Sabu Toyozumi with Peter Brötzmann, Toshinori Kondo and Derek Bailey

 

By Kenneth Blanchard

 Peter Brötzmann, Toshinori Kondo and Sabu Toyozumi - Complete Link (No Business, 2024) 

This album was recorded live in 2016. Released this year, it is a nice addition to legacy of Brötzmann and Kondo, and stands on its own as a document of a fierce trio. “To the Nature from the Heat,” opens with Brötzmann channeling Albert Ayler over Toyozumi’s drums. For about three minutes we get this steady, ghostly wail, before it turns into the more frenetic, metal scouring sound that was the sax man’s signature. Kondo’s trumpet sounds more like some kind of synthesizer than actual brass. Toward its end, the pace slows down considerably, becoming almost romantic. Kondo’s sound acquires an expansive, large space sound as if the energy of the trio had force the walls out and the ceiling up. The second cut, “First Monorail” is almost fifty minutes long. It has a slightly remote sound, as if the recorder were just outside the room. We hear the range of Kondo’s electrified horn. There is a marvelous line I can only describe as someone blowing up a balloon while firing a ray gun. As it passes the sound thickens and bubbles into something more like a full orchestra. Brötzmann continues his Ayler style moan until the end, when he and Kondo circle each other like tired bulls. Complete Link is a testament to the connections between body, mind, and spirit that are the focus of meditative Buddhism. 

NEW FROM NO BUSINESS…Derek Bailey/Sabu Toyozumi: Breath Awareness

Guitarist Derek Bailey teams with drummer Sabu Toyozumi for a 1987 gig in Japan. The four songs contain two marathon pieces, a 27 minute free from drum avalanche of “Fukuoka IMA House” and the guitar picking and strumming abstraction of “My Jimmy”. Asian harmonies are bent and picked on Bailey’s solo “Diaphragm” and his guitar twangs over the rumble of “Relux or Not Talking”. Thunder and lightning.Guitarist Derek Bailey teams with drummer Sabu Toyozumi for a 1987 gig in Japan. The four songs contain two marathon pieces, a 27 minute free from drum avalanche of “Fukuoka IMA House” and the guitar picking and strumming abstraction of “My Jimmy”. Asian harmonies are bent and picked on Bailey’s solo “Diaphragm” and his guitar twangs over the rumble of “Relux or Not Talking”. Thunder and lightning.

Peter Brotzman/Toshinori Kondo/Sabu Toyozumi: Complete Link

Playing Tenor sax and tarogato, Peter Brotzman joins with Toshinori Kono ontrumpet and electronics as well as drummer Sabu Toyozumi for three free improves. Brotzman goes in to subtones on “Memories of WUPPERTAL” while shrill in the upper stratosphere on the flailing “To The Nature from the Heat”. Kondo adds high  pitched trumpet and electronics to the wailing and flailing marathon of “First Monorail”, with all of the wise passengers jumping off before the final crash. A missing link.

Kim Dae Hwan / Choi Sun Bae: Korean Fantasy

By John Sharpe
August 12, 2024
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Kim Dae Hwan を聴く Amazon Music (広告)

Korean Fantasy offers another fascinating insight into how free improvisation and jazz have flourished across the globe. This 1999 live date brings together percussionist Kim Dae Hwan and trumpeter Choi Sun Bae, two of the few practitioners in the East Asian country active on the adventurous scene at this time, although it was recorded in nearby Japan.

As part of its arrangement with the Japanese independent label Chap Chap Records, the Lithuanian NoBusiness imprint has issued the archival recording as part of an ongoing series including other equally captivating sessions featuring the pair. Both appear as part of a quartet on Arirang Fantasy (2018), and as part of a trio on Seido-Seishin (2023), while Bae also features in a further trio on Kami Fusen (2017).

The twosome joins in three extemporized duets. The first, the half-hour plus "FM-1," sets the stage for their interaction, although Bae introduces the piece alone. The trumpeter's engaging style, alternating minor key melody with extreme textures, lures in the unsuspecting listener. For the remainder of the cut, Bae enlists electronics to alter the sound of his horn. Nonetheless, the rapport between him and Hwan is obvious in the ensuing dialogue, which proceeds in a sequence of flurried retorts and rhythmic phrases. While Bae initially maintains the dichotomy between form and abstraction established by his intro, the circuitry gradually becomes more prominent in the swirling smears and echoing reverb.

Unlike in other situations, Hwan uses a jazz trap set rather than his customary array of percussive devices. Although he does not avail himself of the kick drum, he revels in crisp intricate hi-hat patterns that supplement an earthy drum throb though rarely with any hint of swing. But the pair's inclusive approach allows exceptions, as when Bae wields a harmonica for a bluesy interlude and Hwan responds with a burst of syncopation. Later the trumpet sketches what might be a standard ("My Funny Valentine" comes to mind), which morphs into the sort of pentatonic air that vaguely recalls a Scottish folk tune but might by the same token hark back to Korean tradition, before the piece ends as it began, in satisfying symmetry, with solo trumpet.

The final two tracks sustain the receptive give and take, though perhaps affording more space to Hwan's bombastic tattoo. They reveal a practice which still occasionally references the American playbook, but which increasingly looks inward for inspiration, and finds much there to sustain itself.

Peter Brötzmann / Toshinori Kondo / Sabu Toyozumi: Complete Link

By Mark Corroto
August 5, 2024
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Peter Brötzmann… を聴く Amazon Music (広告)

As the liner notes to Complete Link by Yoshiaki Kinno state, "In the 1960s, each of them [saxophonist Peter Brötzmann, trumpeter Toshinori Kondo and drummer Sabu Toyozumi] was inspired by free jazz, practiced it themselves and met each other in the process of overcoming free jazz." That is indeed a bold statement. Did he mean to say they gained mastery of it? Defeated it? Or is he suggesting the three evolved apart from free jazz?

Most likely Kinno was referring to the commendation "beyond category" Duke Ellington utilized to describe an artist or performance of the highest quality. Certainly, the trio of Brötzmann, Kondo and Toyozumi fits Duke's designation.

Although the three artists had performed together in 2014, this live recording at Roppongi Super Deluxe in Tokyo on October 2, 2016, is the first documentation of this special trio. Brötzmann and Toyozumi worked together during the saxophonist's tour of Japan in the 1980s, recording with Derek Bailey and as a duo with the previous release Triangle -Live At OHM, 1987 (NoBusiness, 2024). The saxophonist and Kondo had previously toured with the ICP Orchestra, and recorded with the saxophonist's Chicago Tentet and Clarinet Project, also with William Parker and Hamid Drake as the Die Like A Dog Quartet.

This beyond-category is post-free jazz. It could also be described as a punk-rock-blues experience and fourth-world music. Brötzmann switches between tenor saxophone and tarogato, plus Kondo favors live electronic processing of his trumpet here. The sound can be dynamite, but it can also float not unlike Jon Hassell's electronic waves. Kondo's processed trumpet might have its roots in Miles Davis' electric wah-wah pedal attack, but it sounds more like a synthesizer than a brass instrument here. Amplified, Kondo is capable of matching volume and energy of both Brötzmann and Toyozumi's ferocity. The epic length of "First Monorail" (47:45) flows from thunderous hot magma to meditative musings, mixing bombast with the spacey hushed peacefulness of the blues. Overcome free jazz? This music more like epitomizes the best of free jazz.

Derek Bailey, Sabu Toyozumi: Breath Awareness

By Mark Corroto
July 15, 2024
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Derek Bailey を聴く Amazon Music (広告)

Guitarist Derek Bailey never compromised his approach to music, but was he influenced and his sound affected by set, setting, and playing partners? Those new to Bailey's working method may posit his approach was inflexible and unaccommodating, while long-time listeners can identify how a playing partner can affect the guitarist's sound.

With the force of nature that is Derek Bailey, the greatest influences on his sound were certainly drummers and percussionists. Bailey performed with the likes of Cyro Baptista, Han Bennink, Susie Ibarra, Andrea Centazzo, Eddie Prevost, Gregg Bendian, Louis Moholo-Moholo, Tony Oxley, and John Stevens, not to mention his later fascination with drum'n'bass (180 bpm) and his collaboration with D.J. Ninj.

During Bailey's 1987 tour of Japan, he performed solo, also with saxophonist Mototeru Takagi, heard on Live At Far Out, Atsugi (NoBusiness, 2020). His collaboration with drummer Sabu Toyozumi is documented on the nearly impossible-to-find recording Live In Okayama 1987 (Improvised Company, 2000), a trio with Peter Brötzmann.

by Jean-Michel Van Schouwburg

Derek Bailey & Sabu Toyozumi Breath Awareness No Business Records
https://nobusinessrecords.bandcamp.com/album/breath-awareness

Fukuoka city 2 novembre 1987. Derek Bailey et Yoshisaburo « Sabu » Toyozumi sont en concert dans le club IMAI-tei. Sabu était alors devenu un compagnon de tournée habituel de nombreux improvisateurs européens et américains : Peter Brötzmann, Peter Kowald, Evan Parker, Misha Mengelberg, Fred Van Hove, Leo Smith, Joseph Jarman, Paul Rutherford, Fred Frith et même des duos avec Han Bennink et Sunny Murray. C’était un proche compagnon de Kaoru Abe, Motoharu Yoshizawa, Toshinori Kondo et Mototeru Takagi a qui il a survécu grâce à l’extraordinaire dynamisme de sa personnalité et une forme de sagesse spirituelle et physique. Il rencontra de manière improbable Coltrane et Mingus à Tokyo, joua régulièrement à Chicago avec Braxton, Leo Smith, Roscoe Mitchell et Joseph Jarman en qualité de membre de l’AACM (1971). Obsédé par les rythmes et curieux de voyages et d’africanéité, Sabu Toyozumi est une personnalité à la fois simple, fascinant et hors du commun. À cette époque, Derek Bailey est à un tournant. En février de cette année 1987, je l’avais personnellement invité à donner un concert solo à la guitare acoustique à Bruxelles. Je savais qu’il y avait des tensions entre Derek et son alter ego d’Incus, Evan Parker, mais j’ignorais alors que les deux musiciens amis allaient se séparer dans l’année qui suivait. Fin 1986 début 1987, Bailey avait peu de concerts et cette tournée Japonaise a dû lui être providentielle. Quelques années plus tard, Derek Bailey allait devenir incontournable sur la scène internationale : tournées aux USA et dans toute l’Europe, duos avec Cecil Taylor à Berlin, avec Braxton au Canada en 1988, Company devenait une véritable institution, de jeunes musiciens le sollicitaient, John Zorn, Pat Metheny , Bill Laswell , the Ruins Steve Noble, etc… Le plus important en ce qui nous concerne aujourd’hui lorsque nous avons cet album en main ou « downloadé » dans notre portable est que Derek Bailey est alors au sommet de son art. Il a déjà réalisé son grand œuvre, mis au point « son style » et enregistré ses meilleurs albums solos et ses duos fétiches et il ne lui reste plus qu’à improviser avec qui il rencontre. Le fait de se retrouver « sans gig » ou avec peu de concerts à un moment donné aiguise l’appétit. On le sait quoi qu’en dise Derek Bailey, lequel adorait titiller certains collègues à propos de leur cup of tea musicale, la présence à ses côtés d’un musicien dont la personnalité semble être aux antipodes de la sienne l’excitait musicalement, intellectuellement et « énergétiquement » au point que sa créativité, son sens de la déraison excentrique, son imagination à la guitare étaient décuplées. On sait que Bailey était un fervent de Webern, mais ne questionnez pas Sabu Toyozumi au sujet de ce compositeur. Le batteur m’a confié que jouer avec un pianiste (hors du commun) comme Fred Van Hove, c’était « trop » pour lui, c’est à dire "trop sérieux", trop intellectuel, savant, et peut-être pas assez fantaisiste. Mais avec Derek Bailey le courant passe très bien. Le guitariste John Russell, qui a joué très souvent avec Sabu et connaît Bailey comme sa poche, a déclaré à l’écoute de cet enregistrement qu’il « n’avait jamais entendu jouer Derek avec autant d’intensité ». Dans sa discographie, jusqu’alors, on ne l’avait pas entendu déverser autant d’électricité rageuse, torrentielle : sans doute utilisait-il un ampli « rock » contrairement à son amplification « custom made » Londonienne des années 80, quasi hi-fi. Mais revenons au début, Derek Bailey est friand de jouer avec des batteurs de haut vol, car ils aiguisent et lui font sublimer son extraordinaire précision rythmique : Han Bennink et le mystérieux Jamie Muir, avec qui il a développé son « premier style » bruitiste entre 1968 et 1972 au Little Theatre Club. Tous deux des improvisateurs excentriques, délirants et souvent farfelus. Bailey a aussi enregistré en duo avec John Stevens et Andrea Centazzo. Avec Sabu Toyozumi, il trouve sur son chemin un lutin bondissant d’une vitalité solaire, démultipliant les rythmes et pulsations, déclinant les frappes à toutes les fréquences et sous tous les angles, parfois rien qu’en entrechoquant deux baguettes, chahutant des rythmiques endiablées avec autant de joie de vivre et de jouer que de férocité démesurée, surtout en regard de sa petite taille, celle d’un enfant. Ses deux personnalités que tout semble opposer, la taille, la culture, la manière de parler, de vivre, les intérêts musicaux, etc… s'accordent par magie dans la fureur de l’instant. Le Japonais est un homme d’un seul tenant, gymnaste spirituel d’une candeur céleste avec de solides pieds sur terre, élevé dans une discipline zen sans concession, détaché des vanités de ce monde. L’autre un « intelligent pragmatique » habile à la négociation, personnalité complexe et changeante, théoricien de l'improvisation qui a le don de la formule pour raconter son histoire. La musique de Bailey semble cérébrale et la pratique de batterie de Sabu Toyozumi est imprégnée d’une africanité immédiate, expressionniste, à fleur de peau. Le contraste est total, mais ces deux-là s’inventent merveilleusement un terrain de jeu , des instants de rencontre, une connivence folle, démesurée et fuyante. Derek est ici fasciné par les facéties rythmiques et la furia ludique de ce minuscule lutin, sorte de divinité primitive aux huit bras magiques, coordonnés par une science aléatoire des croisements – empilements différentiels de rythmes à vitesses variables, en crescendo – decrescendo organiques tant en intensités qu’en cadences et qui peut se révéler follement agressif. Durant deux improvisations de 25 et 27 minutes, plus un rabiot de quatre minutes, Derek Bailey s’écarte sensiblement de la matière musicale de son style « en solo » pour « divaguer » et inventer en jouant avec la fée électricité, fouaillant ses cordes et râclant la touche de sa six cordes, toujours accordée au mili-poil. Il arrive même qu’ils semblent, à un moment complètement délirant, devenir excédés l’un par l’autre. La goguenardise baileyienne ressurgit, ce dont l’autre n’a cure, obnubilé par les rythmes comme la force de la nature qu’il incarne. Dois – je signaler au lecteur que malgré tout ce qu’a pu dire et écrire Derek Bailey au sujet de l’improvisation, il improvise surtout – seulement que lorsqu’il est confronté à un autre improvisateur et pas spécialement quand il joue « en solo » ? D’ailleurs, le morceau joué ici en solitaire par Bailey, alternant harmoniques ultra précises et notes, frettées ou non, en escaliers eschériens durant treize minutes est une sorte de démonstration très précise de son style propre, d’une logique étincelante et en fait une composition structurée d’une succession de motifs qui s’emboîtent et finissent par s’enrouler à toute vitesse avec une précision inhumaine. Alors qu’en compagnie de Sabu, le guitariste brouille spontanément les pistes, dérape plus qu’à son tour et surprend l’auditeur, même le connaisseur assidu. Dans sa musique enregistrée en solo (particulièrement ses albums Lot 74, Aïda et Notes, publiés par Incus), il est avant tout son propre compositeur. J’ai entendu des versions différentes publiées par la suite (en bonus ou inédits) dans une ou deux rééditions où on entend clairement que D.B. rejoue des séquences entières parfois à la note près. Et donc pour de nombreuses raisons, outre le fait qu’il s’agit d’un super album qui réunit deux improvisateurs essentiels, Breath Awareness est une belle surprise et peut / doit même être recommandé à ceux qui veulent découvrir ou réécouter ces deux artistes tant pour leur apport personnel en tant que batteur et guitariste que comme un témoignage convaincant de cette musique improvisée collective à laquelle ces deux personnalités ont dédié leurs vies.

   review by Nick Ostrum
  2024-03-04

Korean Fantasy captures long-time collaborators Kim Dae Hwan (percussion) and Choi Sun Bae (trumpet, harmonica) live in Japan in 1999. It begins with a trumpet solo, wherein Choi shows off his virtuosity, from strangled half-valves to lyrical stanzas to growling shouts. Then, Kim introduces his cymbals and serpentine rhythms, and Choi fades to, then tumbles back in from the background. This fore- and background orientation is likely a result of the position of mics while recording rather than an original intention. Still, it draws warranted attention to Hwan's drums. For this date, he abandoned his normal set-up of bukes (Korean barrel drums), rototom and cymbals, for a conventional jazz set. Yet, he maintains what the liner notes call his "one beat" style, which focuses on a sequence and overlap of pulses. In other words, this is hybridized drumming, a fusion of Korean, jazz and Kim's own unique, propulsive style. He keeps impeccable rhythm while adding copious clunk and clatter to keep things interesting. The duo format also gives both musicians considerable space for soloing and, in tandem, exploring their own corners without having to vie for space through volume. Although the music already reaches wide, a striking change takes place 20 minutes in, when Choi picks up the harmonica. This creates a strange, pied dynamic, as Choi focuses on some basic blues techniques and Hwan accepts the charge to lay down some infectious slanted rhythms. The duo seems to be digging into an African American bucolic tradition. Just as quickly as it is evoked it gets replaced by an airy passage of trumpet effects (something for which Choi was not previously known for), soon overlaying another driving passage of percussive clangor. Kim really seems to delight in the hollow, woodier sounds he coaxes. In spirit, this reminds me of a few other collaborations between drummers and, most often, reeds men, wherein the purpose seems to be to facilitate a wide-ranging conversation between the two improvisors and capture some of the excitement of live spontaneous improvisation: the failed pathways, the stumbles into more fruitful ones, those instances when everything aligns perfectly into a moment of bliss, the unvarnished dynamics too often polished in the studio, the emphasis on the moment and feeling rather than just the combination of notes, the jovial spirit that pushed musicians to dialog like this again and again. This is all here, and in abundance, and in a truly unique, even fantastic, coupling and style.

Live at No Somos Nada
FMR Records 649-1222

Bucher-Countryman-Hori
The Movement Radical
Chap Records CPCD-025

Although US alto saxophonist Rick Countryman is no Phileas Fogg, and he hasn’t travelled around the world in 80 days, at least musically he’s on board to play creative sounds in multiple countries. Now Philippines-based, Countryman who has frequently recorded with Sabu Toyozumi has in the past made discs with other Filipino, Japanese, Malaysian and European musicians. These notable disc continue the sequence.

Ironically both trio discs feature Swiss drummers. Live at No Somos Nada from Mexico City matches Countryman with expatriate percussionist Gabriel Lauber, who has worked with Frode Gjerstad. Bassist is local Itzam Cano, who has played with Marco Eneidi. The trio adopts the name Interstellar Nao. Meanwhile the saxophonist’s drum partner on The Movement Radical recorded in Kobe, is Swiss Christian Bucher, with whom he often works, and the bassist is Osaka-based Tetsuro Hori, busy in many creative music branches.

The Mexican date begins with an Aylerian squeal from Countryman and continues with original variants of Free Jazz at different tempos during  its six tracks. As the saxophonist creates long-lined reed projections with scoops and shrieks, Lauber counters with unmetered pops, press rolls and cymbal splashes and Cano alternating between solid string plucks and sul tasto slices. Most expositions are led by Countryman’s deconstructed tone vibrations, curlicue tonguing and prolonged altissimo squeals. However the drummer gets an extended showcase of bellicose clatters, rim pops and scattering rebounds on “No Somos Nada” that evolve in unison with super-speedy arco swipes and jagged reed bites. Cano’s moderated string scrapes as well as pizzicato pumps are similarly featured on “Pyramid Of The Moon” advancing alongside shaped air sax trills and drum paradiddles.

Demonstrating that creative music doesn’t have to evolve at jet-plane speeds, “Pyramid Of The Sun” is a defining track however. Tripartite unity, it’s completed with an unmistakable almost euphonious tone that reconstructs discursive saxophone from hesitant mid-range reed burbles to harsh thrusts and which  intersect with the drummer’s woody pops and thumps.

With one extra track and completely different partners on The Movement Radical, Countryman’s playing is even more adventurous. What’s reflected though is also ample space for the bassist’s and drummer’s sound  profiling. The responsive textures are at their zenith on “To See Through the Trees”. Press rolls and a horizontal bass pulse create distinctive responses to Countryman’s expressions that include repeated detours into doits, honks, tongue stop and snores achieving a distinctive reed rasp at the end. Bucher’s familiarity with the saxophonist’s timbral progress means that the two are comfortable expressing narratives that encompass free-form experimentation with some near-mainstream interludes.

“Intentions” and “First Bird” are two of the more vivid tracks. The latter begins with moderated sax trills that for a brief moment sound as if they could fit into conventional Jazz. That’s quickly undone with stop-time interlude wavering between renal growls and high-pitch squeaks and ending with widening multiphonics. Meanwhile cymbal shakes and bass thumps aptly position the development. “Intentions” also advances mid-range tone cultivation from Countryman. But again Morse-code-like tongue stops and flutters reconstitute the line, while chiming drum beats and bass string rumbles preserve the horizontal flow. Distinctly POMO, the rhythm section remains relaxed while the saxophonist keeps shrilling until the finale.

Despite changes in playing partners Countryman’s distinctive textural elaborations remain constant on both discs. He has found compatible fellow improvisers in the east and in the west. While no one knows where his next collaborations will take place and with whom, it’s expected high standards will be maintained.

–Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Live: 1. First Abduction 2. Second Abduction 3. Pyramid Of The Sun 4. Pyramid Of The Moon 5. No Somos Nada 6. Tres Salidas

Personnel: Live: Rick Countryman (alto saxophone); Itzam Cano (bass) and Gabriel Lauber (drums)

Track Listing: Movement: 1. Between the Three 2. Fluctuations 3. Glass Matrix 4. Intentions 5. First Bird 6. To See Through the Trees 7. Fragments of Tradition

Personnel: Movement: Rick Countryman (alto saxophone); Tetsuro Hori (bass) and Christian Bucher (drums)

Peter Brötzmann / Sabu Toyozumi - Triangle - Live at OHM, 1987 (NoBusiness, 2023)

 

 

By Martin Schray

The 1980s were a time of searching for Peter Brötzmann. After his legendary trio with Fred Van Hove and Han Bennink broke up in the mid 1970s, he tried new players (his promising trio with Harry Miller and Louis Moholo came to an abrupt end due to Miller’s unfortunate death in a car crash) and new large and small formations. What should remain a constant in his work were sax/drum duos - pure rhythm and sound. He started with his long-term partner Han Bennink in 1977 (Schwarzwaldfahrt and Ein halber Hund kann nicht pinkeln), then he released an album with Andrew Cyrille (Andrew Cyrille Meets Brötzmann In Berlin) in 1983. In the same year he turned to the Japanese scene (with which he was to remain connected for the rest of his life) and was playing with Sabu Toyozumi, at that time quite an established drummer in Japanese free jazz.

The attraction that Brötzmann obviously felt for this cultural clash quickly becomes clear on the recordings from 1987 that are presented here on NoBusiness’s newest gem. Toyozumi contrasts the quite typical Brötzmann style with dark tom sounds and military rhythms on the snare. His intoxicatingly thunderous rhythms are characterized by a powerful and rousing sound in which the player’s entire body seems to be put to use; one literally senses his roots in Japanese drumming traditions. The result is that Brötzmann’s playing is very lean in contrast to the force from the European duets of the 1970s. Still, he keeps over-blowing the notes, but only to intersperse almost tenderly twisted garlands shortly thereafter, which Toyozumi keeps trying to chop up, as in the opener “Spiral Column“. Brötzmann’s tenor winds its way out of these attacks here and counters Toyozumi’s rhythms directly. Anyone who believed at the time that no one could cope with Brötzmann’s aggressive playing as well as the great Dutchman, whose innate sense of rhythm is a match for the Wuppertal saxophonist’s rough tones at any tempo and volume, was taught better here. On this recording, too, one can hear how Brötzmann had to constantly reassure himself in the face of a new challenge from a new drummer, whose background is completely different from that of a Han Bennink, a Sven-Åke Johansson, a Louis Moholo or a Ronald Shannon Jackson. This can be seen especially in the pieces on which Brötzmann plays tenor, for example in “Yuh-ru Yuru“. Here, the trial of strength between Toyozumi and him results in a recourse to a few set pieces that he used again and again in his late work. In this track it’s the “Master of a Small House“ theme.

In the more restrained clarinet pieces, however, Brötzmann already shows his softer side and proves that he wanted both: the shattering of classical harmonic structures and the ballad, the blues, the graceful and the sincerely painful. From this tension emerged his tone, his voice, his sound, as the German critic Felix Klopotek said in his obituary of him. Especially in the interplay with Sabu Toyozumi this is clearly brought out.

 

 

Peter Brötzmann & Sabu Toyozumi Triangle Live at Ohm 1987 No Business NBCD 160
https://nobusinessrecords.bandcamp.com/album/triangle-live-at-ohm-1987

Peter Brötzmann vient de nous quitter il y a quelques semaines après une vie animée à la pointe du free jazz « improvisé » durant des décennies. Considéré longtemps par les critiques US et Français comme un obscur troisième couteau, ce n’est que vers le milieu des années 80 qu’il commence à faire des tournées aux USA, au Japon, mais aussi en Italie et en France où un critique, photographe et ami, Gérard Rouy, le soutenait ardemment dans Jazz Magazine. Et si un improvisateur free Européen ou Américain partait jouer au Japon, il y avait là un petit batteur dynamique, jovial et passionné avec qui faire une tournée mémorable de 10 à 12 concerts. Ils y ont tous passé à la tournée en compagnie de Yoshisaburo Toyozumi dit « Sabu » : Joseph Jarman, Leo Smith, Evan Parker, John Zorn, Fred Frith, Derek Bailey, Peter Brötzmann, Han Bennink (en duo ou en trio avec Brötzmann), Fred Van Hove, Misha Mengelberg, Peter Kowald, Tristan Honsinger, Paul Rutherford, John Russell , Mats Gustafsson et Sunny Murray… Quand Coltrane et son groupe d’alors arrive à Tokyo en 1966, le saxophoniste demande à assister à un concert dans un jazz-club et en fut enchanté. Le batteur ? C’est Sabu. Il tourne ensuite en Europe avec les Samouraï dans le circuit rock (Pink Floyd, Ten Years After, Free etc... au même programme). Notre petit batteur nippon fut sélectionné par Charles Mingus lui-même lors d’une audition pour un enregistrement studio face à quinze autres batteurs. J’en ai le CD ! Sabu arrive à Chicago en 1971, juste pour voir ce qui s’y passait. Intrigué, Joseph Jarman lui demande des conseils d’arts martiaux : « Tu fais quoi dans la vie ? » - « Batteur ! » - « Il y a là une batterie, joue ! ». Les jours suivants, le voilà batteur de l’Art Ensemble sans Bowie ! Sabu joue aussi avec Braxton, Leo Smith et George Lewis. Membre de l’AACM durant son séjour, ateliers avec Steve McCall et Don Moye. Vient en Europe avec Takashi Kako et séjourne à Paris où il enregistre avec Braxton, Boulou Ferré et Glenn Spearman. Racines africaines du Jazz ? En 1978, Sabu traverse seul l’Afrique à pied, en bus ou en bateau du Caire jusqu’à Accra au Ghana en traversant la Centrafrique. C’est autre chose que de revêtir un dashiki dans un campus. Il fut aussi le « secrétaire » du plus important flûtiste de shakuhashi du XXème siècle, Watazumi Dōso et l’accompagna à Paris où celui-ci fit scandale au Théâtre de la Ville. Ses potes au Japon : Kaoru Abe, Toshinori Kondo, Mototeru Takagi, Motoharu Yoshizawa, décédés tragiquement l’un après l’autre. Il est le dernier survivant de cette fratrie sulfureuse. C’est aussi le « plus normal » de la bande. Alors, à l’époque où Peter Brötzmann s’essaie en duo avec plusieurs batteurs (Han Bennink, toujours, Sven Ake Johansson, Andrew Cyrille, Milford Graves, Willy Kellers, …), le voici enfin s’époumonant en faisant hurler son anche, tournoyer ses sons brûlants, projeter cette sonorité brute et coupante, exploser la colonne d’air, ahaner et braire avec son taragot, par-dessus les roulements et pulsations sauvages de Yoshisaburo Toyozumi. Le batteur l’avait déjà entendu avec Han Bennink à l’époque rythmes de cirque et roulements de tambour à la prussienne, il lui sert ce qui devrait pouvoir plaire à son invité avec une belle énergie secouante. Et au fil des morceaux , notre Sabu national s’enhardit, déballe des pulsations afro-centrées et centrifuges en faisant rouler ses caisses qui semblent sursauter toutes seules. Immanquablement, sa frappe, ses roulements de talking drum (Afrique de l’Ouest) ses ostinatos souples multi rythmiques, la dynamique de son jeu, tout ce qu’il joue porte la marque « Sabu ». Et quelle lisibilité ! Cette rencontre inspire le saxophoniste qui donne (comme très souvent) le meilleur de lui-même avec le gros bon point qu’ils sont tous deux l’un pour l’autre : ça baigne , ça roule et ça détonne. Le sommet du concert : 7`/ Depth of Focus (14 :19), un superbe dialogue avec Brötz au taragot et 8/ Peter & Sabu’s Points (6:55), une belle embardée pour la fin au sax ténor et le batteur survolté. Pourquoi Brötzmann ? Sa démarche est centrée sur l’expression très personnelle de ses anges et ses démons avec un « expressionnisme » forcené et une puissance de souffle hors du commun, soumettant l’anche le bec et la colonne d’air à une pression gargantuesque, sauvage. Force harmoniques, cris et vociférations rendent son jeu au niveau des clés et des intervalles vraiment basiques , l’essentiel est projeté avec une énergie énorme où une relative tendresse s’insère à certains moments, quelques nuances sentimentales. C’est un lyrique tourmenté qui revendique secrètement, humblement, un statut d’autodidacte, créateur de son propre style « expressionniste abstrait ». P.B. ne s’embarrasse pas de modes savants, changements de tonalité, finasseries harmoniques (comme les Braxton, Lacy, « même » Evan Parker ou un John Butcher). Ni vraiment l’impro libre collective dans l’esprit du Spontaneous Music Ensemble, plutôt bon gros rouge (ou Chimay dans un verre 55 cl) que cup of tea British. Sans doute, Albert Ayler et Ornette Coleman l’ont sûrement influencé tout comme le mouvement Fluxus dont il fit partie. Cela dit, il a une grande admiration pour les artistes authentiques comme les précités et d’autres qui ont fait leurs preuves sur scène. Et nombre de « scientifiques » du saxophone (Urs Leimgruber, Evan Parker ou Dave Liebman) éprouvent une très grande admiration pour son travail. Car sa sonorité et son abattage sont uniques. Son message esthétique contient cette vérité : même si au départ vous n’êtes pas « fait » au niveau technique, conceptuel, oreille etc… pour devenir un « grand » musicien, lancez-vous, battez-vous, jetez-vous à l’eau, foncez, prenez votre courage à deux mains et avec de la foi, de l’énergie, vous pourrez un jour trouver votre voie et devenir un créateur « autodidacte » original, semblable à personne d’autre, reconnaissable entre mille en transcendant « l’amateurisme » (vu d’un point de vue académique) pour atteindre une expression scénique vivante et éblouissante. Un chant incandescent! À l’instar de ces musiciens traditionnels de villages turcs, grecs ou africains qui magnétisent leur public , sans être des virtuoses « musicalement éduqués ». À défaut de nous mettre sous la dent le premier concert de Peter Brötzmann avec Milford Graves (1980, Bruxelles) dont la bande n’a pu être publiée à cause d’un souci technique, nous tenons avec Triangle Live at Ohm 1987 un premier choix de l’époque grandiose des années qui ont suivi la fin du trio Brötzm Van Hove Bennink dans les derniers mois de 1976. Et avant qu’on réédite le concert du trio Brötzm – Derek Bailey – Sabu paru chez Improvised Music from Japan. À mon point de vue, leur duo équivaut esthétiquement et musicalement les duos enregistrés par Brötzmann avec d'autres batteurs. Cet album est co-produit dans la Chap Chap Serie de No Business par Takeo Suetomi de Chap-Chap Records, un label japonais qui documente la musique de Sabu Toyozumi, lequel crée une oeuvre graphique pour chacun des ses albums, comme pour ce CD Triangle . De toute façon Sabu vit sa musique avec la plus grande simplicité amicale et partage facilement la scène. Sabu a même enregistré avec moi, c’est dire !

(Jean-Michel Van Schouwburg)

 

 

 

Kim Dae Hwan / Choi Sun Bae: Korean Fantasy

By Glenn Astarita
February 20, 2024
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Korean Fantasy by Kim Dae Hwan (drums) and Choi Sun Bae (trumpet, harmonica) captures the ethereal essence of a live performance on November 26, 1999, at Aspirante, Hofu City, in Yamaguchi, Japan. This record stands as testament to the label's commitment to presenting a blend of avant-garde jazz and improvisation, and unearthing gems from the archives while also spotlighting contemporary works from a diverse roster of international artists.

The album presents a gripping exploration of improvisational acumen, rooted deep in the rich soil of traditional Korean music. This marks the duo's inaugural foray as a pair. Complemented by a booklet featuring photographs and an insightful essay by Takeo Suetomi of Chap Chap Records, the package offers a deep dive into the performance's context and the artists' profound connection to their craft.

The live recording's ambiance invites listeners to close their eyes and visualize the performance space, where the air is thick with the tension and release of musical counterpoints. The duo navigate a landscape filled with capacious undercurrents, free-form expressions, and introspective motifs. Sun Bae's trumpet soars through radiant peaks and dips into subtle melodies, engaging in a dynamic conversation with Dae Hwan's drums, which alternate between ferocious energy and gentle whispers. In a standout moment during "FM-1," Sun Bae's transition to harmonica introduces a uniquely off-kilter blues groove, perfectly complemented by Dae Hwan's forceful drumming. Meanwhile, "FM-3" highlights Dae Hwan's complex rhythms and Sun Bae's bold, declarative playing, though they also find moments to dial back the intensity, inviting listeners to immerse themselves fully in their sonic world.

As the final notes fade, Korean Fantasy leaves a lingering echo of its innovative spirit, a whimsical reminder that music is not just heard but deeply felt, bridging continents and cultures, and forever dancing in the spaces between.

Mototeru Takagi/Kim Dae Hwan/Choi Sun Bae

January 3, 2023

Of all the players in major Asian countries who have experimented with free music, those in South Korea or the least known. Over the years only a few have dared to investigate the style which greatly contrasts with the country’s fashionable and profitable KPop and its offshoots. That’s what makes Seishin-Seido particularly valuable, poignant and also frustrating. Recorded at a 1995 Japanese concert the six selections offer music from three of the few Koreans associated with the sound. It’s valuable because almost none of this music gets to the West; it’s poignant because two of the three participants have since died; and it’s frustrating because, except for the final trio track, others are solos and duos. Korean free percussionist Kim Dae Hwan, who also recorded with Barre Phillips, died at 70 in 2003; tenor saxophonist Mototeru Takagi, who also played with Derek Bailey and was actually Japanese of Korean descent died at 61 in 2002. Trumpeter Choi Sun Bae, who is now 80 and often plays with Alfred 23 Harth in Korea, spent most of his career in Japanese groups.

Individually each players creates with skills similar to free improvisers elsewhere. Unaccompanied, Bae works his way to the stratosphere with screeching triplets and half-valve flutters and bites while vibrating a horizontal tone. Takagi’s wide saxophone extensions become deeper and darker as he changes tempos and fragments his line. At the same time his repeated theme variations add moderated logic to slurry outbursts. Sticking to resounding kettle drums plus metallic rattles and gong-like resonations from his cymbals, Kim’s exposition confirms his ability to enhance dynamics even if percussive diversity is provided by hand patting and drum sticks claps.

Most crucial to the session are the extended title track and the concluding “Step by Step”. Takagi’s Aylerian screech is heard on each with Bae’s flighty portamento and half-valves responding contrapuntally as both onslaught and obbligato. A skein of lyricism also affects “Seishin-Seido“ in spite of brass shrills and reed snarls. Drum clatters and cymbal pops are more evident on the final piece with Bae’s flamboyance in producing dog-whistle squeaks matching any of Takagi multiphonics. Summing up. the three reach a climax of pounding percussion ruffs, segmented brass flutters and split tone vibrations.

Seishin-Seido is an excellent introduction to dedicated Korean free music. It’s too bad that folks didn’t hear it during Kim’s and Takagi’s lifetimes.

–Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Seishin – Seido 2. Natural Sound 3. Remember 4. Ethyopia 5. Life Cycle 6. Step by Step

Personnel: Choi Sun Bae (trumpet); Mototeru Takagi (tenor saxophone) and Kim Dae Hwan (percussion)

 

MOTOTERU TAKAGI | KIM DAE HWAN | CHOI SUN BAE

 

«Seishin – Seido (正心正道)»
NOBUSINESS, NBCD 157

NoBusiness Records i Vilnius fortsetter å utgi spennende musikk fra Asia i sin serie Chap Chap Series. Denne gangen er de kommet til legendariske musikere fra omtrent så langt øst i Asia det er mulig å komme, nemlig trompeteren Choi Sun Bae, tenorsaksofonisten Mototeru Takagi og perkusjonisten Kim Dae Hwan – tre relativt ukjente musikere for oss her i vest, men som sikkert er velkjente blant de som virkelig følger med på den japanske jazzhistorien – avdeling for fri improvisasjon.

Salsofonisten Takagi Mototeru (高木元輝) forlot denne verden i desember 2002, og ble født i Osaka i 1941, men vokste opp i Yokohama. I løpet av sine yngre år tilbrakte han tid i bandene til musikere som Charlie Ishiguro og Hisashi Sakurai, men begynte først å utvikle sin særegne frijazz da han begynte i Motoharu Yoshizawa Trio i 1968. Året etter ble han med i Togashis Quartet og ESSG. Etter samarbeidet med Togashis spilte han en kort periode med Masayuki Takayangis New Direction Unit og i duo med perkusjonisten Sabu Toyozumi. Fra november 1973 tilbrakte han ett år i Frankrike, og returnerte til Japan i november 1974. Takagi spilte inn svært få album som bandleder i løpet av karrieren, men han ble høyt verdsatt som en samarbeidspartner av mange japanske jazz-, rock- og avantgardemusikere. Hans innspilling Live at Little John, Yokohama 1999, er, selvsagt anmeldt på salt peanuts*, og anmeldelsen kan du lese HER.

Perkusjonisten Kim Dae Hwan kom fra Korea, og ble født i 1933 og forlot oss i 2004. Han spilte mye i Japan med frittgående, japanske musikere, og gjorde flere plateinnspillinger, blant annet innspillingen «Arirang Fantasy» på NoBusiness, som er anmeldt https://salt-peanuts.eu/record/choi-sun-bae-quartet/, mens trompeteren Choi Sun Bae er japansk og har gjort plater med blant andre Alfred Harth, Kim Dae Hwan (fetteren til Kim Dae Hwan), pluss den spennende soloutgivelsen Solo på Labhuette Productions i 2007.

På Seishin – Seido får vi først tittelsporet, som er en utmerket duosekvens med Takagi og Dae Hwan, hvor den kollektive improvisasjonen fungerer svært godt. Her er det to musikere som kjenner hverandres tanker godt, og får det ut på utmerket måte i improvisasjonen. Så følger «Natural Sound», som er en neddempet og fin sololåt av Kim Dae Hwan, før Takagi får briljere med nydelig og fritt tenorsaksofonspill i «Remember», hvor man kan ane noen amerikanske inspirasjoner, men hvor musikken hele veien er personlig og egen. Kanskje er det Albert Ayler som ligger nærmest, men ikke slik at det blir noen kopi. Her er det Takagis egne tanaker vi får et innblikk i, og jeg føler at dette aldri kunne vært gjort av noen utenfor Japan. Nydelig!

Takagi fortsetter på «Life Cycle», hvor tonene nærmest pines fram, før han overlater plassen til Sun Bae og hans trompetspill som foregår mye høyt oppe i registeret. Og selv om de to har hver sin «soloavdeling» i låta, hører man at de to absolutt er på bølgelengde. Vart spill fra begge, og nydelig fremført! Så følger «Ethyopia», som er en lang duoimprovisasjon med Takagi og Dae Hwan, som hele tiden beveger seg fint framover med strålende saksofonspill og upåklagelig trommesamarbeid, og hele veien svært neddempet.

Så avslutter de med «Step by Step», hvor vi får alle tre sammen i en spennende felles improvisasjon, hvor de tre lytter intenst til hverandre, og for improvisasjonene fungerer utmerket.

Dette er blitt en ytterst neddempet plate fra tre musikere fra Asia som briljerer med fritt improvisert musikk på en måte det er sjelden vi hører her i Europa. En utmerket arkivutgivelse, som viser at mye av den mest spennende, fritt improviserte musikken, ble spilt i Japan, og denne konserten på Café Amores i Hufu City den 10. august 1995, var intet unntak.

Jan Granlie

Mototeru Takagi (高木元輝) (ts), Kim Dae Hwan (金大煥) (perc), Choi Sun Bae (崔善培：正心正道) (tp)  

 

 

Yuji Takahashi / Sabu Toyozumi: The Quietly Clouds And A Wild Crane

By John Sharpe
October 1, 2023
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Unlike most drum and piano duets, where the keyboard gets all the best lines, Sabu Toyozumi and Yuji Takahashi craft a truly egalitarian meeting of minds on The Quietly Clouds And A Wild Crane. Recorded in 1998, it represents another bulletin from the vital Japanese free scene of the period issued by the Lithuanian NoBusiness imprint in collaboration with Chap Chap Records.

Toyozumi may be one of the more recognizable names from this milieu, given his regular excursions to the West. At one point, he even became the only non-American member of Chicago's pioneering AACM. His partners have included artists as varied as trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith, guitarist Derek Bailey and saxophonist Mats Gustafsson. By contrast, Takahashi's renown resides in his work as a composer and performer of contemporary classical repertoire by Schoenberg, Webern, Cage, Xenakis (who he studied under in Berlin) as well as earlier works by Bach, and Satie. Clearly, then, this is an unusual encounter.

As a consequence, this music falls outside the avant-garde tradition. The two long tracks, each around the half-hour mark, follow an elusive path in which juxtaposed events and a confluence of moods sometimes seem as close as the participants come. But then one of those moments arrives which reveals the listening that has been going on all along, as in the delicate percussive dialogue at the end of "Lovely Silver 6000 km." Takahashi often takes a simple linear approach, sometimes almost like a nursery rhyme, then, at other times, offering a stream of evenly articulated notes which suggest he might be familiar with Cecil Taylor.

Toyozumi similarly avoids a polyrhythmic approach, instead producing a balanced sequence of unconventional textures from earthy drums, tappy percussion and untethered gongs and cymbals. Perhaps in recognition, he garners the lion's share of the solo space. Further accentuating the percussive nature of the date, Takahashi also wields various devices, notably at the beginning of "Shoulder Blade And Hip Joint" where his knocks, rattles and shakes abut Toyozumi's abrasions and rustles. Proceedings turn more demonstrative later, as crashes at the extremes of the keyboard match the drummer's bombastic strikes. It ends with fast rippling piano underpinned by reiterated whistle blowing and cymbal shimmer in exchanges which suggest an unseen theatrical element to the performance.

For those seeking approaches to improv removed from the norm, this session might just hit the spot.

Mototeru Takagi Quartet 
  Live At Little John, Yokohama 1999  
  (NoBusiness Records) 

  

Live at Little John, Yokohama 1999 begins like a lot of free improv performances do, with the musicians fumbling for a motif or melody or direction that sticks. About five minutes in Shota Koyama steps up and offers a percussive canvass that seems to provide the stability for the three horn players. This is when the musicians fall into step and the piece really gets inspired. With a line-up of three horns, one might assume the performance would be something of a blow-out session, wherein Mototeru Takagi, Susumu Kongo, and Nao Takeuchi fight for center stage and Koyama struggles from the background to be heard among the ruckus. But this is not the case. Rather, Live at Little John offers a series of jagged strands of sound that tangle, enmesh, and rend their collective handiwork apart only to pull back together in a calico but coherent statement of the state of seventies-inspired free improvisation at the millennium. Now, there are moments of hard blowing, in pairs and triples, including one 21 minutes into the 40-minute opening romp "Yokohama Iseazaki Town". Amidst such force, however, emerge clear phrasings and, on this specific take, a stilted march reminiscent of Kurt Weil minus the melodicism. This music swings, but not in the jazz sense. Rather it veers and rocks unsteadily between Coltrane-inspired modal motifs and the heavy, thumping sections of measured free blowing. In the case of the opener, which is both initiator and heart of this performance, any tendency toward blasting entropy is quickly reined in, whether encircled and pacified by Koyama's busy hands or shredded bluntly by Kongo and Takeuchi's bass clarinet interventions and finely by their manic flute runs. (For his part, Koyama plays expertly, like Sunny Murray with heavier rock inclinations but a similar intent to imply rather than set the rhythm. Unfortunately, on this otherwise impressive live recording, his quieter contributions are too often buried in the background.) Interestingly, this piece adopts a pastoral romanticism about 30 minutes in, further shattering any lingering doubts the listener might have that this is going to be some kind of micro-Globe Unity Orchestra free-for-all or World Saxophone Quartet hard-blowing melodic sprint. Rather, the instrumentation and instrumentalists enable this album to avoid the clogs the former, at least, sometimes encounters. Takagi, Kongo and Takeuchi never outshout each other, but instead produce a colorful mélange of timbres cutting every which way. The second track, Yokohama Yamashita Town, starts with a slow, contemplative build in the vein of Sonny Simmons, Noah Howard, Coltrane, and their ilk. Here, however, it dances around a suspended bass clarinet hum that evokes the heavy breath of a digeridoo. The piece develops organically and incrementally over its twelve minutes, reaching a climax of soulful ululations about halfway through and falling to a doleful modal fade in the end. The closer, "Yokohama Yamate Town", starts with flutes a' hoppin' and falls into a dully roaring groove as Takagi and Koyama step in. Maybe the quartet was just warmed up by this point, or maybe they were just having fun. Either way this piece showcases some especially fine entanglements, especially as Takagi, Kongo, and Takeuchi trade, tug, and layer their supple and dynamic phrases. Especially when the flutes take over again, one even hears a break with the neo-romantic and boxy new thing tendencies displayed earlier in favor of a new music-infused high-pitched pointillism. In a nod to the start of the set, "Yokohama Yamate Town" then gives way to some heavier sax blowing and some back-and-forth spitfire and percussive deflections, which draw the performance to its conclusion. Cheers to NoBusiness for releasing this treasure and, of course, to Mototeru Takagi and co. for letting us sit in, remotely, on a truly collective and rousing night of improvisation. Naturally, all archival recordings are not necessary worth releasing, especially in physical format. Add this to top of the pile that is.

Mototeru Takagi: Live At Little John Yokohama 1999

By John Sharpe
December 25, 2021
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Four Japanese improvisers gather for an absorbing summit meeting in the Tokyo port city on Live At Little John Yokohama 1999. Probably the best known of the quartet will be tenor saxophonist Mototeru Takagi, who appeared on drummer Milford Graves' underground classic Meditations Among Us (Kitty, 1977) some 22 years earlier. There is a whiff of that session on this album too, as it also features three horns with percussion; Takagi is joined by reed players Susumu Kongo and Nao Takeuchi (who studied with Byard Lancaster and performed with Elvin Jones), along with drummer Shota Koyama (a veteran of the fiery Yosuke Yamashita Unit). However this is a slightly less combustible affair, lacking Graves' polyrhythmic orchestration and unremitting fire-breathing from the reeds.

Much of the time a conversational vibe ensues, often loosely organised around a tonal center although, happily, the collective dander rises on occasion too. Takagi, who died in 2002, piioted few leadership dates during his career, so the fact that he is at the front and center of this 73-minute live recording makes it a valuable addition to his discography. His burnished yet vocalized tone dominates the woodwinds' floating weave on the episodic 40-minute "Yokohama Iseazaki Town," with Koyama's responsive coloration and accents contributing to an almost airy feel at times. All the better, that sets off the passage at the halfway point, when Kongo and Takeuchi wield their saxophones and the piece explodes into a bristling three-way dog fight.

However, the highlight of the disc is the relatively brief 12-minute "Yokohama Yamashita Town," a masterpiece of controlled extemporization, where Takagi's majestic tenor saxophone squawk fashions a dirge-like melody, alternately cosseted and buffeted by Takeuchi's increasingly rambunctious bass clarinet and Kongo's wailing alto saxophone, atop brooding drums. The final "Yokohama Yamate Town" manifests in two halves, the first a showcase for the vibrant flutes of Kongo and Takeuchi (whose connection was vouchsafed by a duo disc Our Tribal Music (Vibration, 1997)), the second a more bombastic three saxophone conflagration, which nicely cleanses the palate and certainly merits the audible audience approval.

Pierre Crepon - New York City Jazz Record

Working outside of this circumscribed area, Takagi’s playing moves on to another order of magnitude. On Live at Little John, Yokohama 1999, Takagi is featured on tenor with drummer Shota Koyama and two wind players one generation younger: Susumu Kongo and Nao Takeuchi. Respectively playing alto and tenor and both doubling on flute and bass clarinet, they will be names known only to specialists of the Japanese scene but are nevertheless excellent musicians. The liner essay indicates that Kongo is also a noted repairman and that Takeuchi has been a student of both Takagi and Byard Lancaster. There are several outstanding moments in the 40-minute opening piece, but Track Two is the stunner and gives an accurate idea of the overall dynamic. It opens with tenor underscored by low bass clarinet tones held through circular breathing. A short cyclical motive signals the move into another phase, which could be described using the vocabulary applying to classic free jazz buildups. But here, gradually increasing intensity does not proceed from cumulative playing merging into a single sound mass; it results from an explosive amount of multidirectional melodic and rhythmic invention from the three horns, all playing simultaneously, but with impressive delineation. As on most of the tape, Koyama’s drumming remains economical and supportive. Elsewhere, Takagi has also taken the uncommon step of approaching U.S. free jazz in terms of repertoire, playing pieces by Ornette Coleman, Charles Tyler, Steve Lacy or the Art Ensemble of Chicago. This piece reaches its conclusion as if following the classic organization of jazz performances that still figured in the music of the early American pioneers, returning to the opening statement, calmly and with perfect balance. This is mature music that uses the best of what had been uncovered during the long and convoluted history of free playing. It is also, importantly for an archival release, not music heard before. Takagi died three years after this performance.

Michael Rosenstein - Point of Departure

The newest entry in the Lithuanian NoBusiness/Chap Chap Records series is another archival gem. This time out, they rescue a three reed and drummer quartet recorded live in 1999 at the tiny Little John jazz club in Yokohama, Japan. The best-known member of the group is tenor player Mototeru Takagi who was part of the 1970s Japanese free jazz scene, playing in groups led by Masahiko Togashi, Motoharu Yoshizawa, and Masayuki Takayanagi. Takagi also collaborated with Derek Bailey when the guitarist visited, their duo documented on the NoBusiness release Live At FarOut, Atsugi 1987. Reed players Nao Takeuchi and Susumu Kongo and drummer Shota Koyama are from a younger generation and are less well known outside of Japan. Over the course of the 75-minute set captured here, Takagi’s tenor is complemented by Takeuchi who switches between tenor, flute, and bass clarinet and Kongo who augments his alto with flute and bass clarinet. The three horn players play with an unfettered freedom, wrapping lines across each other over the spare undercurrent of Koyama’s drums.

The danger in horn-heavy settings like this is that they devolve into brawny cutting sessions. But these three are canny collaborators willing to push without playing over each other. The complement of registers is played to distinctive advantage as the two younger players seamlessly switch between horns. There’s a particularly strong section midway through the first 40-minute improvisation where Togashi leaps to the upper registers of his tenor, countered by low bass clarinet grumbles and breathy flute exclamations anchored by Koyama’s open rolling toms. As the piece winds its way from there, the reed players chatter across each other, building densities and then opening up for various solos and duos, pulling it all together for a quiet resolution.

The second improvisation, at 12 minutes long, starts with an incantatory tenor solo over a low bass clarinet drone. A third of the way through, tensions start to build as the tenor digs to burred, gravelly low end and bass clarinet and alto pick up phrases from the darkly lyrical theme, buoyed by the free stutter of snare and cymbals. The closing 20-minute piece starts with a strident flute solo joined in by a second flute as the two dart across each other in briskly acrobatic swoops and cries. Koyama enters in with percussive slashes, setting the stage for Takagi’s supple tenor entreaties to enter the mix. The improvisation proceeds with a measured sense of arc as the various members duck in and out, leaving plenty of collective room. About two thirds of the way in, there is a lull as Kongo and Takeuchi switch to saxophones and the piece charges off to a torrid conclusion. Kudos as usual to NoBusiness and Chap Chap for continuing to unearth this music, presenting the fertile Asian free jazz scene to a broader audience.

Ken Waxman - The Whole Note

Abandoning chordal instruments and concentrating on horn textures, Live at Little John, Yokohama 1999 (NoBusiness NBCD 144 nobusinessrecords.com) provides an alternative variant of Nipponese free music. Backed only by the resourceful drumming of Shota Koyama, a trio of wind players creates almost limitless tonal variants singly, in tandem or counterpoint. Best known is tenor saxophonist Mototeru Takagi (1941-2002), who was in Takayangi’s New Direction Unit and in a duo with percussionist Sabu Toyozumi. The others who would later adopt more conventional styles are Susumu Kongo who plays alto saxophone, flute and bass clarinet, and Nao Takeuchi on tenor saxophone, flute and bass clarinet. No compromising of pure improvisation is heard on this CD’s three lengthy selections, although there are times when flute textures drift towards delicacy and away from the ratcheting peeps expelled elsewhere. Whether pitched in the lowing chalumeau register or squeaking clarion split tones, clarinet textures add to the dissonant sound mosaic. This isn’t anarchistic blowing however, since the tracks are paced with brief melodic interludes preventing the program from overheating. The more than 40 minute Yokohama Iseazaki Town gives the quartet its greatest scope, as vibrating split tones pass from one horn to another with percussion crunches keeping the exposition chromatic. Takagi’s hardened flutters and yowling vibrations may make the greatest impression, but Kongo’s alto saxophone bites are emphasized as well. Although space exists for clarion clarinet puffs and transverse flute trilling, it’s the largest horn’s foghorn honks and tongue-slaps that prevent any extraneous prettiness seeping into the duets. Still, with canny use of counterpoint and careful layering of horn tones backed by sprawling drum raps, the feeling of control is always maintained along with the confirmation of how the balancing act between expression and connection is maintained.

Itaru Oki Quartet - Live at Jazz Spot Combo 1975 (NoBusiness Records, 2021) & Alan Silva, Itaru Oki, Makoto Sato & Richard Comte - Celebration (Nunc, 2022)

 

 

By Stef Gijssels

Two years ago, Japanese trumpeter Itaru Oki passed away, and was remembered by Eyal Haruveni on this tribute article. For fans of Oki, luckily archival material was still available and we can thank the labels for releasing these two albums. 

Itaru Oki Quartet - Live at Jazz Spot Combo 1975 (NoBusiness Records, 2021)

 

The first one is released by the Lithuanian NoBusiness label, which has a knack for delving up quality material from older free jazz archives. The recording captures a performance from 7th December, 1975 at the Jazz Spot Combo, a jazz club in Fukuoka City, Japan. The band consists of Itaru Oki on trumpet and flute, Yoshiaki Fujikawa on alto saxophone and flute, Keiki Midorikawa on bass, and Hozumi Tanaka on drums. 

The value of this performance cannot be overestimated. Very little material is available from Oki before 1974, and most material is European-based after he moved to Paris around that time, so it is fascinating to hear him perform in this Japanese line-up in the mid-seventies. The sound quality is excellent, the playing is fresh and highly energetic, and the entire band is really enjoying themselves. 

Even if at times the Ornette Coleman sound shines through - not only because of the line-up, but also because of the music's themes and structural elements, as well as Fujikawa's phrasing on alto - Oki has sufficient character to delevop his own sound for the band, which has the colour and dynamics of that time period, but truly enjoyable, also today. 

 

Itaru Oki Quartet: Live At Jazz Spot Combo 1975

By John Sharpe
January 9, 2022
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Live At Jazz Spot Combo 1975 constitutes the second entry from trumpeter Itaru Oki, who died in 2020, in the fascinating series of Japanese free jazz recordings licensed from the Chap Chap label by the Lithuanian NoBusiness imprint. It follows Kami Fusen (2017) which presented another live date from 21 years later. One of the pioneers of the music in his native country, Oki moved to Paris in 1974, subsequently working with many luminaries including saxophonists Steve Lacy, Noah Howard and Sam Rivers, and was part of some acclaimed releases thereafter, Symphony For Old And New Dimensions (Ayler Records, 2009) in particular comes to mind.

Fourteen months into his European sojourn he returned home on a visit when he reunited with former trio colleagues, bassist Keiki Motorikawa and drummer Hozumi Tanaka, in a quartet completed by reedman Yoshiaki Fujikawa for a concert in the port city of Fukuoka. On five cuts they deftly mix unscripted excursions with loosely traced themes and reap the rewards of time shared on the bandstand. One benefit is that even when playing compositions, Motorikawa and Tanaka are able to interact without restraint, creating a stimulating underpinning for the horns.

The interplay between brass and woodwinds proves another attractive element of the set. While on trumpet Oki often paraphrases melodic progressions in his improvisations, even referencing standards at some points, Fujikawa on occasion pushes to the extremes, his guttural harshness offset by banshee squeals. At these times, Oki adds shrill flute pipings to the maelstrom to accentuate the untrammeled churn.

Oki's annunciatory trumpet shadowed by cymbals opens "Combo Session 1," before he introduces a minor key melody, embellished by Fujikawa's flute. Like much free jazz of the period, what ensues doesn't necessarily relate to the notated head, but strikes out into uncharted territory, bass and drums choppily generating tension, before a reprise. The group discourse is deeply engaging. There's an obvious connection between Fujikawa's snaky bittersweet alto saxophone exchanges with Tanaka's malletted drums on "Combo Session 2," while the extemporized "Combo Session 3" duet between the drummer and Oki's bright lyric trumpet, fluttering like a flag in a breeze, is one of the highlights of the 69-minute album.

This set offers yet another intriguing window into a scene with which many will be unfamiliar, but which contains countless surprises and merits in-depth investigation.

Ken Waxman - The Whole Note

Although arriving from a dissimilar tradition, free-form experiments were common in 1960s Japan with several avant-garde ensembles throughout the country. One player who tried for more international renown was trumpeter Itaru Oki (1941-2020). He relocated to France in 1974 and was soon playing with locals. Occasionally he returned to gig in Japan, and Live at Jazz Spot Combo 1975 (NoBusiness NBCD 143 nobusinessrecords.com) reproduces one of those visits. Playing with drummer Hozumi Tanaka who was part of his Japanese trio, bassist Keiki Midorikawa and, crucially, alto saxophonist/flutist Yoshiaki Fujikawa, Oki’s quartet roams through five themes and improvisations. The trumpeter’s truculent flutters set the pace with speedy arabesques in counterpoint to slithery flute flutters. While keeping the exposition horizontal, the trumpeter prolongs intensity with triplets and half-valve effects. Backed by sul tasto bass string rubs and percussion slaps, Fujikawa is even more assertive beginning with Combo Session 2, where initial saxophone concordance with trumpet puffs soon dissolves into strangled reed cries and irregular vibrations. Dragging an emotional response from Oki, both horns are soon exfoliating the narrative, seconded by cymbal shivers. But the four stay rooted enough in jazz to recap the head after cycling through theme variations. These opposing strategies are refined throughout the rest of this live set. But no matter how often the saxophonist expresses extended techniques such as doits and spetrofluctuation, linear expression prevents aural discomfort. In fact, the concluding Combo Session 5 could be termed a free jazz ballad. While Oki’s tonal delineation includes higher pitches and more note expansion than a standard exposition, at points he appears to be channelling You Don’t Know What Love Is. That is, until Midorikawa’s power pumps, Tanaka’s clapping ruffs and the saxophonist’s stentorian whistles and snarls turn brass output to plunger emphasis leading to a stimulating rhythmic interlude. With trumpet flutters descending and reed trills ascending a unison climax is reached.

Album Review

Sabu Toyozumi / Mats Gustafsson: Hokusai

By Mark Corroto
February 17, 2021
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This tantalizing duo between Mats Gustafsson and Sabu Toyozumi was recorded at two live concerts in Chiba, Japan in 2018. Probably most listeners are familiar with the Swedish saxophonist from his avant—garage trio The Thing with Ingebrigt Håker Flaten and Paal Nilssen-Love and dozens of other ensembles including Fire! Orchestra, The End, and Cuts with Masami Akita aka Merzbow, and Balazs Pandí, to name but a few.

This recording may be an introduction to Japanese drummer/percussionist Toyozumi. He has been an active musician for decades, recording with Masahiko Satoh, Rick Countryman, Wadada Leo Smith, Paul Rutherford, and even Charles Mingus in 1971. His 1980s recordings with Peter Brötzmann and Derek Bailey have long been treasured by free jazz aficionados.

Hokusai is available in LP with three lengthy tracks or CD with the inclusion of an additional solo performance by Gustafsson and Toyozumi. The three duos presented open with "Sunflower," a piece that enters stealthily enough with barely perceptible baritone saxophone breath and minimal percussive pulse. The spell is broken by the cluck and pop of Gustafsson's saxophone and his vocalizations. Toyozumi follows with his stop-start attack which converts into a jagged blast of energy. The pair work a quiet/loud/quiet approach to great effect, drawing you in then jolting you out. "Woman With A Cat" finds Gustafsson hoisting both fluteophone and flute. The interaction rotates around the music's tension and release of energy, Toyozumi as tour director here. The music next presents a solo by each performer. Gustafsson returns to the baritone saxophone, applying minimalist sounds incorporating breathy passages, pops, cluck and his vocalizations. Toyozumi's solo relies on space, utilizing quiet as much as pulse here. The pair reunite for the 20+ minute "For Ever-Advancing Artistry." Their music finds a meeting of the minds here, with any hesitation that might have been perceived on the previous interactions dissolved. The finale is a sweat drenched, leave-it-all-on-the- bandstand improvisation.

Sabu Toyozumi / Mats Gustafsson: Hokusai

By John Sharpe
May 9, 2021
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In a departure from the archival recordings customarily offered by the NoBusiness label's Japanese Chap Chap series, Hokusai presents a meeting of minds between Swedish reedman Mats Gustafsson and veteran drummer Sabu Toyozumi, recorded live in June 2018. The 65-minute program includes a solo piece from each man but still affords over 40-minutes of the pair in tandem.

As one of the pioneers of Japanese free music Toyozumi has played with virtually everyone of note among his countrymen and touring improvisers. Indeed in 1971 the drummer became the only non-American member of Chicago's groundbreaking AACM. He brings the same appreciation of space to this date as can be heard on his splendid duet with trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith on Burning Meditation (NoBusiness, 2019). But perhaps as a result of his travels and wide ranging experience he also proves at home in resolutely non-metric textural exchanges as well as more typical free jazz pulsation.

Having exploded onto the scene as one third of Scandinavian power trio The Thing, Gustafsson now leads his equally volatile Fire! and Nu ensembles. In this performance he alternates between scuttling abstractions and abrupt outbursts of the sort of visceral howls which have become his signature. Certainly as far as Gustafsson is concerned, rather than namechecking Japan's most well known artist, the 19th century master Hokusai, Francis Bacon, an icon of post- war art might be more appropriate, with his murky smeared figures and screaming Popes. That's to say it is difficult not to impute an emotional dimension to Gustafsson's vocalized wailing, one which suggests inchoate rage and despair.

An early entry among the standout moments arrives near the beginning of the opening "Sunflower," during a sudden crescendo when the saxophonist's percussive plosives and the drummer's reiterated patterns spark in electrifying synergy. Toyozumi's unaccompanied outing on "Red View Of Mount Fuji" constitutes another highlight as he fashions a demonstrative exhibition from blizzards of cymbals and tumbling drum strokes in speech-like phrases. Similarly memorable is the sequence towards the end of the final "For Ever-Advancing Artistry" when huge waves of primal screeches repeatedly break on the jagged hard shore of Toyozumi's drums.

With two very distinctive personalities at play, this album acts as a fascinating reminder of the potency of improvised music.

Album Review

Derek Bailey / Mototeru Takagi: Live At FarOut, Atsugi 1987

By John Sharpe
May 4, 2021
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Thanks to its licensing deal with the Japanese Chap Chap label, the Lithuanian NoBusiness imprint continues its exposure of unexpected gems from the Japanese free scene of the 1980s and 1990s. While many feature solely native improvisers, others pair local performers with Western visitors.

Live At Far Out, Atsugi 1987 falls into the latter camp, presenting British guitarist Derek Bailey during one of his regular visits to the country, in duet with saxophonist Mototeru Takagi. Sadly, both men have since died, Takagi in 2002 and Bailey three years later. To modern ears, Bailey's iconoclastic guitar style no longer shocks as it once did, having been assimilated by so many outward-leaning practitioners, but neither is he an easy listen.

Although Bailey was a fervent believer in expanding his circle of collaborators, he had connected with the reedman previously, as evidenced by a track on Duo & Trio Improvisation (Kitty, 1978). As he told writer John Corbett: "I do like to play with new people. If you're working in this field, freely improvised music, it's one of the sources of replenishment." What Bailey found in Takagi was an imaginative and like-minded spirit, one not overly ego-driven, who possessed the skills and desire to extract unusual timbres from his instrument, which coincided with his own. The reedman suppresses his fire-breathing tendencies, taking a controlled approach to overblowing and multiphonics. He even recalls the straight horn expression of Steve Lacy in his near melodic reworkings on occasion.

Indeed, the result is not as left field as the venue name might imply. At times there's an extraordinary austere beauty to the confluence of sounds they produce, especially on the near half hour "Duo I." While Bailey remains resolutely non-idiomatic, there's a hint of something lyrical tantalizingly just out of reach amid his abstraction, as his stream of ringing notes and carefully sculpted feedback sustains contrast with Takagi's gently probing soprano in the spacious opening segment. Further proof of close listening comes in the empathetic pacing: when Takagi launches a cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof staccato prance, Bailey responds with a jangling cascade similarly zigzagging to and fro along the fretboard. But there are limits and Bailey stays determinedly non-committal when the piece ends with Takagi outlining the refrain of "Blue Monk."

Although mostly a collective endeavor, Bailey plays the first 12-minutes of "Duo II" unaccompanied, this time without amplification, creating a dry and wiry ambience. But when in consort, speed and density wax and wane in tandem, even on "Duo IV" where the prickly interaction and more extreme textures might suggest parallel courses. At over 70-minutes the disc provides an exhaustive survey of their compatibility, which at best as on the opener, speaks to a palpable bond.

Michael Rosenstein - Point of Departure

The Lithuanian NoBusiness label pulls another gem from the vaults with the release of this previously unissued live recording of Derek Bailey and Japanese reed player Mototeru Takagi, recorded live in 1987 at FarOut, Atsugi, Kanagawa, Japan. Part of the initial group of Japanese free jazz players, Takagi ought to be far better known than he is. Starting out in percussionist Motoharu Yoshizawa’s trio in 1968, Takagi went on to play with key Japanese free improvisers like Masahiko Togashi, Masayuki Takayangi, Motoharu Yoshizawa, Itaru Oki, Toshinori Kondo and Sabu Toyozumi. From the late ‘60s on, this community of musicians began charting a collective approach to uncompromising freedom, increasingly collaborating with visiting free players from Europe and the US. Takagi was amongst those tapped when Milford Graves visited Japan in 1977 (documented on the album Meditation Among Us) and when Derek Bailey visited in 1978 (documented on the album Duo & Trio Improvisations). Bailey returned to Japan a number of times after that 1978 meeting, including the tour that resulted in this recording.

When Bailey returned in 1987, he played some solos, duos with dancer Min Tanaka, and in a trio with Peter Brötzmann and percussionist Sabu Toyozumi as well as in this duo session with Takagi. The reed player sticks to soprano saxophone across the four expansive duos, a half hour opener, two 17-minute pieces, and a relatively compact 8-minute foray. Bailey’s electric guitar playing is in top form throughout, his lightning, refracted angular phrasing bursting with brittle resonance. One can readily hear why Bailey gravitated to Takagi. The reed player immediately hits with an acidic attack, starting with long tones that ring against Bailey’s harmonics, patiently building to lithe, spiky intensity. It’s always great to hear Bailey when he finds a potent foil, and the two clearly revel in the intertwined, parallel arcs that develop. Particularly over the course of the first piece, they take their time, probing, prodding, letting their respective lines course, ring against each other, unhurriedly unwind, only to lunge forth, bristling with skirling vigor, ending with Takagi looping a lyrical thread to close things out.

“Duo II” starts with a deliberate, spare solo by Bailey as his overtones and prickly lines splinter and scrabble with resolute deliberation. Takagi only enters two thirds of the way through, picking and prodding against Bailey’s lines, and then quickly gathering momentum as the two accelerate their way toward a skittering conclusion. The 8-minute long “Duo III” introduces a freely abstract lyricism to their playing, as the two navigate their way with restless flutters and flourishes, ending with a short solo segment for the reed player’s circuitous phrases. “Duo IV” picks up with pinched, overblown reed overtones that resolve into melodic threads which stretch over Bailey’s steely resonance and fissured harmonic fragments. Bailey’s mastery of attack and sustain shines through, often laid bare as Takagi drops back, waiting for opportune moments to dive back in. There are sections which build more density, owing perhaps to the rapport the two have developed over the set. But they never let that density overwhelm the proceedings, knowing when to pull back to build tension and then release in flurried torrents. This release is a welcome discovery of a prime, unknown session by Bailey and should serve to put Takagi on listeners’ radar.

Jean-Michel Van Schouwburg - Orynx Improv and Sounds Blog

Album bringing together guitarist Derek Bailey and saxophonist Mototeru Takagi , here on soprano sax and available on CD and LP. In 1987, Derek Bailey was at the top of his game. During various stays in Japan, he regularly meets a series of Japanese musicians who had participated in his LP " Duo & Trio Improvisation(Kitty Records April 1978): trumpeter Toshinori Kondo, percussionist Tsuchi Tsuchitori, double bassist Motoharu Yoshizawa, and saxophonists Kaoru Abe and Mototeru Takagi. He also met drummer Sabu Toyozumi, a close companion of this now decimated sibling of improvisers, the extraordinary trumpeter Toshinori Kondo having passed away last month. Among all these pioneers of Japanese free-music, Mototeru Takagi has not acquired the legendary status of Abe, Takyanagi, Toyozumi, Kondo, Sakata whose recordings flourish to the point that No Business publishes an uninterrupted series of albums in collaboration with the Chap-Chap labelby Takeo Suetomi, himself a legendary concert organizer. He saw fit to offer this distant memory of a concert in Atsugi, where Brötzmann and Bennink engraved their most sought-after album by collectors, by hitting hard! No matter who he plays with, Derek Bailey cultivates an extraordinary art to take creative advantage of a confrontation - dialogue by revealing even more the (unlimited) richness of his playing. If Mototeru Takagi is undoubtedly not a comparable soprano saxophonist to giants like Steve Lacy, Evan Parker or Lol Coxhill, he follows his path without blinking, extending his language boldly showing a strong will. His approach is oriented towards a form of detached lyricism, poetic, subtle by its alterations on the tones and extreme sound points. Duo I spans 28:11. The sauce gets even better in the second improvisation (Duo II 17:39) where Derek Bailey plays solo acoustically to begin with, sometimes evoking the sound of a Japanese koto zither. Obviously, this inspires Takagi who applies himself to dialogue with a beautiful logic. Duet III 8:09: the dialogue reaches fullness, the timbre of the sax acquires an intense glow, a serene warmth. He continues on his way and discovers a winding path while his companion is silent, facing a questioning silence streaked by trebles. We continue on the Duo IV. Derek Bailey has resumed his electric guitar and exploits the harmonics with the volume pedal. Takagi's playing evokes Lacy's polytonal ritornellas and cascades. The duo then beats at full speed with the dry staccatos to the stringing harmonics of the guitarist without the saxophonist escaping from his pensive, even reserved attitude. The guitar comes alive, the guitarist's swings in the distended intervals progressively evolve in impenetrable cadences and like a duck in front of a sunny pond, the sopranist cackles and noses to finally stretch saturated highs in response to the cleavers of manic clusters. While the concert therefore reaches a climax where everyone leaves their usual procedures in complete metamorphosis by stretching the sounds, we have the feeling that DB would certainly have selected this last part in an imaginary Company Made in Japan album.

Pierre Crepon - New York City Jazz Record

Guitarist and leading European improviser Derek Bailey first recorded with Takagi in a Tokyo studio in 1978. Unlike Kaoru Abe, the other saxophonist on that date, Takagi hasn’t yet achieved legendary status. Abe’s music often seemed to be the expression of a soul laid bare, at times in a nearly unbearable manner. With
Takagi, there is a greater distance between the listener and the performer. Although Takagi had mastered the torrential streams of sound characteristic of early free jazz, the control he seemed to exert in different situations made him a very adaptable musician and presence in many of the early Japanese groups. Takagi’s
travels outside Japan remained limited, but he did spend time in France in 1974, on the tail of the local free jazz boom. When he first visited New York in 1983, he played with drum master Sunny Murray and violinist Billy Bang. This adaptability is evident throughout the duet with Bailey issued as Live at FarOut, Atsugi 1987.
Sticking to soprano saxophone rather than his primary tenor, Takagi negotiates his way through an exhausting hour-long performance circumscribed by the parameters Bailey set for his music. The guitarist’s concentrated focus on unconventional techniques situates the music in the area of detailed tone production, set against a sparse background devoid of all artifacts used by American colleagues. The points where the instrumentalists’ sonic explorations meet constitute the session’s primary interest.

Masahiko Satoh - Then and Now

 

By Taylor McDowell

Pianist Masahiko Satoh has been a seminal figure in the history of Japanese free jazz since he came on the scene in the 1960s. More recently he has been involved in a number of commendable projects, playing with free jazz luminaries such as Peter Brotzmann, Ken Vandermark, Paal Nilssen-Love (and let us not forget the outstanding 2018 record with Akira Sakata & Chikamorachi )... His highly percussive, aggressive attack and stylistic affinity for jazz pianism and swing makes his playing wonderfully addictive, especially when we hear him sparring with such peers. These two releases, one from the vaults and the other more recent, offers snapshots of Satoh’s playing now and 20-years ago.

Masahiko Satoh & Subu Toyozumi - The Aiki (NoBusiness, 2019) ****

 

 

Here’s one from the archives: a 1997 performance with percussionist Sabu Toyozumi. Toyozumi, also one of Japan’s first generation of free jazzers, has led a long distinguished career in Japan and in the international field (a notable fact: he became the first non-American member of the AACM in 1971). Despite their long, intertwining careers, this is the only recorded evidence of a duo performance between Satoh and Toyozumi. The album’s title, Aiki, is a reference to a Japanese principle associated with the martial arts, whereby the practitioner redirects an attacker’s motion and energy with their own minimal physical expenditure.

The concept seems appropriate in the context of Satoh and Toyozumi’s playing. Satoh feels like the antagonizer here - his highly percussive approach and scalding attack often leading the charge. Toyozumi is a nimble and clever drummer who coolly fields Satoh’s momentum, deftly herding the energy with quick responses and playful rhythmic gestures. Satoh and Toyozumi leave it all on the table across two extended tracks (37 and 19 minutes, respectively). Much of their playing is characterized by the construction, reordering and fragmentation of rhythmic motifs, usually at breakneck speeds. Satoh’s playing has a distinctly “jazzy'' feel with an understated sense of swing in his atonal lines, broken up with manic flurries or pounded clusters that recall Cecil Taylor. Toyozumi provides colors by emphasizing the individual parts of his kit. I’ve read descriptions of his playing characterized as “melodic,” which sounds appropriate when listening to how he singles out the toms, cymbals, bells, etc. and gives voice to those parts. Of course, when the duo approaches climaxes (and there are many), keys and kit collectively form a dense wave of percussive might that reaffirms my love for this kind of music.

Highly communicative in spirit, and full to the brim in intensity, this is a virtuosic display by two monolithic figures of the Japanese vanguard. Highly recommended.

Jean-Michel Van Schouwburg - ORYNX

From an archive of recordings made by Takeo Suetomi and which he intended for his Chap Chap label, this formidable duo between pianist Masahiko Satoh and percussionist Yoshisaburo "  Sabu  " Toyozumi is brought to us by No Business in the Chap Chap Series of name of Suetomi's label. Three recordings of superb duets with Sabu Toyozumi have already been published in this series and I recommend them: The Conscience with the unforgettable trombonist Paul Rutherford, Burning with the brilliant chicagoan trumpeter Leo Smith and Mannyokawith Kaoru Abe, the shooting star of extreme free Japanese. Masahiko Satoh is the first Japanese free jazz musician to have performed and recorded in Europe. Spontaneous with Albert Mangelsdorff, Peter Warren and Allen Blairman and Trinitywith Peter Warren and Pierre Favre were published by the Enja label in 1972. You read correctly: Mangelsdorff and Pierre Favre, two essential artists of “free” euro-jazz. Disappeared from European radars since the blessed era when labels like Enja, Moers Music, MPS Saba engaged in "avant-garde" musical subversion, it is time that we throw an ear to this formidable free pianist whose daring then were solidly supported by a talent for pianist and connoisseur of contemporary music. There is a great double album by Joelle Léandre, Signature live at the Egg Farm(Red Toucan), in duet with two Japanese pianists, Masahiko Satoh and Yuji Takahashi. It is often in unexpected albums that the profound talent of the Lady of the Double Bass is revealed and this means that these two refined pianists inspire her. With Sabu Toyozumi, Masahiko Satoh creates a dialogue on everything the drummer offers, rhythms, scansions, distant memories of an Africa that he crossed right through backpack from Cairo to Accra. Mastery of unstoppable rhythms and musical modes, contemporary language of remarkable logic and clarity, cutting of sentences on moving tempos, development of ideas over the seconds and minutes, sequences and interlockings drawn up with a cord in all spontaneity. Immanent swing… In this joint manhunt, we are swept away by the time that fades, the tension which gradually rises in a crescendo of energies and volatile strikes played with unparalleled safety…. In this flight forward which ends up spinning indefinitely, an unstable, ephemeral balance is created, but of a solidity to any test, until Sabu gratifies us with a solo where the rhythmic cells dissolve in an air of samba… And the duo picks up again until the pianist turns alone around a few notes, continuously altering a pulse, an interval, a note, a saccade in the same spirit. A beautiful story that looks like eternity, questions, subtle interactions and majestic flights. Well placed hyphenations, intense sharing and a fountain of ideas, images, fingering pass at high speed with readability and flawless assurance, without downtime. The drummer comes straight out of the school of life of the AACM (of which he was a part a long time ago) and of incessant tours affirming an un feigned Africanity. With such a distinguished pianist, the pair is explosive. A great success of March 9, 1997 in Yamaguchi City which I highly recommend.

John Sharpe - Point Of Departure

The Lithuanian NoBusiness label’s licensing deal with the Japanese Chap Chap imprint has mined a rich seam of 1990s Japanese free music, and in The Aiki, has unearthed another glistening nugget. It presents an exciting encounter between pianist Masahiko Satoh and drummer Sabu Toyozumi, two improvisers of the first rank. Although both have been active exponents of the scene since its inception, their tandem appearances remain limited, and never before available on record. This unissued recording in crystal clear fidelity of a 1997 concert in Yamaguchi now sits alongside several other contemporaneous performances from each man made accessible through the project in recent years. Through the light and shade of two epic improvs, both principals unleash the tools of their trade: unfettered imagination; an innate sense of form; and playful animation. Part of the success surely derives from the fact that they draw on such wide hinterlands. Satoh’s untethered playing is informed by both his classical composition and swing and modern jazz exploits. His stylistically promiscuous flow periodically encompasses a bluesy right-hand embroidery, galloping classical formalism, and torrents of clipped notes which recall Cecil Taylor, all distilled into a unique personal amalgam. Only a brief pentatonic melody suggests any remotely Japanese flavor. Toyozumi calls upon his experience with like-minded spirits across the globe, and his notable sojourn in Chicago where he became the only non-American member of the AACM, to forge unusual textures into a dynamic and vibrant contrapuntal stream. Through a shifting focus on distinct elements of his kit he demarcates and orders. Even when he co-opts march cadences into a solo, it convinces as integral rather than intrusive, while in another feature he evokes the tuneful percussiveness of a Roach or Blackwell. Each feeds off the other in spontaneous syncopation. There’s an electrifying moment early on when Toyozumi suddenly accentuates a Satoh flourish on his rims. Later delicate piano prompts Toyozumi to accompany with hollow slaps on his body. Although “The Move For The Quiet” begins with unhurried quiet toms, inducing a ritual feel, it continues full of dramatic gushing rhythmically aligned unisons. “The Quiet For The Move” seems more conversational, with a stately character, at least to start, but quickly becomes wayward. Though there are tinkling and tapping downtimes in both cuts, it’s the thrill of the flailing full spate dash which proves irresistible. Happily rescued from the vaults, for those in the know this session will affirm the significance of its two sparring partners, while for those unfamiliar it argues a forceful case.

Kang Tae Hwan & Midori Takada: An Eternal Moment

By Ian Patterson
May 5, 2020
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Thanks to Lithuanian label NoBusiness Records, Korean alto saxophonist Kang Tae-Hwan is reaching a new generation of improvised music lovers. Eternal Moment captures the one-of-a-kind saxophonist with Japanese percussionist Midori Takada in a live performance at Café Amores in Hofu, Japan, in 1995. It's the third previously unreleased recording from the Chap Chap Records concert series of the 1990s to feature Kang. Prior to this came the Ton Klami trio's Prophecy of Nue (2017)—with Takada and pianist Masahiko Satoh—and then the solo outing Live at Café Amores (2018).

Seventy-seven minutes of freely improvised music may be a demanding listening experience, but the subtleties of this duo's interplay are fascinating. Mantra-like rhythms, minimalist passages and ever-shifting dynamics work a hypnotic spell. The alto saxophonist's circular breathing enables extended improvisations, evidenced to spectacular effect on the forty-two-minute opener, "Syun Soku." From the outset Takada establishes a drum rhythm of pneumatic precision, over which Kang whittles sound—whinnying, gruffly braying, or maintaining high-pitched tones that evoke electronic manipulations. Gradual variations in Takada's patterns, both in tempi and intensity, provoke sympathetic responses from the saxophonist. Theirs is a highly attuned dialogue—a language apart.

Since the 1970s Kang has been renowned for his solo performances, and the fifteen-minute, unaccompanied "Solo" is representative of his art. In contrast to the more hedonistic breed of free-jazz practitioners—those whose solos border on the ecstatic—Kang's riffing chatter, overblowing and animalistic sounds are often surprisingly gentle. Even his wilder flights are tempered by folksy melodic currents, and in this constant vacillation between coarse and lyrical—practically without pause—lies an absorbing, indefinable sort of tension.

The duo reunites on "Dan-Shi," with Takada's bubbling marimba the backdrop to Kang's slower melodic flow, carved from sustained notes that flirt with dissonance. A counter rhythm—Takada employs four mallets—instills greater urgency as the saxophonist's kettle-like 'whistling' is replaced by high-tempo staccato riffing. At about the mid-way point Takada switches to drums and cymbals, alternating between metronomic pulse, tumbling cascades and, most effectively, a silence that hangs heavily and dramatically over the saxophonist's high-pitched, sustained notes. From a pocket of silence, marimba and saxophone then tiptoe around each other, though bar brief, scurrying runs from Takada, the steam has gone from their dialogue, leaving the duo to make the softest of landings.

The 2017 reissue of Takada's seminal minimalist recording Through the Looking Glass (RCA Japan, 1983) on the WRWTFWW label has generated renewed interest in the Japanese percussionist/composer. It is to be hoped that this fine series of archival releases from NoBusiness Records will do the same for Kang Tae Hwan.

Kang Tae Hwan & Midori Takada - An Eternal Moment (NoBusiness Records, 2019) ****

 

By Keith Prosk

An Eternal Moment is the third in a line of previously unreleased Chap Chap tapes from NoBusiness documenting live performances of alto saxophonist Kang Tae Hwan in 1995, after 2018’s solo Live at Café Amores and 2017’s Prophecy of Nue with pianist Masahiko Satoh and percussionist Midori Takada (the Ton•Klami trio). The 77 minute recording expounds on the fruitful relationship of Kang and Midori, previously recorded in duo format for only a few minutes on Korean Free Music, while also capturing the saxophonist during the chrysalis of his style.

“Syun-Soku” is a ~40-minute set. Kang catalogs extended techniques: multiphonics; overtones; key clicks; gurgling; circular breathing; microtonality; breathwork; possibly voicings and mutes. Midori matches this timbral range by singling out aspects of the drum kit, a muted skin mimicking wadaiko, shimmering cymbals, the snap of the snare. The two players shift these timbral motifs out of phase with each other, unhurried. They instead communicate mostly through tempo and volume. So Kang’s bird chirps share time with both Midori’s wadaiko and cymbals, and Midori’s cymbals share time with both Kang’s bird chirps and key clicks, and so on. There are a few moments in which they sync, amplifying to transcendent, dramatic effect. These moments are typically signalled by Kang building skronky, snaking, spiritual, folky, multiphonic melodies reminiscent of Ned Rothenberg and Evan Parker, or a more petulant, resonant skronk, simultaneously glassy and metallic, like a shawm or buzzing fly recalling Michel Doneda, three players to which Kang often draws analogies and with which he’s recorded.

A kind of collage and personalization of these players’ styles continues in the second half of the fifteen minute “Solo.” It’s a noisier, less smooth, more austere, less jubilant version of his solo style than is present on 2011’s prodigious masterwork Sorefa, Kang’s last recording released before NoBusiness’ series. The first half of “Solo” is reminiscent of Steve Lacy’s “Ducks” - a piece that characterized a portion of the soprano player’s solo career - but in multitudes, frenzied and cacophonous, disturbed to flight.

The sidelong “Dan-Shi” begins with Midori on marimba, with a fluid rhythm that ebbs and flows in volume and tempo, accompanied by metallic feedback from Kang. Following a similar structure as “Syun-Soku,” though with more immediate communication in timbre, Kang transitions to a circular multiphonic honk after Midori transitions to a fully-utilized drum kit, and moves to soulful calls as Midori moves back to marimba responses.

Looking back on how I’ve described this music, it might seem derivative or formulaic. It’s not. It’s something to be heard and felt rather than described. And though it’s pieces may be traceable, the whole is distinct. Midori’s mastery of color provides perfect environments for Kang’s style that is often both playful and soul-wrenching. It’s a strong recording from the relatively under-recorded altoist, and one of the stronger recordings of this year for sure.

An Eternal Moment is available digitally, on CD, and on LP.

Ken Waxman - The Whole Note

If Japanese free improvisers are little known outside of a small coterie, imagine the situation for a Korean saxophonist committed to experimental music. Yet An Eternal Moment (NoBusiness Records NBCD 115 nobusinessrecords.com) is a 76-minute live 1995 Yamaguchi concert by Japanese percussionist Midori Takada and alto saxophonist Kang Tae Hwan, visiting from Seoul. One track is an extended solo saxophone meditation and the last, Dan-Shi, posits what sonic challenge would result if sax/drum duos like it mixed narrow, high-pitched, sometimes barely audible reed explorations, with gamelan-like marimba pops and sizzling cymbal hisses, besides regular drum beats. However, the key paring is the nearly 42-minute Syun-Soku, During the exposition, Hwan’s strained reed vibrations work up to lacerating split tones and down to narrowed ghost notes, then up to bagpipe-like overblowing timbre-smears as Takada hits tuned aluminum bars and shakes reverberating cymbals. Rhythmic drum taps spark thin chirps from the saxophonist, who soon seems able to simultaneously output a slim, whistling tone and more rounded coloratura variations. Reaching the first climax at mid-point, the narrative slows down to the extent that Hwan’s dissonant slurps seem to be being pushed back into his horn’s body tube. Crashing ruffs from the percussionist become non-metered whacks in opposition, helping to transform reed multiphonics into low-pitched trills that neatly affiliate with unforced cymbal patterns, leading to a finale that links splash cymbal power with retrained reed snarls. Politically and sociologically Asia is no longer the Mysterious East for most Westerners. These CDs could provide a similar demystification of sound when it comes to improvised music. 

Wadada Leo Smith / Sabu Toyozumi: Burning Meditation

By John Sharpe
April 18, 2019
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The Japanese concept of ma—a celebration of the space between things—is one to which trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith can readily subscribe. Space and silence are as important as sound in his conception. The weight given to the pauses between phrases stands out on this live recording from 1994 with Japanese drummer Sabu Toyozumi, which forms another winning installment in the Chap Chap series of archival recordings from Japan which see the light of day thanks to licensing to the Lithuanian Nobusiness imprint.

Smith's affinity with drummers is well known, manifest through a sequence of duets with the likes of Gunter Sommer, Jack DeJohnette, Adam Rudolph and Louis Moholo-Moholo. Seemingly the first was his 1986 session with Ed Blackwell documented on The Blue Mountain Sun's Drummer (Kabell, 2010), but Burning Meditation is one of the earliest and ranks highly. Like Smith, Toyozumi is similarly well-travelled having once spent a year in Chicago, becoming the only non-American member of the AACM in the process. Perhaps no surprise then that they share such a simpatico outlook.

Smith's stepfather was a Delta bluesman, and that spirit has never been far away from his playing even within more exploratory spheres. Smith's earthy lyricism pervades the open dialogue of "Creative Music 1 -Red Mountain Garden, Wild Irises And Glacier Lines," buoyed by Toyozumi's spare rumbles and crashes. The drummer serves as an equal partner. He effects changes in direction through dynamic shifts as much as Smith, evident in "Voices -Agano River Flow" where his assertive rhythmic patterns energize the trumpeter.

Smith briefly varies the textures with coloration on flute and koto. He also sings and plays twangy thumb piano on "There Are Human Rights Blues," a piece reminiscent of "Don't You Remember" from Kulture Jazz (ECM, 1992), sensitively backed by the drummer. When he wishes, Toyozumi possesses more of a jazz feel than many Japanese free drummers, perhaps as a consequence of his experience, and that meeting of minds is key to the success of this performance.

Wadada Leo Smith & Sabu Toyozumi - Burning Meditation (No Business, 2018) ****

 

By Stef

In 1992, Wadada Leo Smith and Sabu Toyozumi released "Cosmos Has Spirit" on the unknown and small Japanese Scissors label. Fans will absolutely love this album too, a concert recorded live on March 22, 1994 in Japan.

Toyozumi's Japanese output has been brought back under the attention in the last year by NoBusiness Records and by Chap Chap Records, releasing other performances dating from the 90s. We can only applaud both labels for doing so.

The American trumpeter has recorded with frequent intervals in a duo format with a drummer. Like on "Kulture Jazz" or "Compassion" with Adam Rudolph, or "The Blue Mountain's Sun Drummer" with Ed Blackwell , "Wisdom In Time" with Günter Baby Sommer, "America" with Jack DeJohnette, or "Ancestors" with Louis Moholo-Moholo, Smith's playing holds the middle between deep blues and spiritual meditation. Even if all these albums are really different in nature, they come highly recommended. In the last years Smith has sharpened his compositional skills and released albums with more serious weight and ambition, some of which are truly excellent, on other ones overplaying his hand a little, but that's how it should be. You don't get anywhere without taking risks and moving boundaries.

This performance of twenty-five years ago brings the direct artistic authenticity of his other duo albums, with long clear-toned trumpet improvisations, alternated with bluesy singing and playing of the bamboo flute or koto, the Japanese string instrument, or also kalimba and harmonica. Toyozumi is a perfect companion for Smith on this journey, hitting hard when needed, uninhibited, but equally modest enough to leave the stage to Smith on the quieter pieces.

The quality of the recording is excellent, with both instruments receiving the right balance and power: it's almost as if they're performing right next to you.

Even if some pieces get attribution of composition to either Smith or Toyozumi, it is clear that most are completely improvised. Fans of Smith will recognise the the jubilant tones of "Uprising", known from the last track on "Kulture Jazz" or the first track on "The Blue Mountain's Sun Drummer".

Through their music, both musicians explore the joy and sorrow of life, of what it means to be human, trying to transcend our fate by connecting to something grander and more simple. As mentioned in earlier reviews: music with deep roots and branches that reach to the sky.

It's another great addition to Smith's already rich and diverse catalogue. We can also thank the label for its effort to release it on both CD and vinyl, with the fromer being obviously longer with additional tracks, and in a different order. 

Fans of Wadada Leo Smith or Sabu Toyozumi should not miss this! 

Wadada Leo Smith / Sabu Toyozumi 
  Burning Meditation  
  (NoBusiness Records) 

  

Consciously wearing the title of athlete denotes that one excels with grace, confidence, stamina, and excellence — and, with some sports, the person is quick as hell and displays supernatural abilities beyond their peers. There is all that talk about "no I in team", but the catbird seat is assumed by being number one. As out of place as that paragraph is in a publication dedicated to "unusual and experimental music", it resonates through the history of so-called Free Jazz, a "genre" critics and fans often label "athletic" when a gig starts cooking. Performers need to demonstrate a virtuosic precision and supernatural speed to be esteemed among the greats. Faster, faster, more riffs...and then the thrilling impact and overwhelming chaos can fade into tediousness. There is flash and there is substance — and flashy substance / substantive flash — and these can be found at any pace. So when Sabu Toyozumi starts with rolls and cymbal crashes and Wadada Leo Smith's lips form speedy trumpet blurbs, the initial blaze of "Creative Music-1- Red Mountain Garden, Wild Irises and Glacier Lines" leads the listener to believe we're about to bear witness to development on a theme that only ends when the players put down their instruments (or with a skip button). Now do not get it twisted. This momentum slows to a coast, and the duo divides the number of notes to stretch out tension over several minutes. There is (literally) a lot of breathing room between Smith's pointillistic runs, melodic shrugs and sighs. Toyozumi changes tempo here and there and periodically dips into a bag of tricks throughout the sixteen-minute work; he breaks out a little woody stick pitter-patter, creates a wind chime-like flow with pan-rhythmic clamor (Smith answers this one with brisk flute lines), eases out some subtle tom-tom flams, stumbles into a lugubrious march, and sometimes simply remains silent. While "Burning Meditation — Uprising" lingers on this palette, the rest of the works explore more color and an expansive, inspired bent. Smith begins "Voices — Agano River Flow" with sloppy mouth-piece honks as Toyozumi strikes every piece of metal within arm's length; both fade out and return with several minutes of sultry trumpet song on top of a very serious focus on wind-up noise-maker. "Don Cherry, A Silver Flute Song" features at least three different woodwinds and melodies sampled from as many continents. The star of the show is the penetrating, stop-everything-you're-doing "There Are Human Rights Blues" with "blues" being an understatement. Accompanying himself on kalimba, Smith sings with much longing and sorrow-tinged hope, recalling legend Skip James — and his droning open D tuning — at his best. It's that awesome (and haunting). The beginning and end of closer "Stars, Lightening Bugs and Chrysanthemum Flowers" calls to John Cage's time-based compositions where two players and multiple events taking ample, independent strides may or may not meet at some point, the results being awkwardly organic and rich. Smith and Toyozumi developed their craft from years (and years, and years) of practice drills and conditioning minutia, but they choose to channel it, not scoring 50 points a game, but with 200-foot free throws from a helicopter and dunking with their feet, so to speak.

Leo Smith & Sabu Toyozumi "Burning Meditation" NoBusiness NBCD 110 (par Jean-Michel Van Schouwburg)

Choi Sun Bae: Arirang Fantasy

By John Sharpe
March 22, 2019
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A 1995 meeting in Tokyo between Korean and Japanese proponents of the art of free jazz furnishes another entry in the Chap Chap series of improvised encounters issued by the Lithuanian NoBusiness imprint. From Korea, Arirang Fantasy introduces trumpeter Choi Sun Bae, who also features alongside Japanese trumpeter Itaru Oki on Kami Fusen (NoBusiness, 2017), and celebrated percussionist Kim Dae Hwan, who was also a famous calligraphist, and performed with Butch Morris.

Completing the group are the Japanese bassist Motoharu Yoshizawa, who played with the likes of Evan Parker, Steve Lacy and Derek Bailey, and also featured in a series of duets with Barre Phillips on Oh My, Those Boys (NoBusiness, 2018) , and saxophonist Junji Hirose. Although billed as a quartet, they actually only all play together on the final cut which is preceded by two duos, a solo and a trio.

Both the trumpeter and saxophonist make extensive and musical use of extended techniques such as circular breathing. When not operating at the spluttery extremes, Bae inclines towards downbeat lyricism, and it's the contrast this offers when compared to his colleagues' more adventurous textures which gives the date part of its distinctive character. That can be heard immediately on the opening cut in a conversational duet with the woody sound of Yoshizawa's vertical electric bass. Although it's unclear if all the tracks are improvisations or whether there are some compositions, they are certainly on the same wavelength, particularly when Yoshizawa's hard-edged arco shadows Bae's plaintive trumpet.

It can also be heard on "Remember Bird" on which Hirose on tenor enters alongside Bae for a dirge-like canon in which they intertwine alluringly around a beautiful, regretful melody. But after five minutes they abruptly switch to a fractious exchange of staccato squawking. Then as Hirose continues his yelping tirade, Bae lays down a long unbroken folky line which the reedman eventually doubles. Structure on-the-fly or predetermined? Whatever it results in a wonderful listening experience.

Both bassist and reedman join Bae on "Korea Fantasy" which unfolds into unruly horn dialogue with creaking arco bass. Again the structure is both novel and pleasing. As Yoshizawa's subterranean groans persist, the horns keep up an unbroken hum from which one or the other periodically erupts.

Hwan appears for the first time on the solo "The Stream Of Time." A photo in the CD booklet shows him standing behind a personalized percussion set up which partly explains the idiosyncratic linear rather than polyrhythmic flavor he brings to the date. His thudding drums take on a ceremonial air, similar to traditional Japanese taiko drumming.

It's not until the title cut that the foursome unites for a piece notable for its sudden shifts in dynamics. In the midst of bass modulated with electronics, darting and droning saxophone and a thumping beat which doesn't swing, Bae plays what might be mistaken for a gospel air. Saxophone and trumpet take turns to loosely maintain that mournful undercurrent until the interchange peaks, before subsiding to ethereal gasps.

Non-Western elements combine with more recognizable aspects of the free jazz tradition to create this unusual and engaging session.

20 Ottobre 2018Impro Free, Jazz →

Choi Sun Bae QuartetARIRANG FANTASY

2018 - NoBusiness Records
[Uscita: 15/08/2018]

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Corea-Giappone  #consigliatodadistorsioni   

Veterano alfiere del jazz alla coreana, nonché delle vedute estremo orientali di una letteratura in musica non certo confinata alla fascia euro-statunitense, Choi Sun Bae è anche uno sperimentato ospite della scena giapponese, e di questo doppio passaporto artistico ben rappresentativa riesce la presente line-up, tonica doppia coppia coreo-nipponica di strumentisti vissuti e d’allure propositiva, funzionali alla visionarietà del leader. È questa una personificazione del free jazz in cui riveste non poco rilievo la sensibilità d’Oriente, e le cui trame belligeranti guadagnano setosità (sia pur ruvida) mercè un ordito di grande tempra poetica, che segna il complessivo andamento della performance. In particolare l’ispirato Choi Sun Bae scortica di smalti e cromature il proprio strumento d’ottone, su cui compie una cruda vivisezione dinamica esponendolo alle veementi energie di una rappresentazione dagli spiritati quanto efficaci toni teatranti. Conseguente, l’andamento dei cinque momenti dell’esperienza live esordiente nei crudi livori dell’urticante Blue Sky; nella successiva Remembering Bird la stringatissima brass-section si lancia in un’incursione non-imitativa sulle scie del grande Charlie Parker, ripreso più idiomaticamente dal sax quanto più liberamente in spirito dalla tromba; la tumultuosa liberazione delle percussioni lignee in The Stream of Time è interludio di controllata catarsi, che prelude l’esplosione d’acido colore nella tagliente caleidoscopìa di Korean fantasy, di fisicità veemente, che parzialmente si stempera verso la finale liberazione collettiva dell’eponima, coloristica Arirang fantasy.

Ennesima occasione per lodare l’operato strategico dell’attiva label lituana NoBusiness (che assai opportunamente con quest’incisione inaugura anche la propria piattaforma streaming Bandcamp), regolare opificio di autentiche punte di diamante dell’avant-garde jazz ed impro-free euro-statunitense (con non rare puntate d’attenzione sulle realtà estremo-orientali), operando anche recupero e post-produzione di sessions free di grande rilevanza del passato recente. Nel presente caso licenzia un’esperienza live di grande tensione espressiva, tracciata da un sentire forte dell’improvvisazione che non soltanto in filigrana denuncia prestiti espressivi dalla drammaturgia di segno orientale, e ai cui caratteri non difetta tensione visionaria e un certo aspro lirismo, così come levità e talento pittorico. 

Choi Sun Bae: tromba

Junji Hirose: sax tenore, soprano

Motoharu Yoshizawa: basso elettrico a cinque corde

Kim Dae Hwan: percussioni 

Alexander Von Schlippenbach / Aki Takase: Live At Cafe Amores

By John Sharpe
December 18, 2018
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The Lithuanian NoBusiness imprint has unearthed another gem from the vaults of the Japanese Chap Chap label. Live At Cafe Amores represents the third duet recording from the husband-and-wife pairing of pianists Alexander von Schlippenbach and Aki Takase, but the first where they share the same instrument. Such a situation was perhaps only possible for an entire concert because of their already strong relationship. But the supposed limitation of four hands at one keyboard doesn't constrain, so much as promote, ingenuity.

The piano isn't the only thing they share. Their repertoire for this 1995 date—which echoes that on the long-out-of-print Piano Duets: Live In Berlin 93/94 (FMP, 1995)—spans the history of jazz, demonstrating a particular fondness for the more offbeat nooks and crannies. That shouldn't be a surprise as, in spite of serious avant-garde credentials, their wide-ranging affections have subsequently been aired through releases as diverse as Schlippenbach's seminal deep dive into Thelonious Monk's collected works on Monk's Casino (Intakt, 2005), Takase's reworking of early jazz classics on New Blues (Enja, 2012), and their joint take on Eric Dolphy's oeuvre on So Long Eric (Intakt, 2014).

But even at this stage in their journey, they gleefully trample boundaries and genre distinctions. A prime example arrives in their account of Frank Zappa's "You Are What You Is" which they transform into a joyous barrelhouse romp. They also take an equally irreverent approach towards the tradition, their version of Charles Mingus' "Duke's Choice" opening with a brooding watchfulness conjured from ominous keystrokes and under-the-bonnet manipulations before the tune's rhapsodic contours are finally revealed. That segues into the locomotive fervor of "Boogie Stop Shuffle" given an especially lively interpretation.

The album includes two solo numbers which started each set of the live performance. "Jackhammer," which opens the disc, finds Schlippenbach in expansive mood, invoking the oblique lyricism of early Keith Jarrett as often as the energy and muscularity of Cecil Taylor, while Takase's shorter "Lulu's Back In Town" passes in a whirl of ragtime bounce.

Just because there are two people tickling the ivories, density doesn't result as a default. Monk's "Misterioso" offers a case in point—a jaunty rendition, which becomes increasingly playful but is still notable for its restraint—although they give two further numbers from Monk's canon more intricate readings. To confirm their embrace of the whole jazz spectrum, the disc ends on an uncompromisingly modern note, with the clanking pandemonium of "The Morlocks" accentuated by inserting a metal pizza tray into the piano's innards for the duration.

Such is the pair's empathy and capacity for quicksilver recalibration, that you could be forgiven for thinking just one player was involved, albeit one who was supernaturally talented.

Alexander von Schlippenbach & Aki Takase 
  Live at Cafe Amores  
  (NoBusiness) 

  

This husband-and-wife duo was recorded live in concert at Café Amores in Hofu City, Yamaguchi, Japan, in August 1995, but the album had never been released until this 2018 issue, as part of the NoBusiness label's Chap Chap series. Although Alex von Schlippenbach and Aki Takase have recorded together in various formats every few years, there are only two previous releases of them playing as a duo, Piano Duets — Live in Berlin 93/94 (FMP, 1995) and Iron Wedding (Intakt, 2008). As Live at Café Amores was recorded during a tour to promote Piano Duets — Live in Berlin 93/94, it is unsurprising that the two have several compositions in common, notably the Schlippenbach pieces "The Morlocks" and "Na, Na, Na, Na...Ist das der Weg?", Frank Zappa's "You Are What You Is" and Monk's "Misterioso" and "Existence", while neither shares any pieces with Iron Wedding. A significant difference between Live at Café Amores and the two previous duo albums is that on them Schlippenbach and Takase played two separate Steinway grand pianos whereas, because Café Amores was only big enough to accommodate one piano, on the Japan album the two played side by side. All the tracks on the previous album were duos, while Live at Café Amores includes a solo piece from each pianist, three-minutes of jaunty ragtime from Takase on "Lulu's Back to Town" and, in contrast, the thirteen-minute "Jackhammer" from Schlippenbach, on which he roams free, delivering an imaginative, energetic improvisation of which Cecil Taylor would have been proud. The duo tracks are the beating heart of this release, as they feature Schlippenbach and Takase locked together in performances that burst with energy, and easily match those on the Berlin album. Although seated adjacent to one other (with Schlippenbach at the lower end), they never seem to get in each other's way but straightaway, on "Na Na Na ist das der Weg", co-operate so effectively that they sound as if their four limbs are controlled by just one brain. If anything, their physical proximity aids communication and adds verve to their playing. The Zappa composition is taken at a pace which makes the Berlin version sound lethargic by comparison, a comment which applies to all the tracks where such comparisons are possible. The album's grand finale is an extended version of "The Morlocks", in which prepared piano figures prominently; generally, in Japanese venues, performances with prepared piano are hardly allowed but in this instance the club owner, Takeo Suetomi, gave permission and Schlippenbach and Takase put a metal pizza plate inside the instrument. As a result, "The Morlocks" begins with a sound which resembles a broken threshing machine and is just loud enough to drown out the notes being played. Gradually, the piano sound emerges from the maelstrom and, with the occasional hint of preparations, manages an exciting and highly musical performance. Altogether, a fine end to an album which is a welcome addition to the already excellent Schlippenbach-Takase oeuvre.

Kang Tae Hwan: Live At Cafe Amores

By John Sharpe
August 18, 2018
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South Korean reedman Kang Tae Hwan is one of the foremost exponents of solo saxophone in the Far East. While he has featured in groups, notably Ton Klami who can be heard on Prophecy Of Nue (NoBusiness, 2017), his conception is so singular that it may be best appreciated in undiluted form. Which makes Live At Cafe Amores a prime exhibit to further awareness of his extraordinary art. It's another in the Lithuanian label's ongoing series of unreleased Chap Chap label recordings licensed from Japan. His combination of multiphonics, overtones and sustained circular breathing recalls some of AACM reedman Roscoe Mitchell's solo outings, while he also sometimes suggests a more serene Evan Parker.

Kang thrills with astonishingly controlled use of overblowing to reveal the vibrating harmonics of his alto saxophone. What's all the more impressive is that it sounds completely purposeful but is achieved almost naturally without any ostentation. "Solo I" presents the perfect example of the rarefied atmosphere on offer. Kang sets out a sequence of deliberately-paced prolonged notes remarkable for their consistency and purity, spiced with split tones, in a meditative stream. He occasionally dips into a broad vibrato by way of variation, then later introduces a spiraling equivalent to a double time passage amid the continued drawn-out notes.

Pentatonic melodies create an Eastern vibe, and sometimes as in "Solo II" even evoke Scottish folk music, a feeling exacerbated by use of a skirling bagpipes-like pitch. Although Kang works with the same building blocks throughout, he succeeds in giving each of the five pieces a distinct flavor, no mean feat when working with such a self-imposed restricted palette, as many other improvisers have discovered to their cost. In "Solo III" he intersperses intermittent short dancing phrases and rhythmically-inflected oscillating frequencies, while in "Solo IV" he juxtaposes flutter-tongued wickering with the elongated tones.

At over 68-minutes it's an hypnotic if somewhat intense listen, so perhaps the most appropriate strategy is to sample one track at a time when in the mood to admire Kang's unrivalled mastery.

Tom Greenland - New York City Jazz Record

In Orson Scott Card’s short story “Unaccompanied Sonata”, state officials forcefully shield a prodigy from tainting influences like J.S. Bach so his music will remain utterly original. One can imagine similar isolation for South Korean alto saxophonist Kang Tae Hwan, if only because he doesn’t sound quite like anyone else. On Live at Café Amores, recorded in 1995 in Hōfu, Japan, he improvises five extended pieces replete with circular breathing and multiphonic techniques, similar to those used by more exuberant players in the free milieu, but appearing here with singular austerity. Often based on five- or six-note F minor scales, executed with a calm yet relentless airstream, each track is a deep meditation on changing timbres: gravelly burrs; overblown chords; hiccupping or galloping figures; low open tones set against high polyphonic blushes.

Stef Gijssels - Free Jazz Blog

His tone is fascinating, as are his skills in altering the timbre of his horn. Musically, he includes jazz and folk elements to build his improvisations which are all quite distinct and with a unique voice. He makes the rare combination of lengthy timbral explorations and multiphonics à la John Butcher, while at the same time trying to add soul to the process, more in the style of McPhee. The mood shifts between sad melancholy and wel-paced spirituality, with the occasional - albeit rare - outburst of nervous energy, making this a very entertaining album.

Barre Phillips & Motoharu Yoshizawa - Oh My, Those Boys! (NoBusiness, 2018) ****½

 

By David Menestres

Oh My, Those Boys! is an epic monster of double double bass, well a double bass, played by the mighty Barre Phillips, and a homemade electric five string vertical bass (as its described), played by Motoharu Yoshizawa. Recorded live at Cafe Amores, Hofu, Yamaguchi, Japan, the seventy-five minutes of Oh My, Those Boys! represents only part of that evening’s nearly three hours of music. A previous forty minute chunk from this evening was released in 1998 on Live “Okidoki” through the Chap Chap label. Oh, My Those Boys! is part of an ongoing dive into the Chap Chap vault of unreleased recordings

From the opening pizzicato section through moments of beautiful arco playing to moments of noise and the occasional vocalization, Oh My! covers an unimaginable amount of ground in it’s fifty-five minute runtime. The second track, Those Boys!, runs just over twenty minutes, but is even more extreme and haunting. Yoshizawa’s use of electronics mixed with Phillips’ more lyric bow work is inspired. The constant variation between two masters, and between electric and acoustic timbres, is delightful. The end of Those Boys! alone is worth the journey.

Oh My, Those Boys! is as fine an example of duet playing as you’re likely to hear. The work is as constantly shifting as a hike in a desert slot canyon. You don’t know how narrow or wide the path may be, you don’t know what’s lurking around the corner, you don’t know if you’ll be swept away in a flash flood or cooked to death under a blazing hot sun, but if you make it through to the end, you’re sure to have enjoyed the journey.

Barre Phillips / Motoharu Yoshizawa: Oh My, Those Boys!

By John Sharpe
May 29, 2018
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Expatriate American bassist Barre Phillips is the banner name on another in the Chap Chap series of improvised encounters from Japan issued by the NoBusiness imprint. He boasts an illustrious back-story. His Journal Violone (Opus One,1968) is reputed to be the first solo bass album, while Music From Two Basses (ECM, 1971) with Dave Holland was probably the first record of improvised double bass duets. So it's no surprise that the veteran bassist demonstrates such mastery of the form on this 75-minute 1994 live date which pairs him with Japanese fellow practitioner Motoharu Yoshizawa.

Phillips, who occupies the left channel on the recording, makes glorious and musical use of the whole of the instrument's resources. He loads his poetic lines with an austere beauty, but also supplements almost every note with a litany of tiny gestures -strums, harmonics or vibrato -which amplify the expressive possibilities. At other times he fosters a more percussive approach -tapping, twanging and sharp. koto-like plucking -in response to the moment's demands. Overall his playing is distinguished by an astonishing stream of sustained invention in which he rarely resorts to repetition.

It would be a generalization to say that Phillips follows a western melodic sensibility while Yoshizawa possesses a more textural style, but it gives an impression of how matters pan out. Yoshizawa, in the right channel, plays a homemade electric vertical five-string bass, which allows him to enhance the physical sounds with electronic effects. Fortunately he uses the facility sensitively, creating eerie yelping arco cries, or synthesized echoes at the peak of his phrases, setting challenges for Phillips rather than overwhelming him.

Their dialogue often proceeds by way of contrasts, but not by rote. As an example Phillips adopts a skittering pizzicato as a rejoinder to Yoshizawa's panoramic bowed sweeps at 23' in the lengthy "Oh My!" and then later at 25' when both are wielding the bow, he pitches high against Yoshizawa's low. Such illustrations also reveal how both men switch between fingers and horsehair at will in their exploration of the extended techniques possible on the bass. Yoshizawa's simple electronic manipulations become more prevalent on the 20-minute "Those Boys!" leaving Phillips' imagination center stage as he essays pure drama against a backdrop of washes, rumbling and rattling.

Bass aficionados will surely get a strong hit from this deep dive into the soundworld of the bull fiddle.

Michael Rosenstein - Point of Departure

The fruitful collaboration between the Lithuanian NoBusiness and Japanese ChapChap labels continues in fine form with this live bass duo recording from Barre Phillips and Motoharu Yoshizawa. The set, recorded in April 1994 at Café Amores, Hofu, Yamaguchi, Japan, is a consummate matching of two bass masters. Both began recording and performing solos in the ‘60s and they bring that steadfast probing of their instruments to this spontaneous duo. They also bring a deep-seated sense of musical investigation and collective discovery. Clocking in at 1 hour and 15 minutes, it is remarkable that the two pieces on this disc capture only part of the performance. The opening 40-minute duo was released on ChapChap’s Live “Okidoki” and the entire performance went for over three hours!

The disc begins with “Oh My!,” an expansive 55-minute improvisation. Immediately, one hears the contrast between Phillips’ acoustic bass and Yoshizawa’s homemade electric vertical five-string instrument. The darker, amplified tone and electronic shadings of Yoshizawa’s instrument provide a perfect foil for Phillips’ warm resonance. The two adeptly mine the dusky attack and reverberant sustain of their instruments, patiently building an intertwined dialog of plucked lines, tawny arco, scuttling overtones, and percussive counterpoint. Initially, the pace is measured as they settle in, then about 9 minutes in the momentum starts to mount with a passage of shuddering, sonorous arco. That acrobatic balance continues throughout the piece, with sections of brooding stillness that give way to lithe dynamism. Midway through, their twinned arco, tinged by Yoshizawa’s electronic treatments, becomes orchestral in depth and the richness of timbres and layering. But then, like a changeable sky, they open things up again with a strappingly active section of crackling bowed interchange. During the final section, Yoshizawa introduces Theremin-like sliding sonorities and skittering electronic oscillations, providing apt contrast to Phillips’ rounded tone and more angular attack.

After the almost hour-long tour de force of the opener, the second improv, titled “Those Boys,” starts with more open, spiky interplay. Yoshizawa’s electronic treatments percolate against Phillips’ most spunky, forceful playing of the set. Over the course of 20 minutes, the improvisation has a more restless edge to it, shifting course with mercurial verve. Phrases whiz by with bristling abandon as the two spontaneously steer the arc of the piece. Midway through, Yoshizawa caroms sinuous arco lines off of Phillips’ burred, groaning bowing, which push things off on a spiky trajectory. The final section launches into a flurry of countervailing bowed lines which amass into dense swirls, gradually decelerating to a poised calm. While the playing in this piece is often more boisterous than the opening improvisation, it never lacks a sense of careful listening on the part of the two players. This one is another winner from the ChapChap vaults and is a worthy addition to Phillips’ incredible string of bass duos with musicians like Dave Holland, Peter Kowald, Joelle Leandre, and Barry Guy.

Ken Waxman - JAZZWORD

With the dexterity and ingenuity internalized after years of music making, venerable double bass doyens, American Barre Phillips and the late Japanese Motoharu Yoshizawa combined for more than 75 minutes of contemplative improvisations. Recorded in 1994, as Yoshizawa (1931-1998) was feeling the impending end of his career as Japan’s most eminent Free Music bassist, the CD also serves as a prelude to the adroit creativity Phillips (b. 1934) would continue to exhibit into the next century,

Although close in age, the under-recognized Yoshizawa and Phillips had similar views on their chosen instrument’s substance. Recording with Derek Bailey, Kaoru Abe, Elliott Sharp and Masayuki Takayanagi, Yoshizawa also concentrated in solo bass excursions from the late 1960s on. Known as the first musician to record a wholly improvised solo bass session, Phillips has lived full-time in France since the early 1970s, and followed a wide-ranging career that began with playing Jazz with committed types such as Archie Shepp and Stu Martin; later establishing himself as one of Free Music’s paramount string players in large and small ensembles; and most prominently maintaining a decades-long trio association with two Swiss nationals, saxophonist Urs Leimgruber and pianist Jacques Demierre.

With that configuration years in the future, Phillips who plays conventional bull fiddle here, takes the roles of anchor, conciliator and formalist, keeping his forays within the expected range of the instrument. Meanwhile playing a home-made electric vertical 5-string bass, Yoshizawa is ostensibly the joker in this deck of cards, although his string-strategies aren’t that much different than Phillips’s.

A clear demarcation of their roles comes on the shorter – slightly longer than 20 minutes – track, “Those Boys”. Prepared with effects, it’s as if Yoshizawa’s instrument is signal processing twangs and rumbles from within its body, oscillating impulses that unfold alongside his pizzicato and Arco considerations. Swelling and shrinking, his detuned vibrations frame Phillips’ chunkier string narratives. Guiding the exposition through wood-rapping, while picking and bowing his string set at the same time, the American finally corrals Yoshizawa’s traffic-jam-like disruptions into a linear form that in the end turn to a showcase both splintered and soothing.

Less persuasive, “Oh My” sometimes goes in-and-out of focus as the two maintain an improvisation over almost 55 minutes. Here’s where the non-visual aspect come into play, Unable to watch the experience unfolding, what in real time would be revealed as cause and effect is sometime presented in a vacuum. Both players are too accomplished to let this trope continue for long. But from the time mallet-slapped string reverberations are produced at the be3ginning, the strategy involves one player advancing the narrative chromatically and the other decorating it with as many sul tasto squeals, spiccato jolts and torque high-pitched timbres as possible. One sequence climaxes when spindly shrills and tripled stops are subordinated to almost concert hall formality from bowed bass lines, though so closely attuned are the two that they could be a single person playing a multi-string Sardinian guitar. Slightly before the half-way mark a rapprochement is reached with one bassist thumping expected double bass timbres and the other spiccato feints in the cello range. While this sequence climaxes with a secondary melody and its extension created, most likely from Phillips, the sonic journey that leads to it involves the duo digging deeper and deeper into their instruments’ lowest pitches, with singular bell-like tone heard as they negotiate the journey one string at a time. Yoshizawa’s coiled-spring like warbles are distinctive, as are Phillips’ ambulatory pace that grounds the duet. Finally with the dark woodiness of both instruments’ concentrated into a blended continuum, the final section is revealed as serious-minded and majestic.

Top-flight instances of committed low-pitched innovators craft, the CD reveals much about in-the-moment dual improvising. Mercurial rather than melodic in application, true sonic rewards come in carefully following every moment’s twists, turns, upending and realigning of the presentation.

Pierre Crepon - New York City Jazz Record

This new archival release is the latest product of the sinuous history of the Japanese Chap Chap label, which issued a string of quality recordings in the ‘90s and returned in more recent years, notably for a series of co-productions with Universal Japan in 2015 titled “Free Jazz Japan in Zepp”. Lately, Chap Chap has been collaborating with NoBusiness, helping to cement the Lithuanian label as a premier destination for archival avant garde material. Oh My, Those Boys! adds to an early Chap Chap CD, Motaharu Yoshizawa’s Live “Okidoki”, which contained 40 minutes of the bass duet with Barre Phillips featured here, recorded in 1994 at Café Amores in the Southwest Japan city of Hōfu. The release contains two long free improvisations, the first one abridged to 30 minutes on the LP version, which would therefore be recommended only to hardened vinyl enthusiasts. Discographical traces suggests that Japanese free jazz first emerged around several distinct poles, Yoshizawa, who died 20 years ago this month, having been aligned with the more radical elements (tenor saxophonist Mototeru Takagi, guitarist Masayuki Takayanagi, alto saxophonist/guitarist Kaoru Abe) and later becoming an anchor in the international free improvisation network, working with such players as Americans pianist Dave Burrell and soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy and Brits saxophonist Evan Parker and guitarist Derek Bailey. Phillips hardly needs any introduction. The music conjures at once something very ancient and very new. The entirely free playing evokes echoes of imaginary primeval times predating musical rules and the thorough mastery displayed by the musicians encompasses the whole history of the bass, up to areas uncovered by the most recent avant garde. After an initial section of quietly plucked strings, the bows come out of the quivers. Phillips and Yoshizawa play together throughout. There are no alternating solos and, remarkably, no obvious interplay cues. The improvisation is truly synchronous, without ever clashing. The result is hardly explainable, mesmerizing music. The middle section of the first piece might be the most stunning moment of the recording, music any composer working with pen and paper would have been very happy to create. Yoshizawa’s instrument is a homemade five-string upright electric bass, judiciously ran through electronic effects, something which adds another parameter, throwing off the listener’s expectations. Yoshizawa’s work was featured in two other important series: PJL’s 70年代日本のフリージャズを聴く！, which brought historical Japanese free jazz releases to CD, and PSF’s J· I· コレクション, archival tapes from the early days of the scene. Like the Chap Chap recordings, both are highly recommended.

Ton-Klami: Prophecy Of Nue

By John Sharpe
December 23, 2017
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Another installment in the No Business Records series of unreleased Chap Chap label recordings licensed from Japan provides a fascinating glimpse of an unfamiliar soundworld. Prophecy Of Nue features the long lived group Ton-Klami live in concert in 1995. The band member best known in the West might be pianist Masahiko Satoh, who has recorded with reedmen Peter Brötzmann, Steve Lacy and Ned Rothenberg among others, but his colleagues percussionist Midori Takada and Korean saxophonist Kang Tae Hwan also merit attention.

The three lengthy improvisations are selections from a 90-minute performance and present the trio in a variety of guises. At the heart of the collaboration lies the contrast between the percussive sensibilities of Satoh and Takada versus the continuous outpourings of Hwan. The Korean demonstrates his mindboggling control of the overblown upper register in the first few minutes of the title track, as his other worldly alto whistle skates above an icy landscape of cymbal splashes and piano droplets. Bolstered by circular breathing his siren cry takes on an electronic quality, even as the accompaniment moves from processional to martial.

Some of the most exciting passages come as the intensity increases. Towards the end of the opener, Satoh and Hwan intermingle their twin unfurling lines, only for the pressure to grow yet further as Takada throws fuel on the fire. They conjure yet more high energy on "Incantation" through an exuberant combination of staccato yelping alto, flailing piano and taiko-like drum bursts.

Takada asserts her grace and elegance with a prancing marimba dance during "Manifestation," while Satoh ramps up the tension with one of those repeated figures which begs the questions: When will it stop? What happens then? The answer is an unexpected return to a delicate and mournful atmosphere of isolated sounds. That unpredictability sums up the attraction of this disc.

Itaru Oki: Kami Fusen

By John Sharpe
October 12, 2017
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This second instalment from NoBusiness Records collaboration with the Japanese Chap Chap label under the name of trumpeter Itaru Oki constitutes a real find. One of the pioneers of free jazz in his native country, Oki moved to Paris in 1974, subsequently working with many luminaries including saxophonists Steve Lacy, Noah Howard and Sam Rivers, and has been part of some acclaimed releases since, Symphony For Old And New Dimensions (Ayler Records, 2009) in particular comes to mind. But this date, recorded live on a return home in 1996, is also deserving of a wider audience.

Alongside Oki are his countryman Nobuyoshi Ino on bass and special guest Korean trumpeter Choi Sun Bae. The novel instrumentation might seem a stretch were it not for the excellence of the bassist who once collaborated on an album entitled Duet with AEC maverick Lester Bowie (Paddle Wheel, 1985). He does the heavy lifting here to keep the unit grounded. Although propulsive, supple and inventive, he still makes opportunities to interject dialogue with the soloists. Ino also contributes two compositions, along with a pair from Oki and two standards, ensuring that the program embraces the jazz tradition with abundant time and melody.

It's the fluid interplay between the trumpeters, and their interaction with the bassist which is one of the main plus points of this set. Oki exhibits a lyricism indebted to Miles Davis, but also snarls and splutters, and extends his scope with bamboo flutes. Choi is perhaps more adventurous and tonally wide ranging, his lines punctuated by whooshes and subterranean growls. As such they attain a pleasing balance between the honeyed and the acerbic, nowhere better displayed than on Oki's "Ikiru" which starts with expressive bleating by the muted brass, and then continues with the bass offering rich counterpoint to each trumpet in turn.

Each of the charts incorporates open elements, but does so in unanticipated ways. On "Pon Pon Tea" Ino's ambling bass upholds the pulse but also pursues skipping diversions into freeform, while the title track begins ominously with trumpet murmurs backed by a repeating arco figure, before developing an Americana-tinged hymnal feel. Oki takes "I Remember Clifford" alone and "Old Folks / Tea For Two" with only Ino for company. In comparison to the imaginative originals, the standards are played straight without irony and while they still bear testament to the tension between Oki's lyrical streak and his freewheeling ethos, they are ultimately less compelling.

Itaru Oki - Nobuyoshi Ino - Choi Sun Bae: Kami Fusen

By Glenn Astarita
May 23, 2017
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Prominent Japanese trumpeter Itaru Oki and bassist Nobuyoshi Ino recorded this album in 1996 at a Café in Yamaguchi, Japan, and Korean trumpeter Choi Sun Bae flew into town just for this gig. Consequently, no drums or chordal instruments enable the trio to work from an open forum with few if any restrictions, especially when considering the free jazz aspects. Yet, they do convey a cozy group-centric deportment on these works consisting of variable ebbs and flows amid bright and brassy breakouts and intricately devised inner-workings.

It's no surprise that the respective musicians have performed with well-known jazz artists over the years given their commanding technical faculties and broad knowledge of the jazz vernacular, evidenced by the three jazz standards integrated with Oki and Ino's adventurous compositions. The bulk of these works are unequal parts melodic, chatty, mellow, raw and tinted with balladry in choice spots, as the artists seamlessly slide into mini-motifs, complete with the trumpeters' growls and acoustic effects. Meanwhile, Ino is very busy but also very productive as he combines a fervent pulse with super- speed walking bass lines. Nonetheless, the trio sustains interest, largely by not adhering to one game-plan that is set in stone. Thankfully, they branch out while conveying warmth and harmonious accord during several movements.

Either Oki or Bae dish out a passionately crafted and straightforward rendering of Benny Golson's modern jazz classic "I Remember Clifford." And the hybrid jazz standard twofer "Old Folks / Tea for Two" begins with a candid interpretation of the primary theme but meticulously reconfigured, moving forward. Here, the artists' abstract deconstructions spin new light on the tried and true, abetted by alternating tempo changes and frothy exchanges. Overall, the trio sustains interest by letting the ball roll in different directions and allowing their imaginations to run rampant.

Itaru Oki, Nobuyoshi Ino, Choi Sun Bae - Kami Fusen (NoBusiness Records, 2017) ****

 

By Nicola Negri

"Kami Fusen" is the second volume in the ongoing collaboration between NoBusiness and Chap Chap Records, after the excellent "The Conscience"by Rutherford and Toyozumi.

This time, all the musicians come from the Far East: Itaru Oki was one of the first Japanese musicians to explore the free jazz idiom in the early Seventies; Nobuyoshi Ino comes from the same country and musical scene, even if he has often played in more traditional contexts; similarly, Korean trumpeter Choi Sun Bae has often worked in different, and often contrasting contexts.

Kami Fusen (“Paper Balloon”) documents the concert held by the trio in 1996 at Cafè Amores in Hofu, Japan, and comprises inventive originals by Oki and Ino, as well as classic jazz standards like "I Remember Clifford"or "Tea for Two". 

"Pon Pon Tea" opens with busy bass lines in direct contrast with the theme's long unison lines, the trumpets soon engaging in a frenzied exchange of high register runs and brief interlocking melodic statements. Ino's trajectories are hard to anticipate, a muscular solo might lead to a tight walking bass to support the call and response of the muted trumpets, or dissolve in disjointed stuttering. Oki and Choi follow the lead with exquisite aplomb, always ready to ride the rhythmic flow or explore less familiar terrains.

Ino's strong arco work delineates "Yawning Baku"'s structural frame, until the trumpets enter with a beautiful, relaxed unison theme leaning on an elongated bass vamp that gently pushes the piece forward.

"Ikiru" is a sonic postcard from the outer limits of sound, all clanging and shrieking, with flute and bass slowly building a menacing soundscape, eventually leading to a lyrical double trumpet solo over bowed bass.

"Kami Fusen" returns to the episodic, yet carefully crafted structures of the first pieces, adding unexpected latin flavors to the mix.

"I Remember Clifford" is a solo trumpet showcase for Choi Sun Bae, his ability to work around the melody, delineating the theme just enough to be recognizable, on full display; while the duo of Oki and Ino approaches the final medley of "Old Folks" and "Tea for Two" with equal doses of respect and inquiry. 

In a sense, innovation is the only constant in the jazz tradition, despite the conservative tendencies of the mainstream, and Kami Fusen brilliantly embodies this contradiction, as the musicians approach the performance with evident affection for the jazz language without losing their adventurous edge.

Itaru Oki – trumpet, bamboo flute

Nobuyoshi Ino – bass

Choi Sun Bae – trumpet

Kami Fusen : Itaru Oki, Choi Sun Bae, Nobuyoshi Ino (NoBusiness Records NBCD100)

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Michael Rosenstein - POINT OF DEPARTURE

This trio concert by Japanese musicians Itaru Oki and Nobuyoshi Ino along with the visiting Korean trumpet player Choi Sun Bae is a compelling example of the treasures that have been unearthed as part of a new series launched by the NoBusiness label in collaboration with the Chap-Chap label. Featuring recordings of previously unreleased concerts which took place in Japan in the ‘90s, the series captures a particularly fertile period of free jazz in Japan. Veteran Japanese musicians had fostered a strong scene, bolstered by alliances they increasingly made with like-minded community of players from Asia, America, and Europe. Over the course of a decade, visitors made their way to Japan to play in concerts organized by Takeo Suetomi and Sadamu Hisada, most of which were recorded by the assiduous organizers.

The pairing of two trumpets and bass is an inspired setting which Oki, Nobuyoshi, and Bae navigate with a rewarding blend of freedom and lyricism, calling on jazz standards, sonorous themes, and tight-wire interplay. Trumpet player Itaru Oki is probably the best known, having recorded with musicians like Noah Howard, Alan Silva, and Michel Pilz after his move to Paris in the mid-‘70s. He brings a brashness to the group, full of gruff smears, burred vocalizations, and fleet flurries balanced by full-toned melodicism. Choi Sun Bae’s trumpet style proves an effective foil, drawing on a melodious sense of line and phrasing while maintaining an open ear to collective interaction. Bassist Nobuyoshi Ino, a veteran collaborator with musicians like Masayuki “JoJo” Takayanagi, Aki Takase, and Masahiko Togashi, anchors the sound of the trio while adding a potent countering voice to the improvisations.

The program consists of originals by Oki and Ino along with readings of jazz standards, but a strict notion of originals and standards is eroded out of the gate. The unison trumpet parts that open the first cut “Pon Pon Tea,” state the theme and then explode into a three-way exchange, flowing in and out of melody and spontaneous counterpoint with a quick detour into “Mack the Knife” to close things out. Oki switches to bamboo flute for “Yawning Baku” and each of the players takes an extended solo on the plaintive, folkish theme before settling in to a slow simmer complete with walking bass line that would fit right into a ‘50s Prestige session. Ino’s title track, translated as “Paper Balloon,” is particularly notable for its song-like melody which the two trumpet players tag-team on with clarion grace across the bassist’s bounding pulse. Oddly, the closing “I Remember Clifford” and the ‘30s dance band oldie “Old Folks” with a coda of “Tea for Two” are, in many ways, the freest with the themes only peeking out more than half-way through.

Eight more recordings from this series are in the works, including collaborations with Wadada Leo Smith, Sabu Toyozumi, Alexander Von Schlippenbach, Barre Phillips, Kang Tae Hwang, Motoharu Yoshizawa, Mototeru Takagi, and others. This is a vital series worth catching.

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Paul Rutherford: The Conscience

By Nicola Negri
February 16, 2018
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La lituana NoBusiness Records è tra le etichette più significative nel panorama free jazz attuale, specializzata nella diffusione di registrazioni d'archivio, solitamente live, oltre che nella promozione di nuovi progetti. All'inizio del 2017, NoBusiness ha inaugurato una collaborazione con un'altra etichetta che condivide le stesse strategie, la giapponese Chap Chap Records. Attiva fin dai primi anni Novanta, Chap Chap ha prodotto sia nuovi lavori (tra cui il fondamentale Golden Hearts Remembrance di Wadada Leo Smith), sia preziosi materiali d'archivio (Sabu Toyozumi con Han Bennink, Motoharu Yoshizawa e Evan Parker, Mototeru Takagi).

Il primo volume di questa nuova serie rispecchia in qualche modo la natura della collaborazione stessa, in quanto presenta due musicisti provenienti da parti opposte del globo. Il compianto Paul Rutherford è stato tra i primi a praticare l'improvvisazione libera in Inghilterra nei primi anni Settanta, e ha contribuito a definire l'essenza stessa della free music in Europa. Sabu Toyozumi è tra i protagonisti dell'eccellente, e ancora poco conosciuta, scena free jazz giapponese dello stesso periodo, ed è tuttora molto attivo.

Paul Rutherford / Sabu Toyozumi - The Conscience (NoBusiness Records, 2017) ***½

 

By Nicola Negri

NoBusiness Records, based in Lithuania, is one of the most significant labels operating today in the field of free jazz, focusing on both new projects and archival, usually live, recordings.

In early 2017, NoBusiness inaugurated a new series in collaboration with another label that shares the same operational strategies, the Japanese Chap Chap Records. Active since the early Nineties, Chap Chap has released both new works (like the fundamental Golden Hearts Remembrance by Wadada Leo Smith), and valuable archival recordings (Sabu Toyozumi with Han Bennink, Motoharu Yoshizawa with Evan Parker, Mototeru Takagi).

The first volume in this new series is in a way a mirror of the collaboration itself, as it features two musicians from opposite parts of the globe. The late Paul Rutherford, an early practitioner of free improvisation in England in the early Seventies, helped define the very essence of European free music; Sabu Toyozumi is one of the protagonists in the excellent, and still little known, Japanese free jazz scene from the same period, and he's still very much active to this day.

The live recording contained in The Conscience comes from a concert held in 1999 at Cafè Jumbo in Tokoname, Japan, and it was originally meant by Sadamu Hisada, the concert promoter, as a simple documentation of the event, with no intention to release it. The sound quality betrays its origin, with a slightly uneven mix that sometimes risks covering the subtler aspects of the music, Rutherford’s nuanced playing in particular. However, these are minor deficiencies, and the recording quality is in general more than adequate.

Rutherford and Toyozumi already recorded together the year before, a session that would be later self-released by the drummer on the record Fragrance. This previous experience was clearly beneficial to the performance at hand: building on a common language based on free jazz, while pointing to even more abstract territories, the musicians demonstrate an immediate understanding of each other's playing, building on an urgent, unrelenting exchange of ideas.

The record consists of a constantly changing free-form improvisation, divided in five tracks that share the same basic traits. Trombone and drums often proceed in parallel directions, suddenly locking in tight rhythmic exchanges or diverging in abstract textural explorations. The absence of a clear direction is disorienting at first, but the richness of timbres and dynamics explored by the musicians guarantees the strong involvement of the listener, called to decipher the intricacies of their improvisational dialogue, its contradictions and mysterious flow.

The Conscience is a prime example of free music at its most daring, an ever-changing musical landscape where the only constant is surprise.

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Paul Rutherford – trombone

Sabu Toyozumi – drums

Ken Waxman - JAZZ WORD

Simpatico from the beginning, Rutherford and Toyozumi establish a mutually acceptable groove and exploit it throughout. The drummer’s clattering cymbal shots and focused textures are on side during the first and title track and very quickly the trombonist’s up and down slurs become more animated and wider, sliding and stuttering a collection of patterns in his narrative. Exhibiting bows to Native American-like tom toms pressure and reverberations from gongs, hi hat and miscellaneous small percussion instruments, the drummer sets up a continuum from which Rutherford’s can dig deeper into his horn’s innards to produce multiphonic vibrations with tones seemingly reflecting the metal as much as air and movement. Pedal tones soon give way to gutbucket-styled slurs, elephant-like bellowing and eventually a layered sequence where tone brushes against tone at near supersonic speeds. Keeping the illusion of rhythmic swing palpable, Toyozumi’s stentorian whacks shift to paradiddles and rolls climaxing with cymbal slaps to match the trombonist’s slide guffaws.

Percussion tones become more isolated and metallic sounding, though still holding to the groove when initiating a variant of call-and-response with the trombonist’s plunger work in the middle of the meeting; and then the concluding “Song for Sadamu Hisada” adds unexpected warmth to the sometimes technical tête-à-tête., Rutherford starts off with carefully cultivated brass vibrations escalating to assault-rifle-like firing speed. Balladic rather than bravado, his skill allows him to shrink his solo to pinpoint textures, but even as he does that, he pulls out sliding growls never abandoning linear thrusts. Toyozumi’s rattles, rebounds and pops make appropriate backing and fade in unison the trombone tones for a perfect finale.

2022年2月2日