fernando Tarrés y La Raza, Songbook I (Beliefs) and Songbook II (Prayers) will remain among the most ambitious vocal music ever committed to disc in any language or culture in any time. The full impact of Lucía Pulido’s sophistication and fearless experimental approach to music exists in these two discs released on the Argentinean label, BAU Records. The extraordinary musical journey is like a river in flood. Its brilliance is felt from the time the first bars are sounded by Tarrés’ spectacular guitars, Jerónimo Carmona’s deep resonant bass and the polyrhythmic gymnastics of Carto Brandán’s percussion and the host of other talented musicians. This incredible music continues unabated throughout Songbook I (Beliefs) . It is, however, Songbook II (Prayers) that is, without doubt, one of the most breathtaking albums in Pulido’s repertoire. On the opening chart, “Aqui te estoy esperando” Pulido provides the most extraordinary example of her vocal prowess as she sings the first few bars of the mystical song a capella but is eerily pitch perfect throughout its undulating progress. On her favorite, “La Hoguera (Final)” she duels in fine fashion with two fine percussionists, Jorge Sepúlveda and Urián Sarmiento.
The collective improvisation on both albums is clearly why New York musicians, David Binney and Erik Friedlander love to work with Pulido. Her innate ability to create music quite literally out of mouthfuls of air makes her one of the most precious artists in that city. It is also the reason why the Brasilian musician, Benjamin Taubkin tipped her for his own ambitious project, Contemporary America, Another Center (Adventure Music, 2007) a beautifully crafted recording where the musical idioms of 7 South American countries explode in an album of Amazonian splendor, as colorful as it is dense and rich and fresh in experimentalism. Experimentalism and unbridled creativity is also the most memorable aspect of Pulido’s tribute to the renowned Colombian writer, Rafael Pombo put together by Carlos Vives in 2008. And spectacular versions of “Canto de Zafra” and “Canto de Velorio” were included in the soundtrack for Gustav Deutsch’s experimental German film, Film ist: A Girl and a Gun, a musical experiment Pulido shared with three contemporary European musicians: Christian Fennez, Burkhard Stangl and Martin Seiwart.
Lucía Pulido created a sensation with her 2008 masterpiece, Luna Menguante/Waning Moon also released on the Adventure Music label. Here she celebrates her rare talent once again. Of all the vocalists in the world of music, especially those that practice the ancient, dying art of singing a story – not merely narrating – but telling it as griots do only a handful inhabit an atmosphere so rarified that they would qualify for canonization. If such sainthood was possible then Abbey Lincoln and Sheila Jordan would have been anointed a while ago. So would Sussan Deyhim, the Farsi singer of Sufi music and the Ethiopian singer, Ejigayehu “Gigi” Shibabaw, as well as Maria Bethânia from Brasil… and the reining griot princess would, of course, be Lucía Pulido from Colombia.
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Of all of these vocalists, Lucía Pulido’s is the probably most arresting and sublime artistry. She has the most bewitching voice that can swirl from ebullient and festive to an elementally sad lament. So great is her control over the vocal dynamic that Pulido can summon sudden changes in power and density, by gathering her vocal chords and pouring liquefied dialogues with musicians and instruments. She is able to take command and consume a lyric and if she so pleases and the song demands, set it free to flutter into the ether to echo interminably until it pierces the heart like a perfectly-aimed arrow.
The album, Luna Menguante/Waning Moon is a breathtaking showcase of this otherworldly talent. It gathers together music from the folkloric traditions of the Colombian Caribbean, its Pacific Coast and the Eastern Plains. There are twelve songs rendered in an utterly ancient yet modern context with such brilliance that each seizes the senses and it is impossible to extract oneself from the lyric, the manner in which the song is vocalized and the dynamic sound canvas that she is able to conjure up. Pulido inhabits the music with body and soul. She alone commands what it will do to the senses – all six of them, which are at once her prisoner until the song becomes the epiphany.
Although each of the songs is exquisitely complete there is something extraordinarily magical with the ones she sings with the accompaniment of Stomu Takeishi’s bass. “I’ve No One to Love Me,” “Full Moon Song” and “Funeral Song” are exemplary in style, interplay with the bass and the power of voice over lyric. But is the 0.27 second, solo-voiced “Cattleherding Song” that will be best remembered for its power and solitary splendor. But then the other tracks are no less unforgettable… And the magic of Lucía Pulido’s voice continues to haunt long after the echoes of the last notes have died in the future.
This is an extraordinary record. Although many musicians may have attempted to bring the beauty of Latin American folkloric beauty to life, few artists are likely to have such a lasting impact as Lucía Pulido’s Luna Menguante/Waning Moon. Perhaps with the possible exception of Gigi’s Abyssinia Infinite, Sussan Deyhim’s Madman of God, Maria Bethânia’s As Canções Que Você Fez Pra Mim, Maryam Tollar’s work on Michael Occhipinti’s Sicilian Jazz Project and Abbey Lincoln’s Abbey Sings Abbey. But Pulido’s may be better than them all. Tragically, however, Lucía Pulido remains a niche artist, known for her extraordinary experimentalism rather than for the great vocalist that she is—in any country and in any time. Perhaps one day when musical tastes return to the high art that they once were Pulido will receive what is truly due to her.
Lucía Pulido on the web: www.luciapulido.com
Feature written by: Raul da Gama
Hector Martignon – Second Chance (Zoho Music – 2010)
In a literal world the music on Second Chance would simply represent “B” sides of music that pianist, Hector Martignon has played in the past. In reality they are anything but that. It is here that Martignon has provided wicked twists to all the music he has played before—he uses the term “devilish,” which in Spanish is a word fraught with meaning. The word diabólico might be infinitely more appropriate as it has fangs and breathes a fire. But then again the connotation that the gentleman south of the earth’s core has something to do with these wondrous renditions of Martignon’s fabulous compositions and others’ work seems to negate their “purifying” fire. This is something that can only come from something quite simply stellar; very possibly even celestial, when Martignon’s piano emerges from the ensemble to make singular statements.
Martignon’s virtuoso pianism often draws from—to use an Afro-Cuban term—a tumbao, a style commanded by a resonant 8th note of the bass line that pianists of South American origin often bring to that otherwise sweeping style of playing the piano. This is what makes pianists such as Chucho Valdés, Omar Sosa and Gonzalo Rubalcaba, Roberto Fonseca and Hilario Durán so unique. Martignon occupies a similar space in the stellar regions of the piano. His style is more vocal and his choice of notes not only bounce and stomp with hidden and revealed tumbadora-like accents, they can also be heard to cry—almost weep on occasion. His phrases roll and gambol and frolic like shrill children and when he wants to sound all grown up, then they are silken and sensual.
The rhythmic Martignon unfolds with revelry throughout the album, from João Bosco’s “Bala Con Bala” a tune that is woven like a tapestry—warp or melody, quite straight until it hits a certain note, then it wobbles and bumps, but weft, always inside out and intricate as it builds a maddeningly twisting harmony. The joropo treatment of “Coqueteos” is quite simply spectacular and offers a rare chance, at least on this album, to observe breathlessly, the percussive skills of Samuel Torres and the harp of Edmar Castañeda. And while “Guaji-Rita” may be elegiac at times, it is nevertheless like that skipping return in a funeral in New Orleans. Even “Alone Together,” a chart that is normally played rather pensively is animated and keeps the heart pumped with expectation that things might change on a dime. It bears mention here that Martignon is wonderfully assisted in his rhythmic quest by his bassist, Armando Gola, drummer, Ludwig Afonso and the Colombian percussionist, Samuel Torres.
While Martignon can be wildly exciting with rhythm, he also displays a softer side, which is often coloured by wistfulness and a sense of longing that is so characteristic of artists—and certainly, highland folk—and sometimes with sensuality that is irresistibly South American. The elegiac tribute to his brother in “Andrea” and the wonderfully dreamy “Hatari,” where the full force extent of the talent of saxophonist, Xavier Perez, trumpet and flugelhorn player, John Walsh and Torres’ sensitive use of the percussion palette is heard are the true gems of this album.
The contemporary nature of this album should not go unnoticed. Despite the use of several traditional song forms, Martignon sounds modern and is indeed very forward-thinking in his approach to each and every one of them on this highly memorable album.
Tracks: Bala Con Bala; Second Chance; Coqueteos; Guaji-Rita; Andrea; She Said She Was From Sarajevo; Abre Los Ojos; Hatari; A Long Farewell; Alone Together.
Personnel: Hector Martignon: piano, accordion (7); Armando Gola: bass; Ludwig Afonso: drums; Samuel Torres: percussion; Xavier Perez: saxophones; Tim Collins: vibes (1, 2, 7, 8); Vinny Valentino: guitar (1); Edmar Castañeda: harp (3); John Walsh: trumpet, flugelhorn; Edward Perez: bass.
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Hector Martignon on the web: www.foreignaffair.com
Review written by: Raul da Gama
Trio Esperança – De Bach á Jobim (Disques Dreyfus – 2010)
There is a rare and celestial beauty that pervades throughout De Bach á Jobim, the album by the legendary a capella Brasilian group, Trio Esperança who share a very special connection with the 10-voice ensemble, Grupo Vocal Desandann. Both ensembles use the oldest instrument known to human kind in intricate harmonies that have a spirit connection seemingly as old as the Psalms of David. However, from the historical perspective, Trio Esperança first made musical waves in 1958, releasing their first album, Nó Somos o Sucesso, then becoming an integral part of Bossa Nova and the celebrated Musica Popular Brasileira tropicalisimo movement.
However unlike Desandann, which remains principally rooted in Afro-Haitian spiritual verve, Trio Esperança have broadened the scope of their music to include classical music from several eras—from baroque to the Beatles—melding it with the Brasilian to produce a burnished music that swells with sensuousness and gushes in waves of mighty Amazonian splendour.
De Bach á Jobim recorded after a span of five years since Bis-Jovem Guarda (EMI, 2006), is short, but features a powerful repertoire that spans 400 years—literally—from arias written based on suites and a cantata by Johann Sebastian Bach to classic charts by Jobim, an eternal song by Chico Buarque, “Joana Francesca” and a couple of Beatles favourites. “Penny Lane” has been rendered in Portuguese and is tinged with sadness. It melds the story of the Beatles original with the melancholy of chorinho with the splendour of a baroque choir. “Blackbird” is sung a Capella, in English, one of three or four languages that the group sings in. Both are masterful versions of songs that once defined popular culture. Here lies the rub. What sets Trio Esperança apart from any a Capella ensemble today is that they slide perfectly into popular culture today as they once did with Bossa Nova and MPB.
With contralto, mezzo soprano and soprano voicings the ladies of Trio Esperança direct their intakes of breath with such wonder that they are able to hang on to notes and make them vibrate with tremulous wonder. They do so on a superb version of “Joana Francesca” and “Romaria” and when they are joined on the surprise hidden track by their brother, Mario, which quotes freely from Puccini’s Turandot in a memorable manner.
The arrangements on this album are the sublime handiwork of Eva Corrêa’s husband and the group pianist, Gérard Gambus. The production is masterful, with the violão of Marcio Faraco just where it should be, weaving a musical tapestry in and out of the heavenly voices of Trio Esperanç as they guide the wide-eyed and the breathless on a memorable musical journey from Bach to Jobim.
Tracks: Caminho Da Razão; Upa Neguinho; Desafinado; A Rosa (Rancho Das Flores); Penny Lane; Blackbird; Samba Do Avião; Cantiga; Odeon; Joana Francesca; Uma Gota Do Mar; Romaria.
Personnel: Eva Corrêa: vocals; Mariza Corrêa: vocals; Regina Corrêa: vocals; Mario Corrêa: vocals; Marco Faraco: violão; Silvano Michelino: percussion; Inor Sotolongo: percussion; Marc Berthoumeiux: accordion; Gérard Gambus: piano. Strings of the Budapest Symphonic Orchestra.
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Trio Esperança on the web: www.facebook.com/pages/Trio-Esperanca/
Review written by: Raul da Gama
Federico Britos – Voyage (Sunnyside Records – 2010)
As the world continues to awake to the rising tide of undiscovered music and musicians from the South American paradigm—in an almost ironic kind of reversal of Alejo Carpentier’s voyage of musical discovery in Los Pasos Perdidos (E.D.I.A.P.S.A, 1953) or to the English-speaking world The Lost Steps (Alfred Knopf, 1956, Univ. of Minnesota, 2001)—the Cuban violinist Federico Britos celebrates five decades in the lonely and all but forgotten Chair of the Magisterium of South American Music with a spectacular Sunnyside offering, Voyage. This sojourn, documented at several moments in time is a dazzling journey featuring the violinist who was acknowledged as being somewhat untouchable in improvisational virtuosity by the great Jascha Heifetz as far back as 1959. The album also forms a monumental edifice that pays tribute to the melding of several idioms in improvised music and dance forms that characterize the music of the 20th and 21st centuries.
Federico Britos thrills throughout. His violin soars with sublime glissandi. It flutters and lets out melodious cries of triumph as he invents phrases and lines that revitalize old melodies. Britos ascends great heights of sound filling the silent spaces with speech-like gasps, high and mighty wails and epic moans that collide to create astounding sounds—beautiful, definitive arias hover and dance in the waning moments of their own music as the moments die into the past. However every moment of each song is a quantum packet of beauteous energy from the elegiac ballad to his wife, “Vivian” to the irresistibly seductive “Vivian Flavia de las Mercedes” and the memorable flamenco call and response of “Tomatito & Federico” a duet with the virtuoso Spanish guitarist, Tomatito.
Among the other gems on the album are the luminous versions of “Moonglow” and “Avalon” featuring Bucky Pizzarelli, a spectacular descarga—a hot Cuban jam—with the late bassist, Israel “Cachao” Lopez and two wonderful songs on which Puertorican conguero, Giovanni Hidalgo stretches majestically. The first is Rafael Hernandez’s “Capullito de Aleli” and the second is a track that closes the album on a high note, “Micro Suite Cubana.” On the latter, Hidalgo’s virtuosity is almost palpable and his wonderful solo throws the otherwise calm Britos into a violin frenzy of sorts as he reaches in to the uppermost register of his magnificent instrument, to play trill after trill of almost impossibly high notes with clarity and spectacular effect.
It is impossible to resist superlatives as Britos engages in triangular, quadrangular conversations with special other guests on Voyage. Bassist, Eddie Gomez, pianists Michel Camilo and Kenny Barron thrill to his music and respond in equal measure on “Vivian Flavia de las Mercedes” and “After You’ve Gone” respectively. The vastly underrated talents of pianist and arranger Carlos Franzetti are also represented here as is the percussion genius of Ignacio Berroa. These major artists, together with a myriad others make Federico Britos’ Voyage utterly irresistible.
Tracks: Vivian; After You’ve Gone; Vivian Flavia de las Mercedes; Moonglow; Tomatito & Federico; Capullito de Aleli; Las Vegas Station; Lluvia de Colores; Avalon; A Las Cuatro de la Manana; Okey Paganini; Oriente; Micro Suite Cubana.
Personnel: Federico Britos: violin (violin ensemble and soloist 1), arrangements (2 – 5, 8 – 12); Carlos Franzetti: piano and arrangements ( 1, 7); Eddie Gomez: double bass (1, 7); Ignacio Berroa: drums (1, 7); Leonardo Suarez Paz: violin (1, 7); Kristof Witek: violin (1, 7); Hector Falcon: violin; Federico Britos: violin (1, 7); Ron Lawrence: viola (1, 7); Zackaria Enikeev: viola (1, 7); Jessy Levy: cello (1, 7); Garo Yellin: cello (1, 7); Kenny Barron: piano (2); Phil Flanigan: double bass (2); Francisco Mela: drums (2); Michel Camilo: piano (3); James Chirillo: guitar (4, 9); Jon Burr: double bass (4, 9); Tomatito: guitar (5); Giovanni Hidalgo: congas and chekere (6, 13); Felix Gomez: piano (6, 10, 13), arrangements (6); Eddie “Guagua” Rivera: baby bass (6, 10, 13); Edwin Bonilla: percussion (6, 10, 13); Bucky Pizzarelli: guitar (9); Gaby Vivas: double bass (8, 11, 12); Antonio Adolfo: piano (8); Carlomagno Araya: drums (8); Israel “Cachao” Lopez: double bass; Jorge Vivas: guitar (11, 12); Eric Bogart: drums (11); Rafael Solano: percussion (12); German Piferrer: arrangements (13).
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Federico Britos on the web: www.myspace.com/federicobritosvoyage
Review written by: Raul da Gama
Bobby Carcassés – De La Habana a Nueva York (Vero Records)
The insane revelry of the guaguancó kicks off De La Habana a Nueva York, and produces a blue flame of energy from an all, but forgotten master musician, Bobby Carcassés. The Cuban-born flugelhorn player, pianist, percussionist, raconteur and vocalist of exceptional talent and virtuosity has been making a quiet noise—heard, sadly, only by his musical peers—for over fifty years. With this fine album, it is hoped that the world will listen.
So it is with the wonderful “Blues Guaguancó” the musicians open the proceedings with incredible melodic invention—one firing graceful depth bombs on the tumba, another tapping out a staccato counter melody playing cross-clave and striking up a counter rhythm, setting up the third—a quinto—to run riot as Carcassés mimics both melody and rhythm before the saxophone cuts in. This is not uncommon in a rumba derivative of this nature, but the one tapped out by Bobby Carcassé is stunning. The high level of energy; the inventive twists and turns in Carcassés phrasing and intonation; his soprano overtones simultaneously and magically overlaid upon his husky, breathless voice as it careens madly swerving around the melody as he turns music into the high art of creativity.
Even when he sings in a language patently foreign to him, when he sings Youmans’ fabulous song, “Sometimes I’m Happy” rolling his “R’s”and elongating his “ou’s” he conjures up memories of Jimmy Durante and Victor Borge. Yet Carcassés is being himself, the Cuban anomaly, born of the same genius that created Benny Moré, Arsenio Rodriguez and Chano Pozo, Emiliano Salvador and Chocolate. Just As wonderfully and impossibly, he turns George Gershwin’s “Summertime” into an a capella classic filled with such unheard of magic that for once, it appears someone has outdone every singer and scat artist in town—including, improbably, Bobby McFerrin, in the twisted and breathtaking ending of the song.
The emotion he is able to squeeze out of his voice in the Afro-centric, “Babalú” as he chases Andrea‘s Brachfeld’s flute and Yosvany Terry’s alto saxophone, stirring up a quiet frenzy with his scat singing as the chorus of Magilé Alvarez and Descemer Bueno keep things anchored in the son montuno is a thing of beauty and unforgettable. That must be a peak? But no, now there is more as the ensemble launches into “Blues for Chano” with Osmany Paredes’ expansive piano followed by Carcassés’ mystical call to the conjure up the spirit of his percussionist friend. Then a muted, charged flugelhorn solo marks the walking lines of the blues segment of the song before he comes back to the Afro-Cuban rumbero tribute again. Here Carcassés is majestic—a shaman communing with the spirits, a king chanting a royal pronouncement and a mad rumbero himself, goaded on by superb drumming from the prodigiously talented drummer, Dafnis Prieto.
“Veronica,” a wonderful ballad to his wife, shows the elegiac side to Bobby Carcassés and also recalls his softer side. His flugelhorn break following the first half chorus is also worthy of a virtuoso horn player, which he certainly is. Here too his intonation and phrasing is exceptional in its understatement. And finally there is “De Habana á Nueva York, a track that melds danzon with guaguancó, guaracha, bolero, mambo and the blues, via a muted, yet charged solo by Carcassés as he traces his colourful life from child to manhood, from Cuba to the United States.
This album is definitive Bobby Carcassés. It is the high point of his artistry, an honest, emotional and devastatingly beautiful album by an artist who joins several of his peers as one who defines a culture, a whole way of life that is boundless in its creativity, humility and spirituality.
Tracks: Blues Guaguancó Sometimes I’m Happy; No Seras de Mi; Green Dolphin Street; Babalu; Summertime; Blues Para Chano; Veronica; De La Habana a Nueva York.
Personnel: Bobby Carcassés: vocals, flugelhorn, percussion, piano, arrangements; Dafnis Prieto: drums; Osmany Paredes: piano; Yunior Terry: bass; Yosvany Terry: saxophones, chekere; Marvin Diz: percussion; Andrea Brachfeld: flute (5); Magilé Alvarez: chorus; Descemer Bueno: chorus.
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Bobby Carcassés on the web: www.bobbycarcasses.com
Review written by: Raul da Gama
SunlightSquare Latin Combo – Havana Central (2010)
Just how contagious is the music of Cuba? It has spread far and wide in a veritable pandemic. It is no longer an underground thing, something the Brits love to call any music that is not conventional rock and pop (how inane those monikers now sound). The seismic activity that comes from SunlightSquare Latin Combo on Havana Central was in fact a cracking session that the ensemble recorded over on the sunshine isle—no not Her Majesty’s territories at all, but Che’s and Fidel’s. There can be no doubt that a Brit combo like SLC would have been transformed by the flights of musical fancy that they collided with in Havana. The evidence is in the swaggering music that is steamy and innovative from end to end.
There is something truly magical about this session, something too many expat musicians miss when delving into their passions—but not in this case, with Italian-born keyboard artist, Claudio Passavanti. The missing piece in too many American and Canadian adventures is the tres, a four-stringed, shrill guitar derivative. This instrument is native to Cuba and very different from guitar derivatives across South America—for instance, the violaõ in Brazil and the charango in Peru. The tres is double-stringed and tuned in 2nd inversions of C or D chords. It is played rhythmically with melodic lines and chords are rarely strummed, but the tres strengthens the melodic line in a 3rd or 6th above with rhythmic fills in between. There are a few examples of virtuoso playing, but the finest on the record is heard on “Toca Otra Vez.” This is a dramatic coo-down after a particularly heated and wound up set and the elegiac drama of tres and piano is beautifully intertwined towards the middle of the piece.
The other dramatic event on this album is the sublimely graceful melding of instruments—including the brass and woodwinds—with percussion and keyboards. This is true Cubanissimo style playing, where the son muntono is classically suave and almost like velvet snuggling up to silk. For that the inspiration must come from the meeting of minds—Passavanti’s and the Cuban contingent led by “Toni” Rodriguez. And why there has not been more son and bolero with the gravitas of the Hammond B3 will remain a mystery. This is just as the magic of the Hammond B3 is unlocked by Passavanti for this project.
A final memorable element of the music is its harmonic richness throughout. “Bebidas Para Ti, Ron Para Mi,” “Asi Toda La Vida” and “Teardrop” are fine examples of how vertical embellishments can be contrapuntally arranged and performed in a manner so like the magical; double-helix that they become almost unforgettable. This music echoes long after the final musical notes have faded into the past, thanks to these organically interwoven devices.
Tracks: La Banda; Havana Central; Para Guarachar; I Believe in Miracles; Bebidas Para Ti, Y Ron Para Mi; Asi Toda La Vida; Teardrop; El Pollo De Carlitos; Chan Chan Boogaloo; Toca Otra Vez.
Personnel: Giovanni Imparato: tumbadora, small percussion, baila (1), backing vocals; Lázaro Antonio Rodriguez (Toni): bongo, campana, guiro, lead and backing vocals; Rayhner Lasserie: baila, backing vocals; Eduardo “El Dinamico”: baila (9); Ignacio R. “El Chispa” Cervantes: bass; Luis Amaurys Leyva Suárez: tres; Claudio Passavanti: piano, Hammond B3, backing vocals; Yanko Pizaco: trumpet; Alexander Valdés Sarduy: trumpet; Yamil Rivero Cárdenas: trombone; Joel Sagó Bell: trombone; Aaron Liddard: baritone, tenor, alto saxophones, flute; Quentin Collins: trumpet (6), Yanko Pizaco: trumpet (1); Brandon Allen: tenor saxophone (1, 6, 7); Trevor Mires: trombone (1, 7); Gareth Lockrane: flute, piccolo (1, 5, 10); Danaily Hernandes Del Valle: backing vocals; Nelli Miranda Ortega: backing vocals.
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Sunlightsquare Latin Combo on the web: www.sunlightsquarerecords.com
Review written by: Raul da Gama
Arturo Sandoval – A Time for Love (Concord Jazz – 2010)
The great trumpeter, Maurice André and Wynton Marsalis apart (who play in other musical realms as well, everybody really serious about the idiom of jazz—about music in general—dreams about making a recording with a string ensemble. Louis Armstrong made What a Wonderful World, his album of Broadway, Hollywood and standard charts. Cornetist, Warren Vaché made his, Don’t Look Back (Arbors Records, 2006) with the Scottish Ensemble. The list goes on. Now to add to that Cuban-born trumpeter Arturo Sandoval who has released the simply titled A Time for Love. Although this is Sandoval’s first album with a string orchestra, he actually made another orchestral album, Dream Come True (GRP, 1993). That one featured a brass and woodwinds section on some charts, and a brass, woodwinds and string section on others. Both orchestral segments were conducted by pianist and composer, Michel Legrand.
But this album is special—the effect of playing ahead of just strings is special—and Sandoval makes full use of the length and breadth of his talent for the romantic throughout. His playing is uncharacteristic of what he is accustomed to doing with his horn. He plays softer even than the Danish trumpeter and flugelhorn player, Palle Mikkleborg on Song… Tread Lightly (Columbia, 2000). The string arrangements by conductor, Jorge Calandrelli and pianist, Shelly Berg are marvellous and Sandoval plays both trumpet and flugelhorn—sometimes one atop the other—with such majestic facility that he sometimes conjures up visions of being carried up on the wings of angels. His intonation is perfect, as is his phrasing and he plays low, almost like Nat Cole singing.
The musical repertoire is of a very narrow spectrum. Almost all of it is romantic and some of the charts are so elementally sad that a generous helping of Kleenex might be suggested. Sadness equals catharsis in this case. The cleansing spirit of Sandoval’s playing is especially evident in “Oblivion (How to Say Goodbye,” a song he shares with the devastatingly beautiful voice of Monica Mancini; in the Charlie Chaplin classic, “Smile,” which he sings himself, in a surprisingly beautiful tenor and in “Every Time We Say Goodbye.” But the most elementally and evocative music is heard on the pieces by Gabrielle Fauré—“ Aprés Un Reve” and “Pavane”, and on Maurice Ravel’s masterpiece, “Pavane Pour Une Infante Defunte”. Here Sandoval bends and twists his horn as he squeezes every ounce of emotion possible from it. The strings in the background and Sandoval’s quartet too are magnificent as they back his every note on trumpet, muted and open belled and on overdubbed flugelhorn with rarefied grace.
The Ravel piece also features the horn of Chris Botti, who is sometimes cast in a setting so popular and facile that he is often mistaken for a tactless player. This duet with Sandoval, however, will surely indicate otherwise. Kenny Barron, that other player who is sublime in his reading of the romanticism of music is featured on “Every Time We Say Goodbye” and he is one of the main reasons that this chart is breathtakingly beautiful. But really, A Time for Love is a triumph largely because of Arturo Sandoval’s playing, which is of the highest order throughout. Jorge Calandrelli also makes the project worthwhile with his sensuous arrangements of charts that sound as if they were written especially for this project.
Tracks: Aprés Un Reve; Emily; Speak Low; Estate; A Time For Love; Pavane Pour Une Infante Defunte; I Loves You Porgy; Oblivion (How to Say Goodbye); Pavane; Smile; All The Way; Smoke Gets In Your Eyes; Windmills Of Your Mind; Every Time We Say Goodbye.
Personnel: Arturo Sandoval: trumpet, flugelhorn, vocals; Shelly Berg: piano; Chuck Berghofer: bass; Gregg Field: drums; Chris Botti: trumpet (6); Monica Mancini: vocals (8); Kenny Barron: piano (14); Orchestra: Bruce Dukov: concertmaster; Natalie Legget: violin; Phillip Levy: violin; Charlie Bisharat: violin; Darius Campo: violin; Liane Mautner: violin; David Ewart: violin; Tamara Hatwan: violin; Razdan Kuyumijian: violin; Searmi Park: violin; Songa Lee: violin; Kevin Connolly: violin; Tiffany Yi Hu: violin; Robin Olson: violin; Darren McCann: viola ; Harry Shirinian: viola ; Keith Greene: viola ; Alma Fernandez: viola ; Dennis Kamazin: cello; Vanessa Freebarin-Smith: cello ; Trevor Handy: cello; Christine Ermacoff: cello. Conductor: Jorge Calandrelli.
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Arturo Sandoval on the web: www.arturosandoval.com
Review written by: Raul da Gama
Kenia Celebrates Dorival Caymmi (Mooka Records – 2010)
Dorival Caymmi was considered a seminal figure in the music of Bahia in Brazil. His influence on the Música Popular Brasileira movement was incalculable and Gilberto Gil and Caetano Veloso continue to pay him homage in their original work even today as it is impossible to escape his influence. In the appropriately entitled album, Kenia Celebrates Dorival Caymmi, the wonderful vocalist, Kenia literally recreates the unusually festive nature of Caymmi’s work from music that became part of Baiano folklore to charts that Caymmi wrote later in his celebrate career. For Kenia the album takes her back to her childhood in and around Rio and to some songs that fired her ambition to become a singer herself. And what a singer she has become!
Kenia has a singular style, dripping with emotion, principally that unique Brazilian sensibility that comes from a certain saudades that infuses the soul of her music. But not all is elementally lonely in Kenia’s style of singing. She can create a whirl of joy at will. Her ability to turn puckish on a dime is also part of her singularity. This is clearly evident in her renditions of “Roda Pião” and Caymmi’s Baiano anthem, “Eu Vou prá Maracangalha.” Kenia also brings some of Caymmi’s most well-known music to refreshing light with her idiosyncratic takes on “Samba da Minha Terra,” “Você Já foi a Bahia,” and very possibly Caymmi’s most beloved composition, “Doralice.”
Kenia’s voice is unique among the Brazilians who sing today. It appears to emerge from deep within her body and she wields it like a shaman who is out to cleanse the world. Although she can be playful when she sings, the classicist in her often comes to the fore and then the vocalist returns to the purity of intonation and digs deep within her soul for the feeling that songs must carry in their lyric. Her masterful renditions of “Acontece que eu Sou Baiano” and “Nunca Mais” create a gravitas that elevates the music to an almost sacred nature. But it is on the chart, “A Vizinha do Lado” that Kenia commands the greatest respect as another player in the Brazilian pantheon of stellar vocalists. Here the singer becomes both griot and vocalist fusing the magic of storytelling and the skill of an operatic star as she carves out the words intoning them with perfect grace and impeccable diction. And her version of “Marina” is the epitome of beauty and sadness as she becomes the song itself.
The musicians who accompany Kenia on this musical voyage are another key to the success of this project. Pianist Fernando Merlino, who also arranged most of the charts, is an exquisite listener and accompanist. All vocalists need one and Kenia could not have found anyone better suited for that task. Jay Ashby, who is also credited with some arrangements and who shares percussion duties with the great Airto shines on trombone his principle instrument and he is superb. His fat sound fleshes out many songs and also adds much emotion to the music with his almost-vocal style. And guitarist Eric Susoeff always seems perfect when he moves in to solo on the downbeat.
There have been several albums that pay tribute to luminaries from the Brazilian soundscape. Ithamara Koorax has released one to commemorate the music of Joao Gilberto recently. Now this celebration of Dorival Caymmi’s work—albeit a small one that culls some favourites from his enormous repertoire—will add to keeping the memory of early popular Brazilian composers alive.
Tracks: Eu Não Tenho Onde Morar; Roda Pião; And Roses and Roses; Samba da Minha Terra; Vatapá; Requebre Que eu dou um Doce; Você Já foi a Bahia; Sábado em Copacabana; O Dengo que a Nega Tem; Acontece que eu Sou Baiano; Nunca Mais; Doralice; Eu Vou prá Maracangalha; A Vizinha do Lado; Marina.
Personnel: Kenia: vocals; Fernando Merlino: piano (1 – 5, 7 – 13, 15); Leo Travesa: bass (1 – 14); Airto Moreira: percussion (1 – 5, 8 – 10, 13); Jay Ashby: percussion (1, 3 – 11, 13, 14), trombone (4, 6, 11), background vocals (2); Lucas Ashby: percussion (4, 5, 7 – 10, 12 – 14); Thomas Wendt: drums (3); Eric Susoeff: guitar (7, 12 – 14); Marty Ashby: guitar (6); Tatjana Chamis: background vocals (2); Fabiana Chamis: background vocals (2); Ian Ashby: background vocals (2).
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Kenia on the web: www.kenialive.com
Review written by: Raul da Gama
Paul Austerlitz – Journey (Innova Recordings – 2008)
There is very little precedence for Journey, a work of striking newness and dazzling virtuosity, by the reeds player, Paul Austerlitz. First of all it occupies a rather narrow stream in Afro-Caribbean music—Dominican music of African origin—and secondly it is largely played on reeds of the very lowest register—only the great Anthony Braxton ventures there. It combines Yoruba chants with African and jazz musical idioms; contemporary poetry and entrancing musical expeditions that few have been inspired into producing. This is an ambitious work of complex, symphonic proportions even though it features few instruments: reeds, percussion, piano, the bass violin and—this is what sets it apart—the human voice.
To a large extent this is Austerlitz’s exegesis of the exodus of the African Diaspora as it melded into the Caribbean nation the Dominican Republic on an island, significantly, shared by that other maverick nation, Haiti. Of no less significance is the fact that like the avant garde musicians of the 60’s and the new movement occupied in solitary splendour by Anthony Braxton, the music flows like a flood tide as it finds a powerful confluence in the music of Charlie Parker and the bebop musicians. Moreover, Austerlitz succeeds in melting away the barriers that constrict musical literature by so-called genre. This truly exciting musical journey begins and ends in the African realm as it subsumes the “New World” that even Europe cow-towed to during and for centuries after The Age of Enlightenment. Perhaps Africa is the “New World” after all and the new Age of Enlightenment has dawned there.
Austerlitz’s journey begins with a powerful invocation to the Orisha, Elegba—or as he calls her, Elegbára. The music of “Bara Súwà Yo” is united in spectacular fashion with the contemporary spoken word—Logos in majestic ascent with ancient chants rendered as rhythmic figures fused into a spectacular whole by Austerlitz’s bass clarinet. “Underground Palo” in the second sequence of the musical score is the new Spiritual, a fascinating chart whose escarpment overlooks John Coltrane’s “Song of The Underground Railroad” and features a might chant that plays off the other instruments, especially the hypnotic ritual Afro-Dominican “palos” drumming. Freedom from slavery is gloriously suggested here as the music merges into a spectacular improvisation on one of Austerlitz’s reeds.
“Journey” is a fascinating addition to the symphony and is written in multiple meters as the music criss-crosses its way—like the exodus of the African Diaspora—through India, where the drone of the sitar blends with the talking drums of Kwaku Kwaakye Obeng. Nineteenth Century impressionistic modes collide with amorphous Indian ragas and African polyrhythm. The clarinet colors the musical canvas in several overdubbed incarnations. The resultant music is quite simply spectacular. In the subsequent sequence Austerlitz’s music traverses another hundred years. The significance of the jazz idiom cannot be over emphasized enough as the composer and performers zigzag their way through the last significant movement in its history—bebop. Austerlitz’s reworking of Charlie Parker’s “Ornithology” gives new importance to Bird’s masterpiece.
In the fourth section of this symphonic work, Austerlitz finds himself confronted by the staggering beauty of the geography of his new universe. The harmonics of “Mountains” is as striking as the vertical prospect of the topographical vistas and the linear arpeggios also suggest the extent of the musical canvas. Here, too, Austerlitz recomposes over a classic modern chart: His “East Broadway Merengue” is a startling revisit to the musical environs of Sonny Rollins’ classic “East Broadway Rundown,” which is superbly recast here. The setting is so apt for Michael S. Harper’s poetry, featuring sassy swaggering rhythms in three sections that bring the journey close to the formidable close that returns the music to an African canvas in a coda that features solo work on reeds by Austerlitz.
The musicians are masterful throughout. Led by Austerlitz, who soars like a great bird with a reed and a thermal only to swoop and tumble at every turn with graceful abandon. His solo improvisations are brimful with fresh ideas. His intonation is masterly and his phrasing gentle and evocative. Austerlitz is the consummate technician, but whose virtuoso skills are put to perfect use with emotional readings of his work and in some cases the compositions of others. His ensemble is also blessed with great talent—Santi DeBriano, Barry Olsen the percussionists, especially Phoenix Rivera, are just a few of those who perform with great skill and emotion too.
This is a work of great mastery and importance. It is only a matter of time before it receives its just desserts.
Tracks: Chapter One: In-Vocation: Bara Súwà Yo; Chapter Two: Palo and Beyond: Underground Palo; One Peace; Journey; Thunder Flow; Chapter Three: Merengue and Bebop: Ornithology; Sisterhood is Powerful; Santiago; Chapter Four: Poetry and Song: Mountain’s Music; A Place Inside; East Broadway Merengue (Featuring “The Latin American Poem”); Two Poems (Featuring “Br’er Sterling and the Rocker” and “Twiddlin’ Thumbs”); World Consciousness-Arena (Featuring “Corrected Review”); Chapter Four: Out-Vocation: Bara Súwà Yo (Reprise).
Personnel: Paul Austerlitz: contrabass clarinet, bass clarinet, clarinet, tenor saxophone, voice; Barry Olsen: piano ( 1 – 3, 7, 10, 13); Gustavo Rodriguez: keyboards (6, 9, 11); Angelina Tallaj: piano (8); Santi DeBriano: acoustic bass (1, 3, 12, 13); Bernie Miñoso: acoustic bass (2, 5, 7, 10); Dave Zinno: acoustic bass (4); Juan Valdéz: electric bass (6, 9, 11); Phoenix Rivera: drum set (2, 5, 7, 10); Royal Hartigan: drum set (1, 3, 12, 13); Wellington Valenzuela: drum set (6, 9, 11); Kwaku Kwaakye Obeng: donno, cowbell (1, 3, 4, 13); José Duluc: palos, balsié, güira, voice (2, 5, 7, 10); Julio Figueroa: tambora, conga, bong& #243, güira (6 – 8, 10, 11, 13); Michael S. Harper: poet (11 – 13); Regie Gibson: spoken word (1); Renee Cologne: voice (9, 10).
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Paul Austerlitz on the web: www.paulausterlitz.org
Review written by: Raul da Gama