Ecm Dvd

John Surman (on baritone and soprano saxophones, bass clarinet, and synthesizers) and Jack DeJohnette (playing drums, electronic percussion, and piano) make for a very intriguing duo on these seven originals taken from a pair of live concerts. Other than "Song for World Forgiveness" (a ballad mostly by DeJohnette), the music is primarily freely improvised yet manages to be melodic, diverse, and logical. The performances are atmospheric, with both players utilizing electronics in spots while retaining their own musical personalities. Surman has long been a very flexible and mostly laid-back player, while DeJohnette also has the ability to fit in almost anywhere. Rather than individual melodies or solos, this CD is most notable for its overall feel and the blend between these two unique musicians.

Of all of Eberhard Weber's classic albums Yellow Fields is probably the most likely to appeal to the average prog fan. First of all because it opens with "Touch", the most "symphonic" piece Weber has ever recorded without using an actual orchestra: a lush, stately, moving instrumental ballad with gorgeous mellotron, and with the main melody played in unison by Charlie Mariano's lyrical sax, Rainer Brueninghaus's synth and Weber's own plangeant bass. "Touch" is utterly delightful, a major highlight in Weber's oeuvre.

Norwegian bassist Andersen's reputation in Europe over the decades is well established. He has appeared on a number of significant recordings, most notably Jan Garbarek's SAGN, and with his own iconoclastic ensemble Masqualero. IF YOU LOOK FAR ENOUGH distills those past endeavors into a most atmospheric, spacious outing. The more traditional elements of Andersen's heritage meet face-to-face with a profoundly European free-jazz sensibility.

In literary criticism, we throw around our fair share of arbitrary terms. Yet one I stand by, and of which I am especially fond, is “intertextuality,” which refers to the borrowing, shaping, and influence of texts on other texts. Similarly, one can say many things about Hungarian composer György Kurtág. He is a “master of the miniature,” a microscopic craftsman. His language implodes with a hermetic (im)precision. His wit is boundless, unassuming, and unabashedly lyrical. And so forth. But in the end, his sound-world is nothing if not intertextual.

The second, eponymous album from saxophonist-composer Tim Berne’s acoustic quartet Snakeoil. Over four years together, Berne and his band of New York standouts – pianist Matt Mitchell, clarinetist Oscar Noriega and drummer/percussionist Ches Smith – have developed a rapport that sounds like communal telepathy. The studio outcome is a marvel of kinetic action, the six pieces of Shadow Man making for music as visceral as it is cerebral; there is roller coaster dynamism and aching lyricism, roiling counterpoint and intriguing harmony, glinting detail and ensemble impact. The album is a dizzying experience for the senses, breathtaking in its sheer imaginative verve.

If one were to compile a list of iconoclastic and innovative guitarists who came to prominence in the 1980s and 1990s, the list would have to include such names as Michael Hedges, Adrian Belew, David Torn and Steve Tibbetts. While Tibbetts is probably the least known of the four, his work is easily on par with that of the others. What makes Tibbetts unique among these is that he is equally prone to playing acoustic and electric guitars. He has released several all-acoustic albums, but most of his albums feature a good mixture of both, as well as judicious use of electronic effects and a heavy reliance on a variety of exotic and familiar percussive instruments. Safe Journey is all of the above in a nutshell.

This 1979 recording is probably Afro-experimentalist Vasconcelos' finest. It presents his various facets – berimbao playing, intricate overlain vocals, fine percussion, even gorgeous guitar – simply and almost overwhelmingly. This is one of those performances that remind one to never let natural dogmatism get too out of hand.

David Torn is a musical chameleon, moving effortlessly from soundtrack work to pop projects to edgy improv, extending his guitar with electronic programming, sampling, and overdubs. Here he sets out at the helm of an improvising quartet with some regular partners from the New York Downtown School (saxophonist Tim Berne, keyboard player Craig Taborn, and drummer Tom Rainey) and then transforms the results with live sampling and extended studio tinkerings until the present set of pieces emerge in all their fractured and compound glory. Sounds morph suddenly into other sounds—-funk into heavy metal, guitar into radio wave, drum into bass–and time stretches and contracts.

Following his acclaimed recordings of sonatas by Biber, Schmelzer and Veracini and his no less lauded rendering of the complete unaccompanied works by Bach, British violinst John Holloway once again joins forces with his excellent partners Jaap ter Linden and Lars Ulrik Mortensen for an album of strikingly beautiful, yet little known chamber music from the baroque era. Jean-Marie Leclair (1697–1764) who trained as a dancer, lacemaker, violinist and composer and was murdered in Paris under obscure circumstances, laid the foundations for the French violin school. As a composer he is a master of mixed styles, providing a rare synthesis of Italian and French traits, of melodic beauty and dancelike vivacity. John Holloway has chosen sonatas from his “classical” period in which Leclair had gained a perfect balance of proportion, expressiveness and virtuosic display.

With Eyes Of The Heart, musician’s musician Keith Jarrett landed one of his last American Quartet flights. This live performance, recorded just one month after The Survivors’ Suite, is a journey of a rather different stripe. Jarrett whoops with delight as he opens Part One in a delicate congregation of drums. The kalimba-like bass of Charlie Haden hops from one foot to another as Jarrett looses a soprano sax into the prevailing winds. Only later does the expected piano shine through his fingertips. Writ somehow large with modest articulations, his right hand brings gradual insistence until the melody and the moment become one, each frame sped into a single moving image. Part Two begins with more lovely pianism, this time with grittier chording and the added sheen of Paul Motian’s kit work. An insistent vamp unravels Dewey Redman’s dazzling alto, and cushions the applause that follow.