The 8-piece Brass Funkeys might draw on the traditions of New Orleans marching bands, but the group, which formed in 2011, is based in London and takes much of its inspiration from contemporary musics. This combination of second line, R&B, hip-hop and the rest is enticing: Rabble Rouser is a fine collection of originals and covers delivered with enthusiasm and musical skill—there's plenty of brass and lots of funk, too.
From the first warm, fruity notes on "Goblins," (written by guest trumpeter Jack Banjo Courtney) it's clear that this is going to be a fun-filled, groove-laden bunch of tunes. The mix of wind instruments—trumpets, trombones, a sax and a sousaphone—ensures there's depth and richness to the ensemble's sound while Chris Brice's percussion and Scott Jowett's drums give added power and broaden the sonic palette. Adding the players' obvious enthusiasm into the mix ensures that this is a listener-and dancer-friendly set.
The band's original tunes, contributed by six of its members, are varied but never lose the Funkeys' trademark positivity and good vibes. Rob Smith's splendidly-titled "David Battenberg's Life Of Cakes" is a punchy number with an irresistible groove. "Le Sable," written by Rob Slater, is a seductive late-night number, for those times when dancing cheek-to- cheek is the only way for two people to remain upright. Trombonist Vij Prakash's "Pacha Mama" melds brass band and blues— laid-back, cool, with bursts of fiery sax and trumpet. Matt Letts' "Clave Maria" nods its hat to old-school Cuban dancehalls, Tom Green's "Dynamo Blues" does the same to classic jazz big bands.
The Brass Funkeys' performances of the four covers all impress. There's a tight, driving, take on Gorillaz' "Dirty Harry"—arranged by Chris Saunders and featuring a vocal chorus from the gentlemen of the orchestra. "Honeydripper" is slow and slinky, underpinned by big, fat, bass notes. Tune-Yards' "Bizness" features Dave Robinson's sax over fine percussion grooves from Brice and Jowett. "Zambezi"—a UK hit in 1982 for The Piranhas—is taken at a fast clip: fun, cheery, but perhaps only the fittest should consider it dance-friendly. On this hugely enjoyable evidence, the Brass Funkeys should be able to rouse any rabble.
Rez Abbasi was born in Karachi, Pakistan but at the age of four his family moved to Los Angeles and at eleven he started learning guitar. Whilst there are undoubtedly some South Asian influences in his compositions, these are generally incidental or to be found "under the radar" as Abbasi himself puts it. In any case the music surely transcends geographical boundaries. With a brace of ten albums to his name, this is Abbasi's follow-up to 2016's Behind The Vibration but is also the third in a trilogy he started to record with his group Invocation in 2008.
The opener "Propensity" does admittedly display some passing South Asian influences in its opening statement, and hot on the heels of Rudresh Mahanthappa's frenetic alto solo, Abassi solos with breathtaking glissando runs. The title track, augmented by Elizabeth Mikhael on cello, is perhaps the nearest this album gets to the generally perceived notion of chamber jazz, but even here it defies that generic description. The album was actually commissioned by Chamber Music America and the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation. Suffice it to say both organizations got their money's worth and more besides.
The short "Thoughts" constitutes a solo pyrotechnic display from Abbasi, his guitar notably enhanced by synth-like electronic effects. "Thin-King" has a mesmeric off-kilter rhythm which propels the piece along and a keen pizzicato bass solo from Johannes Weidenmueller. "Turn Of Events" the longest track on the album at nearly twelve minutes, subtly builds the tension, embellished by legato cello notes, achieving a release with a cascade of notes, only to die down to its pastoral opening and finally resolving in a short ensemble coda. The frenetic paced "Disagree To Agree" benefits from a fine staccato piano solo from Vijay Iyer and Mahanthappa and Abbasi compete in the coruscating stakes, making it compulsive listening as the guitarist takes his instrument to new places ripe for exploration.
The closer, "Dance Number" begins with a vaguely Eastern head but rapidly transmutes into a groove-laden piece dominated by Abbasi's strident and fluid guitar and subsequently by Mahanthappa's florid alto and Iyer's lustrous piano. An imaginative composer and guitarist of considerable virtuosity, plus an ensemble of immense talent, are all factors that make this high calibre album, imbued with unfettered vigour and intrigue, a most satisfying affair.
Interview with Mehdi Nabti : about the crosses between moroccan trance music (Aïssâwa) and jazz music
Mehdi Nabti is a french-canadian saxophonist, composer, autor and researcher in anthropology. In this meeting, he interacts with a moroccan musician about his compositions and their relationship with the moroccan folklore. The two interlocutors discuss the convergence of two musical styles, Aïssâwa Sufi music and jazz (which have their African roots in common), the problem of mixing musical styles, attempts at hybridization and the challenges of artistic renewal .
Maazif : You took classical music and later university studies in anthropology. Tell us about this adventure.
I was born in Paris and I lived in this city then in the Paris region. Since 2009 I live in Montreal. My family is from Kabylie, city of Bejaia, in Algeria. In France, I received a standard academic training: studies of classical guitar in conservatory from the age of 6 years, then classical saxophone and jazz from 15 years. I thank my parents for having given us a "bourgeois" education, even if we are from the working class. At the University of Paris 8, I followed a curriculum in multimedia communication (Maitrise in Sciences and Techniques) and a DEA in sociology. I then went to EHESS for my doctoral studies. I had my phd/doctorate in social anthropology in 2007 on the Sufi trance music of Aïssâwa. But when I was at the University I followed the teaching of jazzmen François Jeanneau (improvisation techniques) and Max Hedigger (jazz harmony). I deepened my knowledge with Philippe Sellam, Steve Coleman, Andy Emler and other more confidential musicians who encourage creativity and intellectual autonomy.
Maazif : After this rich and eventful journey, where is your artistic practice today ?
My artistic practice evolves with age and life. In the 1990s in France I played a lot of different music (funk, jazz, electro, house, percussion orchestras, Afro folklore, improvised music) and I created and directed from 2004 to 2008 a French-Moroccan jazz/world orchestra bringing together jazz musicians and Aissawa musicians from Fes in Morocco, Aissawaniyya. With this group, I gave masterclasses and recorded unpublished sessions (in Morocco, Spain and Paris). We have performed at various festivals in Europe, Africa and Canada. From 7 years I am in the intensive composition phase, I document my work and I regularly record albums that I sell directly to the public on digital platforms. That is my priority. I try to elaborate a contemporary improvised music which is part of the "Afro-Berber continuum", term of my invention. It is a matter of composing and improvising from techniques derived from ancient and medieval Berber and sub-Saharan traditions. I mean these elements :
Compound rhythms / adaptation of Sufi trance rhythms of the Maghreb (Aissawa and Hamadcha)
Afro-Berber and Andalusian melodic modes
Musical forms and structures resulting from the Maghreb Sufi trance rituals (Aissawa and Hamadcha)
Afro-Mediterranean non-musical techniques applied to music: geomancy, geometry
Musical evocation of the forgotten and unknown history of North and sub-Saharan Africa (ancient Berber mythology, historical figures, monuments, geographical spaces)
I incorporate in this Afro-Berber continuum ideas from various disciplines : philosophy, symmetry, epigraphy, but also heroic-fantasy and science fiction (especially uchronie and ideas borrowed directly to Isaac Asimov). I also write books and articles on North African culture and music. I have just published in France a book entitled « Présence arabe, berbère et nord-africaine au Québec. 55 ans de musiques plurielles (1962-2017) ».
Maazif : Between 2012 and 2016, you have released four albums, one album a year. You propose in most of your albums a hybrid production, a musical work influenced mainly by the Sufi music of the Maghreb on which you have studied and dedicated your doctoral thesis (« Les Aïssawa. Soufisme, musique et rituels de transe au Maroc »). Where do these influences manifest themselves?
Originally my motivation was to play a contemporary music that is an alternative to the North American cultural domination as well as the lascivious aesthetic coming from the Orient, the East. These various popular currents conceal the plurality of musical expressions of the Maghreb (North-Africa) which are extremely rhythmic, diversified and mixed. I was very surprised, noting and codifying folk music during my musical research in Morocco, to take up avant-garde musical techniques worthy of modern composers like Bartok or Messiaen: use of symmetry, irregular proportions, palindromes, complementary rhythms, polyrhythms, volume changes, accelerations, slowdowns, speed superimpositions, colors, tritonic substitutions, major modes played in minor modes, saturations, collages, questions / answers. These data are even more remarkable when we know that they are community music that is largely improvised, played in real time, collectively and without any scoring. By playing this type of music in its original cultural context, the notions of concentration, communication, quality of execution and cohesion between musicians make their sense. In short, a sophisticated musical vocabulary is still popular in some parts of the world but has completely disappeared from current commercial music. This still alive heritage is still absent from the institutional musical formations but knows how to make itself accessible to those who really take the trouble. To do this, you have to accept a traditional transmission of information: go out there, meet people, discuss, participate, share and spend time together in everyday life. It is towards the creative appropriation of these old unknown traditions that my approach tends.
Maazif : In recent years, there have been many attempts at "fusion" and "mixing" which often fall into "ease". What do you think of this "musical phenomenon" in light of your academic work and artistic experience?
First of all, we, the public, artists, journalists, politicians and broadcasters (festivals, etc.) all have a responsibility to deal with the situation of art and culture, which have become synonymous with commerce, industry and can not be envisaged outside. Many adopt the posture of the market by proposing what they imagine that the public wants, while defending themselves. The alienating and coercive power of the market breaks creativity and reduces the individual and the artist to the state of passive consumer and producer. It must be remembered more than ever that art and industry are two different things. Totally opposed.
Next, I think that the "facility" we are talking about here is related to the retromania phenomenon that has affected the entire world cultural sector since the early 2000s. The constant references to musical aesthetics of the past are too immediately identifiable by the listener, and even more by a music enthusiast. The dynamic of experimental creation is generally absent from the musical approaches of many musicians known as "fusion".
The overall impact of these different collages simply does not mean anything. Their symbolic, technical and aesthetic bearing is thus considerably diminished. Even though musicians can often be technically fantastic, I am tired of this approach. I always wonder why an artist seeks to put himself in such an environment nowadays where all music is accessible at home in a few clicks.
Moreover, the tendency of musicians to follow overwhelmingly the discoveries and breakthroughs of the stars of the milieu represents for me an inability to define themselves adequately by developing a methodology that emphasizes the individual character of their musical composition.
There is a consistency in approach that is shared by many musicians of our time which makes them difficult to identify. Certainly very competent, but desperately similar. I've heard amazingly accomplished musicians, but for me, most of them lack remarkable characteristics in style, interpretation approach, concept, logic, phrasing and voice, sound. I do not say that they are not good musicians, I say that there is not much difference between them. If only the musicians dig in the most unknown archives of music, in the techniques used in oral tradition traditions, in ancient epigraphs, in medieval manuscripts, etc., they would find an untapped reserve of technical resources that would separate them from the rest of the lot. I'm not talking about something very radical, maybe a personally developed technique, a conceptual approach, a way to develop ideas and phrases, a very personal sound, a juxtaposition of thoughts, and so on.
Maazif : Could we speak of a certain "relationship" between the music of the Aissawa and jazz, following the example of the rapprochement that some historians and ethnomusicologists make between the music of the Gnawa and the blues?
Jazz, both creative and individual music, aims at an ideal of self-fulfillment by focusing on collaboration, technical rigor and positive individualism. Historically, his teaching was done by oral tradition, that is, by imitation, listening and observation. I emphasize that jazz is originally a folklore of oral tradition played and elaborated by the lowest and marginalized social classes of American society. It was, say, a music of poor people. In fact, he shares some of his characteristics with music from this oral tradition in Africa, the Maghreb or elsewhere: fraternal companionship, community repertoire, improvisations and the search for trance, transcendence. Unfortunately, contemporary jazz has lost many of these original elements to become a new bourgeois classical music without flavors. That is why I tried to get closer to the folk music of the Maghreb.
Concerning improvisation in jazz and Aissawa, we can find some common points. The first common point is the rhythmic improvisation of percussion instruments. The Aïssâwa are called "embroidery" (zwaq) on a "mother" rhythm (achiyya). The second common point is the melodic improvisation that the singers perform during the 'mowals' (uncapped improvisation a cappela). Finally, the players of oboe (reta) improvise also, between two codified melodies, instrumental melodies on the grooves of percussion. This is called simera. If the player of reta plays alone without any accompaniment, this is called ramadan. In all cases, these are improvisations codified in a given aesthetic. This can come close to the original jazz like dixieland or swing, but certainly not free jazz.
Maazif : How then can you evoke the "universal" character of these musics strongly marked by improvisational techniques in the face of an overwhelming musical, instrumental and technological technicality?
The universal character is found in improvisation and in the collective playing, because all the traditional musics practice them and put them in scene. These are fundamental characteristics that allow music to be renewed. At the philosophical level, the universal character of these musics comes from their creative, evolutionary, adaptive aspect. These are musics that evolve, which are alive. And they must remain so and not become nostalgic and retro-vintage music. This fashion is a scourge for creativity and encloses music in a fantasy museum. Creativity comes from within, it does not obey any rules other than those of her innermost desire and feelings. To be creative is not to play something because it is fashionable, because you are told that this is the way to succeed and make money, but to trust and to go to the end of his own expression. It also means not shutting oneself up in a style that one would make one's own once and for all. On the contrary, he is constantly listening to his intimate evolutions, his metamorphoses, and trying to account for them in his music. That's why I do not believe that there are styles inherently more creative than others, folklore and traditional music can be creative. It is the musicians who simply have to give themselves the means to express what they have deep within themselves. Being oneself is an increasingly difficult challenge in our normative societies that insidiously push you to conform to the tastes of others, to align yourself with the law of the greatest number, simply to have the chance to survive. In this context, it is a struggle of every moment to retain its creativity and to persist in being oneself. Moreover, all music has its own technical difficulties to perform, but the audience does not have to know it, it does not matter. The Artist's work is to convince him and not to seduce him.
Maazif : And to finish, do you conceive of a certain musical "coexistence/reconciliation" between the so-called traditional music and the so-called modern techniques?
Music does not exist independently of the people who make it. The coexistence of music must therefore be approached from the point of view of social ties, human relations between people and generational transmission. Music is linked to our singularities as human beings, to our philosophical, aesthetic, political choices. The answer to this question seems broadly cultural. Artists who can collaborate spontaneously, whether they be "traditional" or "modern" musicians, must have in common that they were born at about the same time in the same country, sharing common ideas about the state of society and music and, above all, having similar cultural references rooted in their experiences. They must share a common vision of the world. No matter in which musical aesthetics each one expresses himself, the aim will be to make a music that most faithfully reflects their tastes, their desires, their anger, their traditions, their collective history. This is how the meeting of music takes place. In this context we mean both the individual expression of the musicians but also the whole cultural environment in which they live, which nourishes them, influences them and serves as a substratum for their art. And each music is the product of a given milieu, of a cultural space, at a precise moment in history. On the other hand, some artists possess a double or even a triple culture which allows them to collaborate with artists from different regions of the world because they possess influences and common references although they are not of the same generation . All this common culture will enable them to collaborate in the creation of a new music, to relate their respective languages in order to find common territories where the exchange could take place. There are many musicians everywhere who create music at the crossroads of these different worlds, epochs, influences. Unfortunately the majority of the media of all stripes, but also the festivals, became the places of the submission to the show-business, the popular song and the offers pastiste. But it is in the margins, slowly and surely, that the sound of today and tomorrow is create.
There are any number of valid ways to describe Vijay Iyer's music over the course of his twenty-three albums. Analytical, angular, intricate, dissonant, and oddly lyrical; his two previous ECM releases, Break Stuff (2015) and the duo outing, A Cosmic Rhythm With Each Stroke, with Wadada Leo Smith (2016), have been more widely accessible without forsaking complexity. Not merely an academic, Iyer is a perpetual student, absorbing information and disseminating his aggregate knowledge in new and inventive ways. On Far From Over, there is an overall level of energetic enthusiasm played out in funk, swing, hard bop, and the avant-garde, all with Iyer's idiosyncratic approach and often surprising in pure elation.
Bassist Stephan Crump and the ubiquitous Tyshawn Sorey are a regular rhythm section for Iyer; Sorey occasionally trading off with Iyer's other drummer of choice, Marcus Gilmore. The sextet fills out with a stellar horn section; Graham Haynes on cornet, flugelhorn and electronics, the eclectic alto saxophonist Steve Lehman and Mark Shim on tenor saxophone add much of the punch on this album.
"Poles" opens with Iyer's delicately cascading notes before the horns explode and take over. The piece rises to a fevered pitch and then descends on Haynes beautifully rounded flugelhorn. Iyer takes a more active role on the title track where the horns again engage in thorny interplay, setting up a boisterous solo for piano. When Haynes, Lehman and Shim rejoin, the effect is dramatic. "Nope" is more abstract with short bursts of soloing in close proximity, making for an attention-grabbing interlocking of sounds that would be very much at home on a Lehman recording. The brief "End of the Tunnel" is electric, mysterious and a fine lead-in to "Down To The Wire" with Iyer's bewilderingly fast playing stitching together the late arriving horns and pulling up just short of a free-for-all. Far From Over has its more reflective moments as well, "Wake" being other-worldly and "For Amiri Baraka" and "Threnody" affecting lamentations driven by Iyer's piano.
Despite the caliber of musicians on Far From Over, this very much a group album, steeped in spontaneous improvisation. Iyer explains his methodology as looking to ..."build from the rhythm first, from the identity of the groove...." In doing so, there are often textural designs taking shape and dissolving at close intervals, making the listening experience something like watching an abstract painter work on canvas. The complexity of it all can make subsequent listening experiences seem to shift their emphasis. As always in Iyer's work, there is a lot going on and it's all intensely engaging.
After his 2015 masterpiece, Synovial Joints, alto saxophonist/composer Steve Coleman left his listeners wondering how he could try to top that extraordinary project. With 21 musicians and an ambitious melding of classical and jazz instrumentation with intricate compositional decisions, Coleman used that record to reveal yet another dimension of his constantly-evolving musical concept—one that's been changing shape for over thirty years now. In some ways, Morphogenesis continues that project: although this is a smaller nine-piece ensemble, almost all of these musicians worked with Coleman on Synovial Joints, and there's a similar emphasis on the kind of instrumentation that opens up classically-influenced structural possibilities: most particularly, the presence of Kristin Lee on violin and Rane Moore on clarinet. Not only that, but with thematic inspiration from the world of boxing (as evidenced by song titles such as "Shoulder Roll," "Dancing and Jabbing," and "Inside Game"), Coleman continues to invoke metaphors linked to human physicality, just as he did with his anatomical references on the previous record.
But at the same time, it's also clear that this is a very different album. Most noticeably, there's almost no percussion on the record—something that will certainly surprise longtime Coleman fans, as there are few musicians who've done more over the years to highlight the work of truly first-rate drummers, a list that includes Marvin "Smitty" Smith, Jeff “Tain” Watts, Sean Rickman and Marcus Gilmore. The undeniable rhythmic power at the heart of Coleman's music has been channeled and enhanced in no small part due to the presence of drums in his music; yet here there's no "drummer" to speak of, and classical percussionist Neeraj Mehta is used very sparingly on only five of the nine tracks. While this still remains a rhythmically potent album—indeed, it's hard to imagine Coleman making any music lacking a fundamental rhythmic component—that element is now created mainly through the razor-sharp bass work of Greg Chudzik and the ensemble writing itself, which contains Coleman's trademark syncopated phrasing and myriad overlapping lines, which work to give the music its momentum and sense of forward thrust, even without the presence of a drum kit. The result is remarkably dense and sophisticated music, as one expects from Coleman, but it requires more of the listener to grapple with it. That toe-tapping accessibility that characterizes even the most esoteric of Coleman's earlier creations is less prominent here.
Even so, there's some remarkable music to be had on this record. But first, suspend expectations of easily-recognized themes: Coleman's approach instead involves the seemingly endless interweaving of phrases, sometimes played in unison and sometimes in counterpoint, using the entire palette of his ensemble. Don't count on a lot of extravagant soloing either, as Coleman is much more interested in drawing out the different textures and dynamic possibilities these instruments can create while in conversation with each other. It's the group dynamic as a whole that really takes center stage here, as each piece evolves through the mutual interactions of all the musicians. Take as an example the 14-minute centerpiece of the record, "Morphing," a hypnotic accrual of clipped phrases that gradually extend and alter their shape as they're played by various sub-groupings of the larger ensemble, eventually leading to ever-more-complex permutations and syncopated interjections as the piece builds to its thrilling culmination.
Other tracks worthy of note include "Pull Counter," where Coleman's alto hints at Charlie Parker's legacy through a bebop-flavored track that even adds an element of swing, thanks in part to Chudzik's walking bass line and pianist Matt Mitchell's Monk-like jabs; the soulful-sounding "Roll Under and Angles," where Jen Shyu's vocals and Jonathan Finlayson's trumpet tease out a lyrical dimension; and the last two pieces, the suitably-titled "Dancing and Jabbing" and "Horda," both of which offer the characteristic rhythmic suppleness of Coleman's classic work, wherein the music can captivate both the mind and the body in equal measure.
It may not quite reach the level of Coleman's finest music, and some listeners may have a hard time getting past the limited percussion—but any Coleman release is well worth careful attention and patient engagement, and this one's no exception.
Many jazz musicians have mined the music of other cultures and countries for new ideas. Many of the most successful combinations have come from importing the music of warmer climates—Afro-Cuban and bossa nova to name but two.
Monty Alexander has always done the reverse: a native of Jamaica who played straight-ahead jazz in the States for decades, he has always included some music of his native country in his book. However, for his new group he has gone a step further. The Harlem-Kingston Express (evoking not only the combination of the two cities but also the high-powered excitement the band brings to the stage) is essentially two groups in one: a jazz group and a reggae group, with Alexander straddling the two on piano. Each plays more or less purely in their own genre, but with Alexander the common thread that holds them together. Alexander begins playing a tune with one band, switching to the other group mid-song. Or he might play with one or the other exclusively, or he might play with everyone at the same time. The end result is a set of deeply groovy tunes that work so well together that it would be pointless to determine out what's jazz and what's reggae. This live album, recorded in 2010 at Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola at Jazz at the Lincoln Center (and a few other numbers from past performances overseas), captures the group's excitement.
The end result is also supremely joyful music (as could be expected given the sources) and an absolute joy to the ear. Alexander can swing Oscar Peterson-style on "Sweet Georgia Brown" with the jazz combo then seamlessly switching to the deep reggae grooves of "Freddie Freeloader (Riddim)" making it seem like little more than a tempo change or a bridge. The straight-ahead jazz numbers swing like mad, and the reggae group has the deeply rhythmic groove of percussion and bass that the music requires—no disappointment on either front. There is a wealth of interesting compositions courtesy of the pianist as well, from "Strawberry Hill" to "Eleuthera," beautiful haunting melodies that he works through with both groups. Alexander, ever the entertainer, finishes off the concert with "Day-O," complete with crowd participation and a melodica solo.
Reggae has been such a popular music for so long it's surprising that more jazz musicians haven't recognized its potential as a vehicle for improvisation. It's certainly possible to swing almost any song—Alexander ends the album with a version of Bob Marley's "No Woman, No Cry" done with his jazz group—but it's difficult to merge two genres while keeping the best parts and still remaining faithful. The Harlem-Kingston Express does just that, and Alexander it to be credited with creating a terrific fusion of genres.
You could call this a ‘Tale of Two Cities,’ but also a ‘Tale of Two Bands’ and a ‘Tale of Originals Vs. Covers.’ Jazz guitar extraordinaire Kevin Eubanks decided to present the dualities in his musical life for his latest Mack Avenue Records release, East West Time Line (dropping on April 7, 2017).
Having spent his young adult life in NYC and hanging out in L.A. since then, Eubanks made a record that’s half in the Big Apple and half in the Los Angeles, the first half utilizing the talents of New York-based musicians and the latter played by California guys. And in a final twist, the New York band plays Eubanks originals while the West Coast dates are all about covers and standards.
Starting on the East Coast, the backing band is to say the least, impressive: Nicholas Payton on trumpet, Dave Holland on bass and Jeff “Tain” Watts on drums. “Time Line” swings with a capital “S” and with that all-world rhythm section, how could it not? But Eubanks pushes out the swing into the stratosphere with his rhythmically charged solo that includes gobs of chords and octaves. It’s a tough act to follow but Payton is to the task, putting out the fire with a cool, easygoing and pure-toned trumpet.
“Watercolors” finds Eubanks’ switching to acoustic guitar and a lyrical melody with a soft gait makes this appealing in a different way. Payton’s alternately piercing and emotive trumpet steals the show. “Poet” (video above) is an appropriate name for a tone poem, and Eubanks caresses it with a warm tone and tender, note-bending delivery. Joining Holland and Watts is pianist Orrin Evans but it’s his Rhodes that drops splotches of color on the song. And in a microcosm of the album itself, the song assumes a different character in middle when Eubanks goes from electric to nylon string guitar and Evans leaves his electric piano behind for an acoustic one. The beauty of the melody remains even after it’s recast.
“Carnival” again features Eubanks’ nylon string work, working hand-in-glove with Evans’ piano but the real hero here is Watts, whose dynamic rhythms pushes everything forward with controlled energy (especially during the spot when it’s just him and the soloing Holland). “Something About Nothing” stretches out in modal fashion, and with Evans on Rhodes alongside Eubanks on electric guitar and Payton’s provocative horn, this is a bit in the spirit of Bitches Brew, something about which Holland knows first-hand.
What’s immediately evident from the Left Coast recordings is the Latin influence brought on board by Mino Cinelu’s percussion. Joined by Bill Pierce (sax), Rene Camacho (bass) and Eubanks’ old Berklee mate Marvin “Smitty” Smith, this crew immediately gets to work on making other people’s songs their own. Cinelu’s cha-cha rhythm sets a loose and festive pace for Duke Ellington’s “Take The Coltrane” and the group is content to let that groove become the track’s dominant force. That includes Eubanks, who seems to be having a ball jamming judiciously in the pocket.
Eubanks returns to acoustic guitar for Chick Corea’s “Captain Señor Mouse” but with metal strings time, and his solo on this one is stupendous. The electric solo one he offers on his uncle’s song, Ray Bryant’s “Cubano Chant” is not bad, either. Pierce is given a bright spotlight here and puts in an invigorating turn on soprano sax. His soprano sax also serves as the familiar opening statement on Marvin Gaye’s “What Goin’ On,” a theme Pierce revisits later. But most of this rendition involves a rapid, finder-snapping swing and Eubanks adeptly handling the lyrical part through octaves.
Lastly, “My One And Only Love” is given a treatment that most closely resembles the traditional way it’s treated, that of a tender ballad. Pierce’s tenor sax is luscious and Eubanks’ electric guitar is willowy and full of soul.
For an artist whose career has comfortably crossed — and sometimes blurred — the lines between traditional and contemporary, inside and outside and self-penned music versus interpretations, East West Time Line isn’t some diversion from normalcy. This is who Kevin Eubanks has always been as a musician.
