Two Rivers

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‘Tales From a Forbidden Land’ – Eyal Lovett Trio, featuring Gilad Hekselman (2CD)

eyallovett

AN OPENING GAMBOL through Henry Mancini’s The Days of Wine and Roses offers little indication as to what else lies behind the gatefold covers of Eyal Lovett’s double album Tales From a Forbidden Land.

Clearly stated as a trio recording (with double bassist Kenneth Dahl Knudsen and drummer Aidan Lowe), the Israeli pianist/composer also features the mellifluous, pedalled electric guitar hues of Gilad Hekselman in an absorbing programme of, predominantly, his own works. Lovett’s approach and use of instrumentation has a distintinctive aura – specifically, the influence of romantic classical piano (sometimes solo) coupled with sprightly, South-East Mediterranean rhythms and melodies, balanced with an introspective, heart-on-sleeve sensitivity which genuinely becomes enthralling.

Based in Berlin, and regularly touring European venues and festivals, Lovett describes these ‘tales’ as “an attempt to capture some aspects about the experience of being an Israeli artist living abroad”, and says it’s “also a metaphor, for each of us has our own ‘forbidden land’.” It’s an album of discovery, whose fascination never seems to wane (even across two discs); and listening-in feels like a personal, intimate response to the moods which unfold. Entry Point‘s dark, tentative steps over arco bass suggests an almost Tchaikovskian journey into the unknown, albeit with Middle Eastern piano and guitar inflections, whilst Odelya‘s lilting piano jazz acceptance prompts tremulant, gossamer echoes from Hekselman. The riffy bass definition of Daphna Eilat’s A Song For a Beloved Land is more buoyant – sunny, even – with Lowe’s percussion shaping its affable melodies (this band’s sense of control and expression is immaculate); and Hope Without Borders combines lush chordal and melodic piano with a spirited, unified momentum (the inspired connection between trio and guitarist especially reinforced here).

Wistful piano mazurka, Japanese Tale, is typical of the continual thread of emotion, its delicate waltz time brightening to include Hekselman’s pinpoint improvisations; and the more whimsical grace notes of Little Ones relax into sustained Lisztian lyricism, inviting Dahl Knudsen’s sympathetic bass extemporisations (remarkably affecting). Bitter Sweet‘s discordant, major-minor waltz stays long in the memory, diverting along unexpected, textural and rhythmic avenues – perhaps that’s one of the secrets to both the originality and interest of Lovett’s music; and bluesy, crescendoing, Esbjörn Svensson-like Something Begins, Something Ends once again integrates Hekselman, this time in particularly gritty, pitch-bent majesty.

There are so many treasures here – and these eighty-four minutes have, over a period of time, repeatedly called me back to focus on their intricacies and their sincerity. At the moment, I wouldn’t stray far without this very special collection (and the trio’s 2013 debut release, Let Go – with Malte Schiller and Ramiro Olaciregui – offers more sublime beauty). Touring in 2017, a UK visit from the whole quartet would be warmly embraced.

Tales From a Forbidden Land is available, as CD or digital download, from Two Rivers Records at Bandcamp.

Videos: A Song For a Beloved Land and Japanese Tale.

 

Eyal Lovett piano, compositions, arrangements
Kenneth Dahl Knudsen double bass
Aidan Lowe drums
featuring
Gilad Hekselman electric guitar

eyallovett.com

Two Rivers Records – TRR-019 (2016)

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‘Alimentation’ – Solstice

alimentation

WHAT A FEAST that Solstice spreads before us! A debut release, yet anything but an unknown line-up, this British sextet’s shared culinary enthusiasm is translated into an exploration of their combined compositional and instrumental possibilities – hence various ‘foody’ references. The musical outcome? Well, certainly luscious, zesty, cordial… and wonderfully satisfying.

A glance at the personnel is temptation enough – Tori Freestone (saxes, flute), Brigitte Beraha (voice), John Turville (piano), Jez Franks (guitars), Dave Manington (double bass) and George Hart (drums) – with each bringing original compositions to the table to prompt affable, fluvial conversations. The closeness of the collaboration was evident when the band presented this material at the 2016 Manchester Jazz Festival, and is discernible in this fine studio recording.

Brigitte Beraha is establishing herself as one the UK’s most dextrous jazz vocalists, including notable appearances on albums by Babelfish and Geoff Eales; and any comparison with Norma Winstone would seem quite appropriate. Across these nine tracks, her lyrical or wordless contribution is integral to the overall blend, and there’s a special affinity with Tori Freestone’s ever-tumbling wellspring of saxophonic invention. Space and balance are key. Even in the brisker numbers, there’s never a sense of oversaturation, thanks to consummate performances from Turville, Franks, Manington and Hart.

Ultimate Big Cheese‘s apparent, airy glee is enhanced by Tori Freestone’s delightfully feel-good flute; melodic Mourning Porridge, with a unison voice-and-guitar pairing redolent of Pat Metheny, finds Freestone’s characteristic tenor waltzing around feathery percussion and Dave Manington’s authoritative bass resonances; and Jez Franks’ acoustic timbres in his own composition, Tilt, provide a folksily-threaded backdrop to Beraha’s scat. Björk’s original The Anchor Song is a pearl of almost naive charm – but this band’s interpretation, in an arrangement by Dave Manington, is achingly beautiful, the affecting simplicity of voice and piano preceding a magical, bubbling otherworldliness, with a particularly vivid pictorialisation of diving to the bottom of the ocean.

Avocado Deficit (Freestone’s title inspired by her surprise that a friend hadn’t eaten the fruit for twenty years!) ascends, Escher-like, as the tenorist’s seamless phrasing emphasises its endless, hypnotic path. Beraha’s poetic delivery is central to Her Words, Like Butterflies, adorned by John Turville’s piano elegance; there’s an adroit sax-and-voice connection in Tori Freestone’s buoyant Universal Four (from her trio album In the Chop House); and George Hart’s turbulent, darkly-hued Solstice encourages dramatically screeching voice and sax. Arranged afresh for this ensemble, Beraha’s bright Unspoken closes the set with affirming repeated chorus (“It’s the cycle of life”).

Released on 9 December 2016, and available as CD or digital download from Two Rivers Records at Bandcamp, Alimentation is a joy from beginning to end. To quote B Guðmundsdóttir – right now, “this is where I’m staying, this is my home.”

 

Tori Freestone tenor sax, soprano saxophone, flute
Brigitte Beraha voice
John Turville piano
Jez Franks guitars
Dave Manington double bass
George Hart drums

solstice-music.co.uk

Two Rivers Records – TRR-020 (2016)

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‘Burn the Boat’ – Fini Bearman

Fini

“ABANDON THE SHIP, embrace the water, take a leap of faith… don’t think of what could stop you.”

Such a challenge should resonate with all truly creative musicians. And if you ever ruminated on whether the songwriter’s art had mostly degenerated into a three-chord trick – with a middle eight, if you’re lucky – then vocalist and composer/lyricist Fini Bearman traverses vast, colourful oceans to dispel those notions (see what I did there?). 2014’s album of new interpretations from George Gershwin’s Porgy & Bess is an especially captivating listen; but now, with Burn the Boat, Bearman presents a collection of mostly self-penned songs, three of which are crafted upon the works of American/Portuguese poets.

The point of difference in Fini Bearman’s melodic, contemporary/folk artistry is that its basis is in contemporary jazz – and from that genre’s sea of accomplished instrumentalists, you could hardly wish for finer collaborators than Matt Robinson (keys), Nick Costley-White (guitar), Conor Chaplin (bass) and Dave Hamblett (drums). Here is a writer who not only vividly communicates her own thoughts and others’, but also wraps the sung words in shifting waves of colour and texture, combining crashing breakers with coruscating pools of heart-on-sleeve emotion. Recorded at residential Giant Wafer Studios, tucked away in rural Mid Wales, there’s a tangible sense of conviviality emanating from these fifty minutes – and familiarity with these nine originals only heightens the attraction.

Sand on Sand‘s airy, exuberant invitation to “Step out of the darkness… and into the light” is layered with vocals as piano, guitar and synth washes perpetuate its positive spirit – and alongside the bubbling, commercial appeal, it is crowned with lush instrumental finesse. Title track Burn the Boat‘s scratchy guitar-rock ascension (Costley-White’s electronics so ‘on it’ here) enhances the suppleness of Bearman’s emphatic delivery as Robinson’s synth lines soar overhead, whilst the catchy, poetic lines of Gone, co-written by Tommy Antonio – “Fell asleep with my clothes on, screensaver waving ’til dawn” – are musically ’70s-reminiscent of Daryl Dragon and Toni Tennille; and, again, it’s difficult to emphasise enough the incisive jazz invention.

Deeply-felt You Bring the Sunlight focuses on the strong bonds of relationship (“I’d rather have nothing at all”), the folksy, guitar- and piano-accompanied gracefulness suggesting a touch of ‘talkin’ at me’ Harry Nilsson; and Bearman’s playful miniature I Know, I Alone (based on Richard Zenith’s translation of Fernando Pessoa’s short poem) is carried by Dave Hamblett’s colourful percussive display. Maybe Next Year‘s reluctant acceptance is portrayed through an imaginative, undulating arrangement enhanced by the improvisatory clarity of Robinson and Costley-White, whilst Langton Hughes’ poem The Idea inspires a purposeful touch of soundtrack, or even musical theatre – much of that due to Bearman’s characteristic, acute sense of expression and storytelling.

Say the Words is an album standout to put on loop – buoyed by Conor Chaplin’s aqueous yet mobile electric bass and Matt Robinson’s Latinesque piano highlights, this exquisite, soulful, shuffling groove is so evocative of Stevie Wonder that a vocal duet with Fini is imaginable! Such a Fool closes the album, bathing E E Cummings’ poetry in watercolour atmospherics before its animated conclusion – and he couldn’t have foretold it better: “May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.”

Released on Two Rivers Records, Burn the Boat is a ‘must hear’, available as CD or digital download at Bandcamp.

 

Fini Bearman voice, composition
Matt Robinson piano, Rhodes, synths
Nick Costley-White guitar
Conor Chaplin bass
Dave Hamblett drums

Album art by Fini Bearman

finibearman.com

Two Rivers Records – TRR-015 (2016)

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‘Klammer’ – Rick Simpson

Klammer

clamour ■ n. a loud and confused noise. ■ v. (of a group) shout or demand loudly.

IT WOULD SEEM rather off beam to suggest that this sextet resembled (in more conventional spelling) the above definitions; but they do provide a clue to their full-on, angular and often wondrously oblique approach to jazz.

Rick Simpson is a regular sideman on the London scene, as are his colleagues in this line-up – and saxophonists Michael Chillingworth and George Crowley are no strangers on the front line together (see recent release Scratch and Sift), communicating no-holds-barred creative grit and energy. The prospect, then, of them melodically heading-up the pianist’s original, unpredictable compositions is something to relish, especially in collaboration with vibraphonist Ralph Wyld, bassist Tom Farmer and drummer David Hamblett.

Simpson’s broad musical understanding and appreciation provides a solid basis for his writing, though improvisation is a key motivator (as much at home with the music of Kenny Wheeler as Django Bates, or as inspired by post-bop as free jazz). So in this project, the avoidance of structure doesn’t signal ‘clamour’, but rather that the zesty compositions offer his colleagues considerable freedom – and it’s notable how, throughout this near-hour-full box of delights, arranged phrases can either meld or snap into the wide-open spaces of individual extemporisation.

The many rhythmic intricacies here must surely pose a knotty challenge, as evidenced in the first two tracks, Pins and Beware of Gabriel Garrick Imitators; and the furtive, jolting advancement of sax, vibes and bass (especially with Tom Farmer on board) resembles the excellence of Empirical. But, although Rick Simpson is happy to join the combined ‘klang’ of the ensemble, on Fender Rhodes, his pianistic inventiveness also regularly comes to the fore. So he shapes How Deep is Your Disrespect with the kind of sensitive, wayward fascination associated with John Taylor; and his ‘alarm’ ostinato in this number, picked up from Ralph Wyld’s vibes, is an attention-grabbing vehicle which sparks percussive excitement, as well as typical outlandishness from Chillingworth and Crowley (turn it up loud!).

A pianist’s approach to composition can clearly be picked out in slow-moving, spacial Orbital, as lush alto and sax harmonies are complemented by nebulous, star-glinting piano and vibes which are then sumptuously swelled by the whole ensemble; and aqueous, tremulant Rhodes in Sea Change binds together the evolving, painterly layers of a jewel-encrusted canvas. The complexity of volatile, irascible Greasy Child! Ugly Man!, with its simple yet provocative double-horn jibing, is riveting; so, too, is bright, snappy Unsustainabubble whose straight-ahead tenor and bass hook-up is immaculately delivered. Rings End is packed full of undulating intrigue, somehow suggesting a comedic movie accompaniment; and the easy, South African lilt of Surreal Estate (almost ten minutes in duration) is just the prelude to a many-roomed promenade, crescendoing to a synth-enhanced climax.

Shut out any other forms of, er, ‘klammer’… and revel in its spirited fullness.

Released on Two Rivers Records, on 30 September 2016, and available from Bandcamp.

 

Michael Chillingworth alto and tenor saxophones, clarinet, bass clarinet
George Crowley tenor saxophone
Ralph Wyld vibraphone
Rick Simpson piano, Fender Rhodes, Wurlitzer, MS-10, glockenspiel, harmonium
Tom Farmer double bass
David Hamblett drums

ricksimpsonjazz.com

Two Rivers Records – TRR-012 (2016)

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‘ELDA trio’ – ELDA trio

ELDA

THE VOICE that launched… well, a whole new expression of jazz unveils her eponymous debut recording with Slovenian accordionist/vocalist Janez Dovč and Brazilian-born percussionist/vocalist Adriano Adewale – ELDA trio.

Over the last few years, award-winning Swedish singer Emilia Mårtensson has graced a number of fine recordings, such as those of Kairos 4tet (including Everything We Hold) and her own solo albums (the most recent, Ana). Based in London, she is unsurprisingly in demand for various jazz and cross-genre projects, the dexterity, warmth and Anglo-Swedish clarity of her voice so fascinatingly distinctive and desirable.

Mårtensson explains that the concept of providing a confluence for their own cultural and musical experiences was an exciting prospect for the trio – the idea of creating, through the folk music/tales of their three countries of origin, a space to develop and express new compositions with differently-timbred voices, traditional instruments and electronics. From the resultant twelve tracks – mixed, mastered and produced with the reputable expertise of Alex Killpartrick and Chris Hyson – unfolds an atmospheric, enchanting thread of emotion, longing and joy which feels as peerless as it is beautiful.

Much of the album was conceived by Mårtensson in Izola, on the coast of Slovenia; so it’s greatly inspired by the sea, especially her grandparents’ story of how they moved from Slovenia to Sweden (and her empathy with accordion music stems from the impression made on her by her grandfather’s talent for the instrument). So a strong element of adventure and journeying is evident both in Mårtensson’s sincere delivery of her poetic lyrics (“I’ll always remember when the moon fell asleep behind the hill”) and in the chameleonic chordal and percussive invention which Dovč and Adewale supply – and that sense of the unknown, throughout, holds the attention.

Dusky memories in Stone Agaton are emphasised by Adewale’s deep chantings, accompanied by earthy percussion; and songwriter Jamie Doe’s positive, accordion-pulsed love ode, Winter, appears to sneer at the darkest season (“So put on all your jumpers and scream around the house”). Homely, descending chromatics, along with Mårtensson’s warm, high tones, are a joy in Barnaby Keen’s The Air Holds a Memory, whilst the contrasting themes of exile in Aleksandrinke touch the heart, emphasised by the watery swell of udu; and tranquil, overlaid vocals alone in To the Sun, To the Moon evoke cool, clear skies above silhouetted forests.

Rhythmic Mårtensson/Dovč composition Hon Och Han might suggest it has long been rooted in tradition (redolent of, say, Trio Mediæval’s output), even with an anthemic, Coldplay-like chorus; and following, sustained by bass synth, the vocals of Dovč’s slow, mysterious The Tree cry upwards to the moon. Quirky hoots, squeaks and clangs in Jac Jones’ Ellis Dreams are interspersed with a blithe vocal/synth melody; and the hollow, echoic interpretation of Swedish folk song Remembering/Vem Kan Segla further confirms Mårtensson’s clear communication with Dovč’s sensitive accordion phrasing.

A mesmerising solo from Adewale – I am dreaming with you – is quietly disconcerting, with shouts and percussive rattles three-dimensionally coming in and out of range through the darkness; the Konnakol introduction of Dovč’s Tillsammans curiously evolves into a hint of melodic, swingin’ Sixties; and Adewale’s trio curtain-call, Lobo Guara, fizzes with joie de vivre (Emilia perhaps overdoing it on the punsch!).

Catalogue it in ‘jazz’, ‘folk’ or ‘world’… wherever, ELDA trio is a beautiful experience.

Released on Two Rivers Records, on 23 September 2016, and available from Bandcamp.

 

Emilia Mårtensson vocals
Janez Dovč accordion, synth bass, electronics, vocals
Adriano Adewale percussion, vocals

eldatrio.com

Two Rivers Records – TRR014 (2016)

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‘Scratch and Sift’ – Michael Chillingworth

Scratch2

THE CURIOUS ASSORTMENT of characters above conceals a delicious preponderance of reeds in Michael Chillingworth’s debut septet album, Scratch and Sift.

Saxophonist and clarinettist Chillingworth is a mainstay of London’s contemporary jazz scene, working with artists such as Stan Sulzmann, Julian Siegel, James Maddren and Kit Downes. So it’s fascinating to discover the free thinking of his own writing, realised with colleagues Tom Challenger (tenor, clarinet), Josh Arcoleo (tenor), George Crowley (bass clarinet), Lewis Wright (vibes), Sam Lasserson (bass) and Jon Scott (drums).

Here is an album which rasps and sizzles so hard and so densely that it’s hard to ignore. Contrastingly sweet and sour, many of these eight, original compositions somehow seem to convey the arresting wit, irony and dark mischievousness to be found in classic, monochrome Ealing comedies. Right from the off, stealthy vibraphone and spicy horn ta-dahhs in Butterman lure the senses into an unusual world of theatrics and drollery, its agile melodies and close, spiky arrangements shadily tiptoeing around each corner; and Mint‘s syncopated blarings are matched by Jon Scott’s perky percussion, with some delightful individual improvisations widening into more open landscapes.

Yes, there’s a certain, honest Britishness to Chillingworth’s musical imagination. Overlaid tumblings in Brian Kuh give way to rapid, exuberant sax anarchy as the leader’s swirling alto is taunted by his assailants amidst challenging, irregular riffs (unpredictable, scampering unison passages here, which break into harmony, are especially effective… nay, smile-inducing). The furtive bass clarinet, double bass and vibes of clock-ticking The Wait (not to be listened to, alone, on a dimly-lit railway platform!) eventually screech to jittery alto and a cacophony of wailing sirens; so it’s quite likely that lumbering, irascible Capture is the resultant, bumpy, Black Maria journey!

Politely funky Grateful Lady is a joy, Lewis Wright’s repeated vibraphone chromatics providing the notorious ‘sax and clarinet boys’ with an opportunity to knock seven bells out of each other – so much vim and vigour, encouraged by Lasserson and Scott in the propulsive rhythm section, and concluding with wonderfully wheezy, out-of-breath textures in the reeds department. Through the opening flick of one eye, Numbers‘ initial quietude becomes utterly mischievous, its inquisitive alto extensions and trills breaking into communal boogie; and closing Righteous fools no-one – a chuffing, squawking hullabaloo which, though microscopically arranged, is as tireless and wild as the album’s earlier, madcap adventures – and Chillingworth’s hard-blown improv just as audacious.

Awright, mate [nudge, wink]… go get it!

Released on Two Rivers Records on 1 July 2016, Scratch and Sift is available from Bandcamp.

 

Michael Chillingworth alto saxophone, clarinet
Tom Challenger tenor saxophone, clarinet
Josh Arcoleo tenor saxophone
George Crowley bass clarinet
Lewis Wright vibraphone
Sam Lasserson bass
Jon Scott drums

michaelchillingworth.com

Two Rivers Records – TRR 010 (2016)