Listening to improvised music
can feel like chasing ecstasy: catching at those rare, first and fleeting
moments of transport, of heightened attention and unadulterated joy that the
performers are also after, often on our behalf – what John Coltrane might have called,
following the title of one of the movements of A Love Supreme, pursuance. Last night in Vancouver in an 80-minute
set, the alto saxophonist Darius
Jones, buoyed up by the surging mellifluence of the piano trio Tarbaby, unleashed those
spirit-heavy resonances, that deep cry, in song after song. I’m grateful to
been there in the audience at the Ironworks,
grateful to have heard. The compositions they played came mostly from Darius
Jones’s recent album on AUM
Fidelity, Book of Mae’bul, but
despite being assembled as a quartet only for a current brief tour, these
musicians are much, much more than featured-soloist-and-rhythm-section; they
attain an audible integration, a co-creative and responsive agency that feels
as if they have been together for years. The opening number reminded me a
little of a David S. Ware quartet, with
its roiling, keening groove, while I also heard passing echoes, I thought, of
Coltrane’s late quartet, with Nasheet
Waits’s multiloquent drumming calling up at times the robust, insistent
textures Rashied Ali’s layered conception. Orrin Evans’s piano
alternates between attenuated lyricism – his left-hand chords often feel
suspended, as if holding their breath – and driving provocation. At one point
in an improvisation, he appeared to find the famous melody from “I Got Rhythm,”
not as an ironically knowing quote but as a means of casting our ears back over
a century of foundational jazz practice, palpably reinvigorating a fragment of
thoroughly worn-down standard by pulling and caressing the familiar phrase into
an alternate time-frame, cross-purposing, if only for a few seconds, the known
and the unknown, unsettling the given. Eric
Revis’s bass playing felt charged and profound, pushing the music forward
with cascading fierceness. Darius Jones’s lines negotiated between dulcet and
ululating, shifting from seductive balladry to jagged yawp, before arriving at
what felt to me like heartfelt psalmody. The quartet offered us a tremendous,
powerful and moving set, a music that, for almost an hour and a half, bore witness to and delivered
genuine, shared beauty.
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