JOANA SÁ

A Body as Listening (Clean Feed)

28

Diciembe, 2024

Texto: Ricky Lavado

Fotos: Vera Marmelo

El retorno en solitario de la consagrada pianista portuguesa Joana Sá ha tardado once años en llegar (desde el ya lejano Elogio da Desordem, de 2013), y no sólo cierra una trilogía comenzada con Through this Looking Glass (2010); sino que se trata, además, del proyecto más ambicioso y personal dentro de la extensísima y polifacética carrera de la siempre sorprendente creadora lusa.

Artista escurridiza e inquieta donde las haya, Joana Sá lleva ya muchos años transitando terrenos creativos alejados de lo convencional, con espíritu multidisciplinar y embarcada en una búsqueda continua de interacciones entre disciplinas estéticas que abarcan la experimentación audiovisual y la sinergia entre diferentes artistas del terreno del arte contemporáneo y la música de vanguardia. Pianista de formación, el trabajo de Joana Sà se desarrolla en el plano de las ideas y los conceptos; su búsqueda le lleva a investigar las texturas, los ambientes abstractos y las reacciones sensoriales al sonido, más allá de conceptos como forma o armonía. Redoblando ese componente intelectual y teórico tan presente en su trabajo, el nuevo disco de la portuguesa es una parte (la musical) de un proyecto fragmentado y amplio compuesto por diferentes elementos independientes pero relacionados, que incluyen un libro, una instalación virtual y diversas performances de lectura. En palabras de Joana Sá, su nuevo trabajo es una “cartografía resonante de (in)materialidades musicales”, y es de suponer que para abarcar el pleno significado y la intención final de un proyecto así de ambicioso habría que sumergirse en las diferentes dimensiones multidisciplinares que lo forman, pero aquí vamos a centrarnos en su dimensión musical; un disco que lleva por título A Body as Listening, publicado (como no) por el incombustible sello Clean Feed.

A Body as Listening es un trabajo que sumerge al oyente en un mar de quietud y calma, abstracto en todo momento y formado por composiciones que parecen suspendidas en el tiempo, huyendo de estructuras concretas y centradas en una búsqueda constante de lo sensorial.

A Body as Listening suena fantasmal, lejano de lo cerebral y teñido en todo momento por una sensación de libertad y de improvisación libre por terrenos creativos donde las resonancias, las vibraciones y las ambientaciones feéricas toman el protagonismo. No hay elementos disruptivos ni cambios de rumbo a lo largo de los 35 minutos de duración de A Body as Listening; Joana Sá está dotada de una habilidad sutil y precisa para que su música avance de forma orgánica y natural, como una neblina llena de misterio cuya densidad se construye con un número mínimo de elementos, y esa es una de las características más interesantes y envolventes del disco. El vacío, los silencios y el sonido limpio de un piano cristalino de carácter clásico y minimalista conviven con un uso sutil e inteligente de elementos electrónicos centrados en la creación de texturas. En un juego delicado de tensiones continuas, el carácter casi industrial y paisajístico de los ambientes oscuros y extraños creados a partir de la manipulación del sonido se contraponen con la belleza frágil y emocional del piano de la portuguesa, otorgando al disco un matiz experimental que podría llegar a emparentarlo con los ejercicios de investigación ambient de Loscil o incluso a los míticos Disintegration Loops de William Basinski.

La reverberación, la superposición sutil de texturas, el uso puntual de voces de fondo con aires pesadillescos y la elegancia constante del piano convierten este trabajo de Joana Sá en un viaje tan extraño como adictivo, que resulta más enriquecedor con cada nueva escucha. No es música para cualquier momento, y requiere de un estado de ánimo y una predisposición especial por parte del oyente para ser disfrutada de forma profunda, pero desde luego es un ejercicio que vale la pena experimentar.

LUÍS VICENTE TRIO

Come Down Here (Clean Feed)

27

Diciembre, 2024

Three years after Chanting In The Name Of, trumpeter Luís Vicente’s trio, featuring Gonçalo Almeida and Pedro Melo Alves, returns with the superb Come Down Here, once again released under the Clean Feed label.

By: António Branco jazz.pt

Titling the result of creative work is rarely free of challenges. Some titles are solemn, verbose, cryptic, even pretentious; others are straightforward and unassuming, referencing a special moment, a time, or a place, sometimes bordering on the ineffable. Trumpeter, composer, and improviser Luís Vicente hit the mark with the name of his latest album, freshly released on Clean Feed: Come Down Here. It’s the second release from a stellar trio that joins him with bassist Gonçalo Almeida and drummer Pedro Melo Alves. We’ve long known that communication and dialogue—with others, oneself, and the surroundings, a crucial element in musical discourse—are central to Vicente’s approach, developed expansively across multiple contexts and instrumental configurations. This “come here” carries significant weight.

“We could say it refers to the ‘vibe’ of the room, the moment we’re playing and feel a presence of something or someone conveying a memory, a feeling, ideally a good one,” Luís Vicente explains to jazz.pt. “It’s as if we’re taken by something that gives us an emotion and guides part of the process.”

Hyperactive both nationally and, especially, internationally, and embracing creative freedom, Luís Vicente occupies a front-row seat in the realm of adventurous jazz and its related improvised music. Beyond leading this trio and a quartet, he’s part of formations like Chamber 4, Frame Trio, Clocks and Clouds, Deux Maisons, Twenty One 4tet, In Layers, and Fail Better!; a quartet with John Dikeman, William Parker, and Hamid Drake (Goes Without Saying, But It’s Got to Be Said is a must-listen); trios with Seppe Gebruers and Onno Govaert or Olie Brice and Mark Sanders; and duos with Vasco Trilla, Marcelo dos Reis (the album (Un)Prepared Pieces for Guitar and Trumpet is worth revisiting), and Jari Marjamaki. Come Down Here arrives at a time when the trio’s other members, Almeida and Melo Alves, also have new releases, both under the Clean Feed label. Almeida’s States of Restraint was recorded in a trio with trumpeter Susana Santos Silva and percussionist Gustavo Costa, while Melo Alves’s Conundrum Vol. 1 is a compilation of duo recordings from a concert series of the same name.

“There’s a genuine, unique spirit within the group, built on trust and friendship that has grown over time,” says Vicente. “Communication flows naturally, and there’s a clear sense of synergy where each other’s movements are anticipated. This depth of creation is something that can only emerge when you’re working with certain individuals, allowing things to unfold and reach extraordinary, even magical, moments.”

Three years after the trio’s debut album Chanting In The Name Of, the new Come Down Here builds on composed and structured ideas drawn from a vast vocabulary amassed through years of experience and refinement. “We’re all improvisers and composers,” Vicente emphasizes. “The compositions are very specific but at the same time extremely open—they’re never played the same way, as it all depends on the day, location, mood, and how we interact with the written material.” This approach, revealing both individual and collective aesthetic growth, maintains the organic, free, and elastic character of their shared musical language. The result is open, pure music, fueled by shared ideas and values without the need for additional elements. A foundational motif is developed in various directions, thanks to the exceptional talent of the three musicians. While Come Down Here retains the style, dynamics, and phrasing of its predecessor, it moves forward. “The idea was for each of us to express ourselves without preconceptions, fully leveraging our abilities and showcasing our individuality, reaching a sonic state where the music itself takes on a central role—a drive where we are merely a conduit connecting to the universe,” Vicente explains. After introducing the composition to his bandmates, the trio develops the potential of each piece, “always keeping the approach open, allowing the music itself to suggest directions and new ways of engaging with its content.”

The album’s title track, which opens the record, begins with a trumpet motif that sparks a vibrant interplay between the three musicians, pushing energy levels to their peak (Melo Alves delivers a remarkable solo here). Hope II then cools the intensity, introducing a chamber-like atmosphere, with Vicente bringing a serene solemnity; Almeida employs the bow, and Melo Alves adds delicate nuances, creating a more abstract piece that explores contrasts reminiscent of certain contemporary classical music styles. A standout track is their rendition of an Afro-Brazilian song by an unknown composer, traditionally played in capoeira circles or Candomblé ceremonies: Mandei Caiar o Meu Sobrado (“I Had My Loft Whitewashed”). This song carries profound gravity (its sounds evoke a dense forest), with the trumpet delivering a clear, hymn-like melody around which the bass and drums orbit. The interaction builds to a climax, culminating in an intense solo by Almeida, complemented by intricate percussion. The double bass briefly returns to the bow to end the piece with an air of mystery.

As the title suggests, Why No Is No is focused and assertive (Vicente describes it as “a manifesto of nonconformity, questioning, non-acceptance, and refusal”), amplifying the intensity of the trio’s interactions with call-and-response exchanges, stimuli, and counter-stimuli. Its whirlwind ending is thought-provoking. The bass sets the tone at the start of Nascente, joined by the trumpet—here in a more textural mode, using extended techniques—and drums that enrich the soundscape. This collective improvisation seems to reflect the flow of a river, tranquil at times, turbulent at others. Closing the album, Penumbra, the longest track and one of its highlights, is a sonic gem richly detailed, demanding repeated listens to fully appreciate its depth. Here, Vicente (also using the mbira) masterfully alternates between melodic ideas and abstract explorations, occasionally performing unaccompanied. Almeida and Melo Alves add density, culminating in another remarkable bass solo that drives the piece to its climax.

At once complex and familiar, Come Down Here is an album that comforts and beckons—a special place to revisit time and time again.

THE ATTIC & EVE RISSER

La Grande Crue

20

Diciembre, 2024

The Attic trio, composed of saxophonist Rodrigo Amado, double bassist Gonçalo Almeida, and drummer Onno Govaert, is joined by French pianist Eve Risser for La Grande Crue, a superlative album.

Texto: António Branco jazz.pt

There are moments—and instruments—that change everything. If the saxophone-double bass-drums trio is an institution in the history of jazz, a fertile ground for exploration and freedom, a spark can ignite a process of expanding the spectrum of sonic possibilities and elevating the music to another level. The inclusion of the piano makes “La Grande Crue,” the fourth album by The Attic trio, a necessarily different record from its predecessors, bringing an entirely new dimension to the group’s music in harmonic and melodic terms. Eve Risser, a French pianist and an absolutely essential figure in the creative music of our time, commands a richly nuanced lexicon and exceptional versatility in any context—from solo to orchestra, including trio and quartet.

“The mere fact of incorporating a piano into the equations of improvisation completely changes the kind of energy released by the music, for us and for the listeners,” saxophonist Rodrigo Amado explains to jazz.pt. That was precisely the goal. “We went into the studio without any prior discussion about what we were going to do. The musical communication, as we imagined, was immediate. And Eve’s music acted as a true ‘flood’ of the trio’s music,” he emphasizes. Nothing would ever be the same again, to the point of astonishing the saxophonist himself with how, from then on, he began constructing his own discourse. “I was quite surprised by my language, with a certain harmonic sophistication I had not previously identified in my phrasing.”

This album is also where the group achieves a very particular level of maturity: “I feel this work as our point of maturity, in the sense that we have reached a certain creative coherence and stability, and now we can experiment even more, musically and in organizing alternative formations,” he states. In The Attic trio, the saxophonist—an inescapable name in the most stimulating jazz being made in Portugal and the most internationally recognized national musician in these realms today, constantly in motion—is joined by Gonçalo Almeida, a double bassist and sonic strategist based in the Netherlands, dividing his time among projects like Albatre, The Selva, Ritual Habitual, Spinifex, and Lama, and Dutch drummer Onno Govaert, who also has strong ties to the Portuguese scene through collaborations with Hugo Costa, Luís Vicente, and Marcelo dos Reis. The trio’s self-titled debut in 2017, still with Marco Franco on drums, was an auroral record, yet no less interesting or consistent. It was followed by Summer Bummer in 2019, featuring the current lineup in a live recording at the festival of the same name held in Antwerp, Belgium, and Love Ghosts, recorded in January 2020, just before the pandemic turned our world upside down.

After two magnificent albums—the 2023 debut of The Bridge quartet with Alexander Von Schlippenbach, Ingebrigt Håker Flaten, and Gerry Hemingway in Beyond the Margins, and The Invisible in 2024 alongside Dirk Serries and Andrew Lisle—La Grande Crue, recorded by André Fernandes at Timbuktu studios at the end of July 2023 and mixed by Joaquim Monte and Amado himself, features four improvisations lasting between 10 and 21 minutes, credited to the quartet.

A special mention goes to the wonderful painting by Manuel Amado, the saxophonist’s father and a major figure in 20th-century Portuguese visual arts. The painting is part of A Grande Cheia (The Great Flood), a series of 13 works painted in 1996 and first exhibited at the Calouste Gulbenkian Cultural Center in Paris in 2001. That same year, poet Nuno Júdice wrote a book of poems in dialogue with this series, titled Jogo de Reflexos (Game of Reflections), published in a bilingual edition by Éditions Chandeigne (Paris, 2001). One of these poems, Ângulo (Angle), is reproduced in the liner notes of La Grande Crue:

A reflection of light dies in the summer waters. The algae proliferate in its texture, drinking the window’s last glow. The room encloses me in a white architecture. I breathe a rhythm of drowned sheets. An inner voice announces oval metrics, which I repeat in the monotonous flow of the verse. This light, however, has the structure of melancholy.

The collaboration with the pianist—someone who had long been on the trio’s radar—introduced, as already noted, a myriad of new solutions to the group’s sound, elevating it to a different level. “Eve is an extraordinary pianist,” emphasizes Rodrigo Amado, citing the trio album she recorded with bassist Benjamin Duboc and drummer Edward Perraud, En Corps – Generation (2017), as well as the Red Desert Orchestra’s Eurythmia, released by Portuguese label Clean Feed in 2022. “She can uniquely incorporate completely abstract, purely sonic cells into a more conventional improvisational discourse, but no less interesting for it,” the saxophonist explains. When they learned that Eve Risser would be performing at Jazz em Agosto at the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation, the idea of initiating a collaboration immediately began to take shape. “Gonçalo already knew her reasonably well, and Eve agreed right away.”

The trio’s creative modus operandi remained the same—total improvisation. “We all entered a state of total immersion and maximum concentration,” says Amado, who appears here in a state of grace: powerful yet sensitive, shuffling the deck and dealing again, never imposing himself but always seeking to discover more about himself and his relationships with the musicians he judiciously selects for his groups. Gonçalo Almeida and Onno Govaert are monumental musicians who continuously add ideas and propose new paths in an organic, safety-net-free creative interplay nurtured by long-standing complicity.

In the opening track, Corps, the first sounds come from Almeida’s double bass, which, using the bow, immediately creates a solemn atmosphere; the hyper-delicate drums join in, Risser delves into her instrument’s innermost workings, and Amado plays with clarity and a remarkable sense of space. The piece evolves in a gradual crescendo of intensity, with the four musicians interweaving their lines. There’s a section where the saxophone-double bass-drums trio showcases telepathic interaction; at one point, the piano takes on a pivotal role, with very physical notes, and the intensity levels rise considerably. The saxophonist responds with high-octane sound bursts, which progressively allow silence to seep in, leading to a peaceful conclusion.

Peau brings a somewhat more jazz-like ambiance, largely driven by the way Amado conducts the proceedings—breathing and interactive, proacting and reacting; the piano contributes sparse yet decisive chords, and the rhythm section continues to astonish with its intricate clockwork. Risser once again takes center stage, showcasing her angular pianism. Rodrigo Amado resumes with short phrases, which the pianist contrasts with crystalline notes. The piece ends on a lamenting and unsettling note.

Phrase begins as a tour de force for Risser to thoroughly explore her instrument; the other musicians join in—featuring a superb solo by Govaert—and the meters approach the red. The saxophonist introduces a melodic line to which the piano responds sensitively. The piece takes on a somewhat more chamber-like character, with all four instruments engaging in multilayered games of restraint, respecting spaces yet not hesitating to challenge one another. Double bass and drums once again demonstrate their tight-knit tandem. Amado delivers focused, precise phrasing, skillfully playing with intensity levels. The quartet simmers in different geometries until reaching a climax.

Finally, Pierre begins with a nocturnal and mysterious tone (who is Pierre?). The saxophonist whispers, summoning diverse sounds; Almeida returns to the bow with surprising effects, and Govaert plays with astonishing sensitivity. Risser explores various techniques, bringing a palette of harmonic elements that establish multiple levels of articulation with the other instruments. The saxophonist flares up and exits, leaving the piano-double bass-drums trio to boil over; upon reentering, he delivers a soberly majestic discourse, stretching the energy levels to their limit before everything dissolves into silence.

La Grande Crue has the rare ability to genuinely challenge us, to shift our understanding of what music should be, and to change the way we relate to the other side—the creative side of what we hear. It makes us, on this side, active participants in the creative process. And thus, flooded by beauty, it reconciles us with the world.

CAMILA NEBBIA, LEO GENOVESE & ALFRED VOGEL

Eyes to the Sun (Boomslang Records, 2024)

25

Noviembre, 2024

 Texto: Ricky Lavado

Fotos: Concesión de los artistas

Alfred Vogel no para quieto. El austríaco lleva décadas dinamitando los cimientos del jazz vanguardista más heterodoxo, como batería excepcional y como motor y cerebro de Boomslang Records, sello inclasificable donde los haya y refugio de artistas poco dados a transitar caminos artísticos convencionales. En esta ocasión, su constante actividad colaborativa le ha llevado a sumar fuerzas con la brillante saxofonista, compositora y artista visual bonaerense Camila Nebbia. Los caminos de ambos ya se habían cruzado previamente compartiendo escenario, pero en esta ocasión su más que evidente compenetración artística queda plasmada en una sesión de grabación, completando la aventura con la incorporación de Leo Genovese. El pianista (y en esta ocasión también saxofonista) argentino es un veterano de sobra conocido en el universo del jazz contemporáneo, principalmente por sus colaboraciones con gente como Wayne Shorter, Joe Lovano, Jack DeJohnette o Esperanza Spalding; e incluso ha llegado a grabar, fuera del terreno del jazz, con los mismísimos The Mars Volta.

Si hubiera que establecer algún mínimo común denominador entre Leo Genovese, Camila Nebbia y Alfred Vogel sería quizás el del carácter escurridizo e inclasificable de su concepción de la música improvisada y libre, y Eyes to the Sun da buena cuenta de ello: un disco grabado, mezclado y masterizado en un sólo día en Buenos Aires; sin ensayos previos, sin rumbos trazados ni intenciones claras. El único plan: capturar una sesión de pura improvisación entre tres figuras difíciles de clasificar. El resultado, evidentemente, está a años luz del convencionalismo. Eyes to the sun es una tormenta de música desestructurada, ruidista y fragmentada, con el único objetivo de buscar en todo momento las posibilidades expresivas más extremas de la interacción entre pocos elementos. No hay respiro ni momentos para la calma, los más de cuarenta minutos (divididos en cuatro piezas, la más corta de las cuales supera los ocho minutos) que dura este disco dan forma a una neblina de notas inquietantes, ráfagas percusivas angulosas y furiosas, asonancias constantes y un caos general que roza la cacofonía. Salvo brevísimos momentos en los que la sutileza y el minimalismo le dan un tono más atmosférico o ambiental a la grabación (como en la misteriosa introducción de “Gint”), cada instrumento sigue su propio camino de desorden y estridencia, formando un collage sonoro caótico, arisco, cortante como una cuchilla de afeitar y, en muchos momentos y según esté de ánimo el oyente, exigente hasta el extremo. Conceptualmente, Eyes to the sun podría emparentarse con según qué experimentos de Merzbow, o con las vertientes más rudas de la Música Concreta, mientras que su sonido orgánico y acústico nos remite inevitablemente al free jazz más extremo.

Pese a que que han pasado ya muchas décadas desde que la Música Aleatoria de John Cage o, yendo aún más atrás en el tiempo, el propio Stockhausen, resultara rompedora (lo mismo ocurre con los viajes espaciales de Sun Ra o con las grabaciones seminales de Ornette Coleman o Albert Ayler),  Eyes to the sun no se limita al ejercicio de estilo únicamente; pese a ser un disco en el que prima principalmente la estética, se trata de un trabajo que busca alcanzar una sonoridad concreta y explotarla hasta el extremo, y eso en sí mismo es interesante aunque sólo sea por desubrir cómo de lejos pueden llegar tres mentes tan heterodoxas como las de Nebbia, Genovese y Vogel cuando se ponen a trabajar juntas. Como ejercicio de tensión (y resistencia por parte del oyente), Eyes to the Sun funciona a la perfección.