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.
RICK COUNTRYMAN / CHRISTIAN BUCHER / TETSURO HORI
The Movement Radical (Chap-Chap Records CPCD-025; Japan)
Featuring Christian Bucher on drums, Rick Countryman on alto sax and Tetsuro Hori on acoustic bass. Recorded at the Big Apple in Kobe, Japan in July of
2023,
just a few months ago. Some say that “Free/Jazz is dead” and perhaps for them, this might be true. But those of us with open ears, hearts and minds know that
Freely Improvised music is an ongoing language that reinvents itself and thrives in the right situations. There appears to be an infinite variety of improvisers from all over the world, many of
whom are little known to the outer world except for a handful of friends. My job, my goal is to go looking for these pools of resistance, no matter where they may be. Hence, I keep finding an
assortment of gems, some within reach (at the store or The Stone or elsewhere) and some find their way here through snail mail or the internet. Although it has been going on for as long as
someone notices, I keep discovering new scenes in unexpected places. Alto saxist Rick Countryman hails from the Pacific northwest but has been living in the Philippines for a while. Over the past
four years, Mr. Countryman has had two dozen discs released on labels: FMR, NoBusiness and Chap-Chap with a handful of other strong players from Japan, the Philippines and other places. Swiss
drummer Christian Bucher has been working with Mr. Countryman for the past couple of years with bassist Tetsuro Hori on one previous disc.
“Between the Three” is first and is spinning quickly right from the opening. Tight, loose, free, intense, strong interplay, erupting in organic
bursts, the sax and drums are especially tightly wound up together as one sonic soaring force… The bassist is at the center of the storm balancing the extreme velocity. When the sax lays out, the
bass & drums work closer as a singular stream. Things are more laid back during the last section of this piece when they strip it down and build it back up for the conclusion, the bowed bass
creating a furious undertow. The second piece is called “Fluctuations” and this piece does fluctuate between sparse and more agitated sections. “Glass Matrix” has the trio stripping it back down
from spacious to rambunctious in a short period, again building to another focused frenzy. On “First Bird”, the trio slows down to a more skeletal, cerebral sort of space. The bass and drums
almost sound like they are playing a waltz with the bass picking up the pace at times. The way things flow together is what makes this disc so easy to be seduced by since we all are seeking to be
part of the natural stream of Positive Creative Energy. As the tempo increases, the intensity also grows, the trio soar together like a flock of birds on the breeze in their own tight formation.
What is interesting here is that this sounds like it was recorded live in a medium sized room, we can hear the room as well as the instruments with everything vibrating together. Lightning in a
bottle, a ball of energy held in our hands. Two dozen discs later and these folks still sound strong and inspired! - Bruce Lee Gallanter, DMG
reviewed by Yoshiaki Onnyk Kinno 金野ONNYK吉晃/ Jazz Tokyo
クリスティアン・ブッチャー (ds)
リック・カントリーマン (sax)
堀 哲郎 (db)
「失われたのか、我々のリンガフランカは」
既にJazz Tokyo においては、サブ豊住との共演を通じて、その存在感を知らしめているアメリカ人サックス奏者、リック・カントリーマンが、新たな録音を「ChapChapレコード」を通じて発表した。録音は神戸の「ビッグ・アップル」。
CHRISTIAN BUCHERは69年生まれ。アカデミックな経歴のドラマーで、その演奏を聴くと実に手堅いサウンドを出している。90年代からプル・ローフェンスやビリー・コブハムのワークショップに参加、ピエール・ファヴルに師事した。演奏活動の範囲や共演は世界中におよび、詳細は下記のサイトをご覧頂きたい。アルバムも多数出しており、カントリーマンとの共演も長い。
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)
Čitaj mi!
23:05
Improvizorijum
Album „Triangle – Live at Ohm, 1987” Petera Brecmana i Sabua Tojozumija
U nizu diskografskih izdanja koja su se pojavila u poslednje vreme, nakon prošlogodišnje smrti nemačkog fri-džez titana, tenor saksofoniste Petera Brecmana, objavljeni su
i snimci proistekli iz saradnje Brecmana i japanskog bubnjara Sabua Tojozumija. Večeras predstavljamo osebujni zvučni svet ovih umetnika koji je nastao u Tokiju, a
objavljen je u saradnji NoBusiness Records i Chap Chap Records, na kompakt-disku sa nazivom Triangle –
Live at Ohm, 1987. Nesumnjivo se radi o autorima različitog osećaja za vreme i prostor, Brecmana koji ovde pokazuje i svoju liričnu stranu, pored nikada skrivane
potrebe za katarzičnom dekonstrukcijom klasičnih harmonskih struktura; on se graciozno i dirljivo predaje baladi, bluzu, te iz te napetosti proizilaze njegov ton, njegov
glas i njegov zvuk. Tojozumi se svojim ritmovima, ukorenjenim u japanskoj bubnjarskoj tradiciji, suprotstavlja Brecmanovom stilu, uspostavljajući tako izazovnu zajedničku
muzičku magiju.
Autor emisije Milenko Mićanović
Peter Brotzmann / Sabu Toyozumi: Triangle – Live At OHM, 1987
Triangle—Live At OHM, 1987 is a recording of Peter Brötzmann in Japan. Here he is performing with master free jazz drummer Sabu Toyozumi. This is not the musicians first meeting. The pair have released a couple nearly impossible
to find discs such as Live In Japan 1982 (Improvised Company, 1999) and Live In Okayama 1987 (Improvised Company, 2000) the latter CD with Derek Bailey.
Toyozumi's approach here is similar to that of pedal steel guitarist Heather Leigh. Like Leigh, he does not go toe-to-toe with Brotzmann in an attempt to compete with the
saxophonist's muscular sound. His approach—that has a definite effect on the saxophonist—is to maintain a steady attack that centers on Brotzmann, often softening the great man's approach.
Toyozumi's hushed pulse is copied by the saxophonist on the title track. Even as Brotzmann explores the upper register of his horn, the drums hesitate and so does the saxophonist. With Toyozumi
employing space in his playing, we can assume this influences Brotzmann's decision to swap his tenor saxophone for tarogato. "Valentine Chocolate" "Toh-ro," and "Depth Of Focus" feature the
instrument, although Brotzmann often switches between the two. The one instance where the two musicians square off is the brief "Membrane System." Toyozumi's furious drumming ignites a signature
machine gun attack. But wait, the drums guide the saxophone into a gentle and quiet conclusion. There is magic here, evidenced by the respect these two masters have for each other's music.
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 (Schwarzwaldfahrtand 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 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
!
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.
Salt peanuts
KIM DAE HWAN / CHOI SUN BAE
«Korean Fantasy»
NOBUSINESS, NBCD 161
Jeg er ikke sikker på om det er så mange som er inneforstått med at det i Sør-Korea finnes en rekke utmerkede og fritt improviserende musikere i landet, som sjelden får muligheten til å vise
seg fram her i Europa.
To av disse er trommeslageren Kim Dae Hwan og trompeteren Choi Sun Bae, som vi møter på dette konsertopptaket fra Japan den 26. november 1999. To usedvanlig «friske» improvisatorer i fri
utfoldelse i tre lengre «strekk» med titlene «FM-1», «FM-2» og «FM-3».
Når jeg ønsket å finne ut noe om disse musikerne, så slet jeg litt. Kim Dae Hwan har vært med på en rekke plateinnspillinger i Sør-Korea og Japan, mens Choi Sun Bae, er det ikke så veldig mye
å hente på internettet annet enn at de to har spilt mye sammen, og at han har spilt med Alfred 23 Harth.
Det er ikke så mange her i vesten som har forsøkt å undersøke den stilen disse musikerne opererer innunder, som står i stor kontrast til landets kommersielle og lønnsomme KPop og dens
avleggere. Det er i den kontrasten at musikken til disse frittgående musikerne spesielt verdifull og viktig.
Den koreanske trommeslageren Kim Dae Hwan, som har gjort plate med bassisten Barre Phillips, døde 70 år gammel i 2003, mens trompeteren Choi Sun Bae, som nå har passert 80 år og som ofte
spilte med Alfred 23 Harth i Korea, tilbrakte mesteparten av karrieren i japanske, musikalske konstellasjoner. I dette duosamarbeidet vi en forestilling i østlig tradisjon, som kobles tett på
frijazzens muligheter og utfordringer, og som ender opp i et originalt og spennende landskap, som tilhengere av frittgående musikk virkelig bør sjekke ut.
Det starter med solo trompet, i et litt rått og tøft landskap før trommene kommer inn og overtar for en periode. Choi Sun Bae kommer inn igjen – litt i bakgrunnen, mens Kim Dae Hwan kjører på
med et (nesten) tradisjonelt trommespill, men med adskillig mer frihet enn det som er vanlig fra trommeslagere vi er vant til å høre fra mer tradisjonell musikk fra Korea.
Etter hvert kommer Choi Sun Bae inn på munnspill, som på en fin måte kommenterer trommespillet, som bare fortsetter ufortrødent videre. Og vi imponeres over spillet. Det nærmer seg
paradetromming, men er mye friere og tøffere i anslagene, før han tar en pause, og vi får en solosekvens på trompet. Her har han lagt til noen effekter på trompeten, som gjør den særpreget,
før trommene igjen kommer inn og «bryr seg».
Og slik fortsetter de gjennom den lange åpningssekvensen, før trommene åpner andrestrekket med trompeten lurende i bakgrunnen. De veksler på å ta «føringen», og hele veien får vi virkelig
oppleve to utmerkede og spennende musikere.
Jeg vet ikke hvem man skal sammenligne trommespillet med her, for det er hele veien såpass originalt og spenstig, og knyttet til den tradisjonelle trommemusikken fra Korea. Men trompetspillet
kan relateres delvis til Miles Davis, men kanskje enda mer til Wadada Leo Smith og flere av de trompeterne som befinner seg på frijazzarenaen i dag. Men i 1999, da dette opptaket ble gjort,
var det ikke så veldig mange som spilte som disse to.
Og hele veien er dette utrolig spennende musikk og, ikke minst, kommunikasjon. Det er to musikere som lytter til hverandre, utfordrer og forsøker å finne en felles løsning de kan gå for. Og
det synes jeg de lykkes usedvanlig godt med på denne utgivelsen.
Jan Granlie
Kim Dae Hwan (drums), Choi Sun Bae (trumpet, harmonica)
NoBusiness Records NBCD 157 高木元輝、金大煥、崔善培：正心正道
Maciej Lewenstein -
NoBusiness continues the fantrastic Chap Chap Series, and releases another classic of Japanese, or better to say East Asian free jazz. This time it is an atmospheric recording of the concert
by the super trio of Mototeru Takagi, Kim Dae Hwan, & Choi Sun Bae, recorded in Café Amores in Hofu City in Japan in Summer 1995.
They start with a duo "SeishinSeido" by Mototeru Takagi and Choi Sun Bae, with absolutely phenomenbal dialogues, consonance and dissonances of the tenor saxophone and trumpet. This is
followed by Mototeru's solo "Remember". Side B of the LP starts another solo by Choi Sun Bae this time. The set ends with the absolute highlight: a powerful trio track "Step by Step". Great
document of the fame and glory of free jazz in Japan!
Stuart Broomer - New York City Jazz Record
Seishin-Seido documents a meeting between two branches of Asian free jazz, the
Korean and the Japanese, captured during a 1995 visit to Japan by late drummer Kim Dae Wan (62 at the time) and trumpeter Choi Sun Bae (then 55). They are heard here with
tenor saxophonist Mototeru Takagi (who died in December 2002 at ~60) in a performance from Café Amores in Hofu City (where a number of Chap-Chap albums were recorded).
Each has a strongly developed instrumental voice and the performance gives free rein to a duet and solo pieces.
The opening title track is a dovetailing duet by Choi and Takagi, whose stylistic compatibility is immediately evident, though their
personalities tend to invert the usual free jazz balance of tenor saxophone and trumpet. Takagi has a strong Albert Ayler influence in his wandering, vocalic lines, but
with a
slightly muffled, personal sound; he may be the gentlest of post-Ayler tenor saxophonists. Choi, for his part, is as aggressive as a
free jazz trumpeter can get, with whistling, bending runs descending from the upper register, a genuine wake-up call.
There then follows a series of three solo pieces that take up approximately half of the 67-minute running time. The first and longest
is Kim’s 14-minute “Natural Sound”, a masterpiece of rhythm, timbre and mood, which makes the most of his unusual kit: played standing, on the evidence of booklet
photographs, and employing what appears to be a horizontal bass drum, another resembling a shallow timpani and a large cymbal played with sticks and mallets in each hand.
At other points in the performance, he shows his flexibility by employing woodblocks as a principal instrument. The solos by Takagi and Choi are similarly rich: each has a
keen formal sense near his expressive core.
The full trio eventually arrives with “Ethyopia” and it is a genuinely interesting ensemble, the absence of bass or keyboard giving
it a kind of expressionist minimalism matched to an air of necessity, something that emphasizes further the Ayler connection and also a corresponding sense of traditional
New Orleans bands. The concluding “Step by Step” develops with short echoing horn phrases over turbulent, complex percussion, with saxophone approaching trumpet’s
intensity. There is, however, a sustained and shifting upper-register wail in which trumpet fully enters the complex, flexible range of a reed instrument.
The performance appears to have been sufficiently inspiring for Takagi later to play with Choi and others in Korea.
Mototeru Takagi / Kim Dae Hwan / Choi Sun Bae: Seishin - Seido
Seishin-Seido represents another heads up on the depth of the Japanese free jazz community from the Lithuanian NoBusiness
imprint as part of its partnership with Chap Chap Records. They raid the archives for a live date from 1995 in the southern city of Hofu, which actually unites two Korean
musicians, trumpeter Choi Sun Bae and percussionist Kim Dae Hwan with a Japanese tenor saxophonist of Korean
descent, Mototeru Takagi. Their credentials are good. As doyens of the scene, they have
often individually collaborated with visiting improvisers, including bassist Barre Phillips, reedman Evan Parker, drummer Milford Graves and guitarist Derek Bailey among others.
However, of the six cuts, three are solo, one for each participant, two are duets and only the final eight-minute track features the threesome together. Takagi's raw yet
burnished tone and controlled delivery recalls John Gilmore, not least in his concentration on the middle and lower registers,
although blues inflections are largely absent. In a duet with Bae on the opening title cut, he sculpts short phrases around which the trumpeter wraps his sinuous
slithering lines in an engrossing unhurried dialogue. A listener might be hard-pressed to geographically locate the pairing as there is nothing distinctively Japanese (or
Korean for that matter) about their interaction.
Hwan's unaccompanied "Natural Sound" does have a feel of somewhere other than North America or Europe. That is partly due to his technique. The sleeve photo shows him
standing to play wielding two or more sticks in each hand, which favors a linear rather than polyrhythmic approach. But this is also partly due to his self-contained
bursts of gong or drum, distinguished by variations of volume, timbre and urgency, which often suggest a ritual dimension.
Alone on "Life Cycle" Bae waxes reflective, his sustained tones and reveille-like fanfares shaded by breathy vibrato, which he contrasts with detours into whistles,
squeals and other timbral distortions. Takagi tends similarly meditative on "Remember," tender and fragmented, although occasionally songlike. But Hwan's involvement, even
though he does not supply a pulse, inclines to add more impetus and momentum, stoking Takagi's stirring tenor cries on "Ethyopia" and hustling both saxophone and trumpet
on the closing "Step By Step," latterly in explosive call and response with Bae.
Both Takagi and Hwan have since died and Bae is now 80 years old, so their meeting won't be repeated. It nonetheless merits attention from those looking for a different
slant on the sometimes familiar fire music tropes.
Mototeru Takagi/Kim Dae Hwan/Choi Sun Bae
January 3, 2023
Seishin-Seido
NoBusiness NBCD 157
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)
Maciej Lewenstein -
NoBusiness continues the fantrastic Chap Chap Series, and releases another classic of Japanese, or better to say East Asian free jazz. This time it is an atmospheric recording of the concert by
the super trio of Mototeru Takagi, Kim Dae Hwan, & Choi Sun Bae, recorded in Café Amores in Hofu City in Japan in Summer 1995.
They start with a duo "SeishinSeido" by Mototeru Takagi and Choi Sun Bae, with absolutely phenomenbal dialogues, consonance and dissonances of the tenor saxophone and trumpet. This is followed by
Mototeru's solo "Remember". Side B of the LP starts another solo by Choi Sun Bae this time. The set ends with the absolute highlight: a powerful trio track "Step by Step". Great document of the
fame and glory of free jazz in Japan!
Stuart Broomer - New York City Jazz Record
Seishin-Seido documents a meeting between two branches of Asian free jazz, the Korean
and the Japanese, captured during a 1995 visit to Japan by late drummer Kim Dae Wan (62 at the time) and trumpeter Choi Sun Bae (then 55). They are heard here with tenor
saxophonist Mototeru Takagi (who died in December 2002 at ~60) in a performance from Café Amores in Hofu City (where a number of Chap-Chap albums were recorded). Each has a
strongly developed instrumental voice and the performance gives free rein to a duet and solo pieces.
The opening title track is a dovetailing duet by Choi and Takagi, whose stylistic compatibility is immediately evident, though their
personalities tend to invert the usual free jazz balance of tenor saxophone and trumpet. Takagi has a strong Albert Ayler influence in his wandering, vocalic lines, but with
a
slightly muffled, personal sound; he may be the gentlest of post-Ayler tenor saxophonists. Choi, for his part, is as aggressive as a free
jazz trumpeter can get, with whistling, bending runs descending from the upper register, a genuine wake-up call.
There then follows a series of three solo pieces that take up approximately half of the 67-minute running time. The first and longest is
Kim’s 14-minute “Natural Sound”, a masterpiece of rhythm, timbre and mood, which makes the most of his unusual kit: played standing, on the evidence of booklet photographs,
and employing what appears to be a horizontal bass drum, another resembling a shallow timpani and a large cymbal played with sticks and mallets in each hand. At other points
in the performance, he shows his flexibility by employing woodblocks as a principal instrument. The solos by Takagi and Choi are similarly rich: each has a keen formal sense
near his expressive core.
The full trio eventually arrives with “Ethyopia” and it is a genuinely interesting ensemble, the absence of bass or keyboard giving it a
kind of expressionist minimalism matched to an air of necessity, something that emphasizes further the Ayler connection and also a corresponding sense of traditional New
Orleans bands. The concluding “Step by Step” develops with short echoing horn phrases over turbulent, complex percussion, with saxophone approaching trumpet’s intensity. There
is, however, a sustained and shifting upper-register wail in which trumpet fully enters the complex, flexible range of a reed instrument.
The performance appears to have been sufficiently inspiring for Takagi later to play with Choi and others in Korea.
Yuji Takahashi / Sabu Toyozumi: The Quietly Clouds And A Wild Crane
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.
YUJI TAKAHASHI / SABU TOYOZUMI
«The Quietly And A Wild Crane»
NOBUSINESS, NBCD 156
Mer musikk fra NoBusiness sin serie «Chap Chap serties», og denne gangen med to ytterst spennende musikere fra Japan. Yūji Takahashi (高橋 悠治) født 21. september 1938 er komponist, pianist,
kritiker, dirigent og forfatter. Han studerte under Roh Ogura og Minao Shibata ved Toho Gakuen School of Music. I 1960 debuterte han som pianist ved å fremføre Bo Nilssons «Quantitäten». Han
mottok et stipend fra The Ford Foundation for å studere i Vest-Berlin under Iannis Xenakis i 1962 og ble i Europa til 1966, og senere dro han til New York på grunn av et Rockefeller
Foundation-stipend fram 1972. Han grunnla ‘Suigyu Gakudan’ (Water Buffalo band) i 1978 for å gjøre internasjonale protestsanger kjent, særlig med utgangspunkt i Thailand, men hovedsakelig
asiatiske sanger, som ble publisert i det månedlige tidsskriftet Suigyu Tsushin.
Som pianist har han gjort en lang rekke moderne, klassiske verk, så som alle verkene til Arnhold Schønberg, Anton Webern og Alban Berg,musikk av Messiaen, John Cage, Cornelius Cardew, og
flere andre samtidsmusikalske mestere, samtidig som han også har gjort Johan Sebastian Bach sin The Art of the Fugue, Eric Saties soloverker og Rossini.
Yoshisaburo «Sabu» Toyozumi (豊住芳三郎) ble født i Yokohama i 1943, og er en av den lille gruppen av musikalske pionerer som utgjorde den første generasjonen som spilte fri improvisasjonsmusikk i
Japan. Som improviserende trommeslager spilte han konserter og spilte inn plater med mange av nøkkelfigurene i japansk frimusikk inkludert de to hovedfigurene i den første generasjonen,
Masayuki Takayanagi og Kaoru Abe fra slutten av 1960-tallet og utover. Han er en av svært få i denne kretsen som fortsatt lever og er engasjert i å spille denne musikken i dag. Toyozumi er
med på en rekke innspillinger med mange av de mest spennende japanske og internasjonale improvisasjonsmusikerne, som Derek Bailey, Mototeru Takagi, Misha Mengelberg, Peter Brötzmann, Keiji
Haino, Otomo Yoshihide, Tom Cora og Fred Van Hove. I 1971 ble han det eneste ikke-amerikanske medlemmet av Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM)), og han dedikerte sin
første plate som leder, Sabu – Message to Chicago, til komposisjoner av AACM-medlemmer, og turnerte i 1992 og spilte inn med AACM-trompetisten
Wadada Leo Smith. Han har tidligere også gjort duoplaten Hokusai med saksofonisten Mats Gustafsson, en plate som er
anmeldt HER.
På dette møtet fra 16. mars 1998 fra Yamaguchi City i Japan får vi to fritt improviserte «strekk» fra de to: «Lovely Silver 6000 km», som er en ettertenksom og mediterende sak, hvor de to tar
seg god tid, de bruker pausene i muisikken som elemter i improvisasjonen, og innimellom svinger det relativt godt fra de to, selv om musikken er omtrent så langt fra den musikken vi vanligvis
regnes som svingende. Takahashis pianospill har nær tilknytning til mye av det vi har hørt fra Misha Mengelberg, mens Toyozumi spiller relativt gjentagende på tam-tam. Men selv om dette er
relativt «fremmed» musikk fascineres jeg av hvordan de to kommuniserer og bringer den mer tradisdjonelle jazzen inn i sitt originale, musikalske landskap.
Det andre sporet har fått tittelen «Shoulder Blade and Hip Joint» og er, om mulig, enda mer «utsvevende og fri. Her er det Toyozumis bruk av trommer som leder an, og jeg før en følelse av at
dette kunne vært musikk svenske Sven-Åke Johansson kunne ha laget. Og når Takahashi kommer inn, er dette som et møte mellom Johansson og Sten Sandell eller Mengelberg. Pianomusikken er
repeterende med et pianospill som, når man følger nøye med, utvikler seg ørlite fra repitisjon til repitisjon, og innimellom tar de seg en liten pause for å gå løs på en ny idé. Noe kan
nesten høres ut som noe Edvard Grieg har laget, andre ting noe som kan ligne på Thelonious Monk, Mengelberg, Alexander von Schlippenbach eller andre med de samme ideene.
Dette er blitt en original og spennende innspilling, som NoBusiness skal ha stor takk for at de har utgitt. Hvis ikke hadde vi aldri fått muligheten til å høre disse to spennende musikerne.
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
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.
ITARU OKI QUARTET | MOTOTERU TAGAKI QUARTET
«Live at Jazz Spot Combo 1975» |
«Live at Little John, Yokohama 1999»
NOBUSINESS, NBCD 143 / NBCD 144
Siden den norske jazzen fikk et solid løft etter Nils Petter Molværs innspilling «Khmer» og Bugge Wesseltofts New Conception of Jazz», ble verden virkelig oppmerksom på jazzen fra de lange,
merkelige, rike landet opp mot Nordpolen. Det strider egentlig mot all fornuft at et land som ligger der det gjør, skulle bli en viktig leverandør av spennende, ny jazz og improvisert musikk
da det skjedde. Selvsagt har rikdommen en del å si, og uten Utenriksdepartementets jazzvenn, Sverre Lunde, er jeg ikke sikker på om at den samme revolusjonen hadde foregått. For det var (og
kanskje også er) mye penger i den norske jazzen sett i sammenligning med en del andre land i Europa. Lunde hadde tidligere vært utstasjonert i Japan for DU, og hadde opparbeidet seg et
nettverk som rekk helt opp i keiserpalasset. Omtrent på samme tid begynte Vestnorsk jazzsenter, ved Bo Grønningsæter og Lars Mossefinn og arrangere de årlige «JazzNorway in a Nutschell», en
internasjonal samling av journalister, festival- og klubbarrangører og andre til showcase-konserter i forbindelse med Nattjazz i Bergen (i hovedsak).
Og i og med at det skjedde omtrent på samme tid, ble eksporten av norske jazzmusikere styrket, og «alle» musikerne var mer eller mindre jevnlig i Østen, og særlig i Japan og Sør-Korea. Noen
ble også invitert med jevne mellomrom til den fiune festivalen i Penang i Malaysia og andre steder.
Og selv om eksporten til Østen, med reisepenger i lommen fra Det Kongelige Norske Utenriksdepartement, var ikke eksporten av musikere fra Østen til Norge på langt nær like stor. Derfor er
fremdeles den ytterst aktive, østlige jazzscenen relativt ukjent for de fleste av oss. Men det har plateselskapet NoBusiness i Vilnius gjort noe med de senere årene. De har vært ytterst
dyktige til å utgi, spesielt, liveopptak fra særlig Japan , noe de to innspillingene som nå har surret og gått på spilleren en stund er gode beviser på.
Vi starter i 1975. Stedet er Jazz Spot Combo i Fukuoka City, datoen er 7. desember, og på scenen står trompeteren og fløytisten Itaru Oki (沖至), altsaksofonisten og fløytisten Yoshiaki
Fujikawa (藤川義明) bassisten Keiki Midorikawa (翠川敬基) og trommeslageren Hozumi Tanaka (田中保積 ). Det er Oki som er leder av bandet, en musiker som ble født i 1941 og forlot vår verden i 2020. Han
startet med studier av kotoen, med moren, som var profesjonell kotospiller, som lærer. I 1955 plukket han fram trompeten, og spilte aktivt i diverse band på skolen, og da han studerte til
arkitekt ved universitetet i osaka, spilte han med forskjellige dixieland-orkestre. Men etter hvert, etter at han hadde hatt flere av de ledende, japanske musikerne som lærere, dro han til
Europa og spilte med musikere som Art Farmer, Maynard Ferguson, Noah Howard, Lee Konitz, Steve Lazy og Sam Rivers.
Og allerede fra første tone innser vi at musikere fra «solens rike» var langt fremme i utviklingen av den frie improvisasjonsmusikken allerede i 1975. Det er Oki og Fujikawa som utmerker seg
mest som solister i disse fem «strekkene» som har fått titlene «Combo session 1» til «Combo session 5».
Det er hele veien moderne jazzmusikk med klare røtter i den japanske musikken vi får oppleve. Jeg setter spesielt stor pris på Fujikawas fløytespill i starten, som ligger tett på mye av det
man tidligere hadde fått høre fra Eric Dolphy. Og trompettonen til Oki er skarp og en fin kontrast til fløytespillet. Og når bassisten får plass utvikler dette seg til en spennende,
frittgående plate, hvor musikken er skapt der og da, og hvor vi møter fire musikere som passer godt sammen, og som var «tidlig ute» i sin søken mot den frittgående, spennende jazzen. Musikken
er ofte litt søkende, og det er Oki som geleider de andre mjusikerne inn i en musikalsk retning han gjerne vil gå. Og de andre følger han fint hele veien, og spesielt spennende synes jeg det
blir i den andre sekvensen, hvor vi får et parti med en nydelig trompet og trommeduett som nesten er verdt hele postsendingen fra Vilnius alene. Og når bassen kommer inn, kan Oki senke
skuldrene og la musikken bare «flyte».
Den andre innspillingen fra NoBusiness i denne «Japan-sendingen» er med tenorsaksofonisten Mototeru Takagi (高木元輝), altsaksofonisten, fløytisten og bassklarinettisten Susumu Kongo (金剛督),
tenorsaksofonisten, fløytisten og bassklarinettisten Nao Takeuchi (竹内直) og trommeslageren Shota Koyama (小山彰太). Innspillingen er gjort på Little John i Yokohama den 25. september 1999, og her
er musikken helt annerledes.
Mototeru Takagi ble også født i 1941, men forlot denne verden i 2002. Han var en toneangivende og viktig musiker innenfor den japanske freejazzen. I likhet med Oki, var han også i Europa på
begynnelsen av 70-tallet, men flyttet hjem i 1974. Han har ikke utgitt så mange plater i eget navn, men han har vært med på en rekke utgivelser med japanske musikere, pluss at han medvirker
på plater med blant andre trommeslageren Milford Graves og gitaristene Derek Bailey og Henry Keiser.
Vi får tre lange «strekk», og det starter med bassklarinetter i front. Og derfra og ut er det treblåserne som dominerer over fint, løst og kreativt trommespill. Tagaki er den som er den
førende solisten på tenorsaksofonen, og når han «går i krigen» med de to bassklarinettene, blir dette både originalt og fint. Her er også fløytespillet fint, uansett hvem av de to som
spiller, og de frittgående ideene fungerer fint i en helhet.
Musikken på denne platen er ikke like preget av den japanske musikken som Okis plate, men mye mer rettet mot USA og Europa. Så er også denne innspillingen gjort såpass sent som i 1999, og
japanerne hadde virkelig fått opp øynene for den vestlige musikken. Og vi får møte fire musikere som har tatt den vestlige, kreative musikken på alvor, og som gjør den til sin.
Disse to platene beviser at Japan er et land hvor den moderne og frittgående jazzen allerede i 1975 levde i beste velgående. Så kan vi håpe at flere enn en håndfull musikere fra landet får
muligheten til å vise seg fram på scener også her i Norden i fremtiden. For den japanske jazzen er like spennende som det meste vi får både fra Europa og USA.
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.
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.
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.
TAKAYANGI / INO / KIKUCHI
«Live at Jazz inn Lovely 1990»
NOBUSINESS, NBCD 135
Mer tidligere uhørt musikk fra Japan, utgitt på serien «Chap Chap Series» fra selskapet NoBusiness i Vilnius. Og, som alltid, er det ytterst spennende musikk vi får servert fra andre
siden av jordkloden.
Gitaristen Masayuki JoJo Takayangi 高柳 昌行 ble født den 22. desember 1932, og forlot denne verden den 23. juni 1991, og var kjent som en utpreget freejazz- og støymusiker i hjemlandet. Han var
aktiv på den hjemlige jazzscenen fra slutten av 50-tallet, og på 60-tallet startet han bandet New Directions, som senere fikk navnet New Directions Unit, som gjorde en rekke
plateinnspillinger i løpet av 70-tallet. Han gjorde også flere innspillinger med saksofonisten Kaoru Abe, og han har helt til nå vært en relativt ukjent utøver her i «vesten».
Bassisten Nobuyoshi Ino 井野信義, gjorde platen «Reason For Being» sammen med Takayangi i 1990, Han ble født den 26. mars 1950, og har vært å høre med musikere som Terumasa Hino, Aki Takase, og
en rekke andre japanske musikere, pluss at han har gjort en duoplate med trompeteren Lester Bowie, mens pianisten Masabumi PUU Kikuchi 菊地 雅章 ble født den 19. oktober 1939 og forlot oss den 6.
juli 2015, og var en av de virkelige veteranene innenfor den japanske jazzen. Ved siden av å spille med mer «streite» amerikanske musikere som Lionel Hampton, Woody Herman, Pee Wee Ellis,
Helen Merrill, Sonny Rollins, Mal Waldron, Joe Henderson, McCoy Tyner, Gary Peacock, Billy Harper og Hannibal Marvin Peterson, spilte han også med både Gil Evans, Paul Motian, og Miles Davis.
Men han spilte altså også med den ytterst «frittgående» gitaristen Masayuki JoJo Takayangi på denne klubbjobben på Jazz Inn Lovely i Nagoya, Japan den 9. oktober 1990, og musikken vi får
servert ligger et godt stykke unna det vi kjenner fra de musikerne som er nevnt over.
Men de begynner «dannet», med låten «III» som er en variant av en amerikansk standard jeg ikke husker navnet på. Og det er tydelig at de tre forsøker seg på å tilfredsstille publikum med
relativt «dannet» musikk i starten. Og selv om de tre hele veien forsøker å holde seg innenfor de relativt «stramme» rammene i musikken, får vi fine «utglidninger» fra alle tre i en relativt
rolig blues. Spesielt legger man merke til fint pianospill fra Kikuchi og et originalt gitarspill fra Takayangi. Og så gjør Ino en iherdig innsats med å holde de to sammen, som om han befant
seg litt mellom «barken og veden». Og han slipper til med en fin solo, som, i likhet med resten, er neddempet og fin.
De neste to låtene, «Duo I» og «Duo II» er duoer mellom Takayangi og Ino, og beveger seg et godt stykke ut mot det «frittgånde». Dette er moderne jazzgitar fra øverste hylle, med et årvåkent
bass-spill, hvor de, selv om dette blir skapt der og da, gir mening og spennende innhold. Takayanghis gitarspill er ytterst originalt, og det er ikke ofte vi hører slikt gitarspill i 2021,
hvor det ofte er om å gjøre å spille teknisk og «røddig». Det er tydelig at Takayangi ikke brydde seg så mye om det i 1990, derfor blir spillet hans spennende og originalt. Og med et stødig
bass-spill blir han hjulpet til å holde et slags «fokus». Man kan kanskje sammenligne gitarspillet litt med Derek Bailey og hans like, men allikevel er dette originalt og tøft.
Så avslutter de med to triolåter, «Trio I» og «Trio II», hvor de fortsetter utviklingen. Fra å starte innspillingen med en langsom blues, er musikken her mer intrikat og «krevende» med
gitaren i front, og med de to andre halsende etter. Men mot slutten er de litt tilbake i den litt rolige bluesen, men spilt på deres helt særegne måte, som virker enkel, men som garantert
ikke er det.
Lyden på opptakene tyder på at dette kan være et amatøropptak, eller et opptak som egentlig ikke var tenkt utgitt, for det er ikke akkurat høykvalitet. Men det spiller egentlig ingen rolle.
Det viktige her er å høre de tre sammen, i et relativt sjeldent opptak.
This live date from the titular Nagoya venue reveals the mellow side of Japanese free jazz. That could seem unlikely when considering the lead name, guitarist Masayuki Takayanagi, a
maverick follower of Lennie Tristano who later turned to total freak-outs and noise, partnering with the likes of outsider saxophonist Kaoru Abe. Recorded nine months before his death 30
years ago this month, the concert finds him in the company of regular collaborator bassist Nobuyoshi Ino, plus celebrated pianist Masabumi Kikuchi, who died in 2015, sitting in during a
trip home from his long sojourn in the U.S. Kikuchi, who worked with Miles Davis, Gil Evans, Dave Liebman and Joe Henderson, as well as a cooperative trio with Gary Peacock and Paul
Motian, exerts a pull towards the tradition. But Takayanagi and Ino are not unwilling accomplices. Even on one of the two cuts they play as a duo, they touch on a standard material as a
basis for further exploration. Much of the time Ino, who sure-footedly straddles the inside/ outside dichotomy, anchors the often conversational interaction close to the mainstream. But
it’s when he picks up his bow to become an equal voice without any supportive function that proceedings unloose their moorings. One of the high points of the disc comes on “Duo I” when
his arco slashes and organ-like tones engage in prickly dialogue with Takayanagi’s scratchy fragmentation. Similarly on “Trio III” Ino extracts creaks and groans from his bass as the
weather veers stormy, Kikuchi thunders and the guitarist flashes in dramatic gesture. Conventional gambits reappear during “Trio I” as the three parlay an abstraction, which doesn’t shy
from consonance. Later Kikuchi plies repeated rhythmic figures that rejuvenate the exchanges, before ultimately harping on an insistent progression. Once Ino latches on, the pianist moves
into a loose rendition of Monk’s “Locomotive”, with Takayanagi adding oblique but blues-inflected commentary. It forms the final chapter in an album, which soothes as much as it stirs.
Ken Waxman - The Whole Note
Flash forward 15 years and more instances of first generation Japanese free music are on Live at
Jazz Inn Lovely 1990 (NoBusiness NBCD 135 nobusinessrecords.com). In one way it was a reunion between two pioneering improvisers,
guitarist Masayuki Jojo Takayanagi (1932-1991), who began mixing noise emphasis and
free improvisation in the mid-1960s with in-your-face groups featuring the likes of saxophonist Kaoru Abe and pianist Masabumi Puu
Kikuchi (1939-2015). Kikuchi evolved a
quieter style after moving to the US in the late 1980s and this was the first time the guitarist and pianist played together since 1972. Problem was that this was a Takayanagi duo gig
with longtime bassist Nobuyoshi Ino until Kikuchi decided to sit in, creating some understandable friction. Agitation simmers beneath the surface adding increased tautness to the already
astringent sounds. This is especially obvious on the trio selections when the guitarist’s metallic single lines become even chillier and rawer. Initially more reserved, Kikuchi’s playing
soon accelerates to percussive comping, then key clangs and clips, especially on the concluding Trio II. For his part, Ino serves as a bemused second to these sound duelists, joining an authoritative walking bass line and subtly advancing swing to that final
selection. On the duo tracks, he and the guitarist display extrasensory connectivity. He preserves chromatic motion with buzzing stops or the occasional cello-register arco sweep.
Meanwhile with a minimum of notes, Takayanagi expresses singular broken chord motion or with slurred fingers interjects brief quotes from forgotten pop tunes. On Duo II as well, Ino’s string rubs move the theme in one direction while Takayanagi challenges it with a
counterclockwise pattern. Still, fascination rests in the piano-guitar challenges with Kikuchi’s keyboard motion arpeggio-rich or sometime almost funky, while Takayanagi’s converse
strategies take in fluid twangs, cadenced strumming and angled flanges.
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.
Drummer Sabu Toyozumi is not very well known outside of a few circles. One of his many claims to fame is being the first non-American in the AACM. In addition to that, he has spent the
last five decades touring, performing, and recording with a long list of improvisers from three continents. Mats Gustafsson, of course, is more of a household name (if people in your
house are into firey free improv) and has played with a similarly long and varied roster of musicians. As far as I can tell, this meeting, recorded live in Japan in June of 2018, is the
first between the two.
Toyozumi plays the drum kit as if it were a group of found objects. While he produces rolls and occasional rhythms, his use of space and sparse phrasings are more prevalent. Rather than
fill the pieces on Hokusai with
notes, he proceeds in a meandering and deliberate fashion. Gustafsson, perhaps influenced by this approach, is uncharacteristically minimal at times. He switches between sax and flute,
eliciting angularities from both. When not in the background, Gustafsson offers up staccato runs, wails, and warblings. Among the five tracks, each musician has one dedicated to his solo
playing. This further accentuates and complements their duets. The result is an album that is exploratory and mostly quiet, but with a few blasts here and there to make sure you are
paying attention.
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.
SABU TOYOZUMI / MATS GUSTAFSSON
«Hokusai»
NOBUSINESS, NBCD 134
Den norske poeten Jan Erik Vold publiserte i 1979 et dikt han kalte «Hokusai, den gamle mester» i sin fantastiske samling «Sirkel, sirkel». Og om dette diktet er grunnen til at den japanske
trommeslageren Sabu Toyozumi og den svenske saksofonisten Mats Gustafsson valgte å kalle sin liveinnspilling fra Jazz Spot Candy i Chiba i Japan, tatt opp i dagene 11. og 12. juni 2018, vites
ikke. Men dette diktet har vært med meg siden jeg gikk til anskaffelse av boken i 1979. Volds dikt var en bauta i den relativt store samlingen, og jeg har valgt å ta det med her, så kan du
som ikke kjenner det, og Gustafsson, om han ikke kjenner det fra før, lese det:
Hokusai / ble / nærpå 90. / Da han var 75 / år gammel, sa han / om bildene sine: Jeg begynte å / tegne / ting da jeg var / 6. Det jeg fikk til / før
jeg var 50, er ingenting / tess. Da jeg var 70 / hadde jeg ennå / ikke gjort / noe bra. I 73 års alder / begynte jeg å forstå / dyr og planters /
grunnleggende / former. // Når jeg blir 80, vil jeg / ha forstått mer, og når jeg blir 90 / vil jeg kjenne / kunstens / hemmeligheter / til bunns – så når jeg
blir 100 vil jeg / lage / rosverdige / ting. For ikke å snakke // om årene / deretter. / Nå gjelder det bare / å holde det gående.
Katsushika Hokusai (葛 飾 北 斎), ble født i Edo, som nå er Tokyo, omkring den 31. oktober 1760 og døde den 10. mai 1849. Han var kjent ganske enkelt som Hokusai, og var en japansk kunstner,
ukiyo-e-maler og grafiker fra Edo-perioden. Han var mest kjent for å lage treblokk-serien «Trettiseks utsikter over Fuji-fjellet», som inneholder det internasjonalt ikoniske trykket, «The
Great Wave off Kanagawa».
Sabu Toyozumi ble født i Tsurumi i Yokohama i 1943. Han blir regnet som en av de store «frittgående» japanske jazzmusikere som utgjorde første generasjonen som spilte freejazz i Japan. Som
trommeslager spilte han sammen med mange av nøkkelfigurene i den japanske freejazzen, som de to hovedfigurene i den «første generasjonen», Masayuki Takayanagi og Kaoru Abe fra slutten av
1960-tallet og utover. Han er en av svært få i denne kretsen som fremdeles er i live og er engasjert i å spille denne musikken i dag.
Mats Gustafsson er en av Europas mest aktive musikere innenfor den «frittgående» musikken. Han har bosatt seg i Nickeldorf i Østerrike, etter å ha hatt bostedsadresse i Sverige siden han ble
født i Umeå den 29. oktober 1964. Han er en av Europas ledende samlere av jazzplater, og han lever og ånder for den «spennende» musikken. Vi har hørt han i en rekke forskjellige sammenhenger,
som i egne prosjekter som Fire! og Fire! Orchestra, The Thing, The Thing med Neneh Cherry, med Paul Lovens, Hamid Drake, Barry Guy, The School Days, Sonic Youth, Paal Nilssen-Love, John
Russell og Raymond Strid, Thurston Moore, og NU Ensemble. I tillegg har han «slengt seg med» i prosjekter med Aaly Trio, Ken Vandermark, Per Henrik Wallin, Jaap Blonk og Michael Zerang, Jim
O’Rourke, Agusti Fernández, Kieran Hebden & Steve Reid, Colin Stetson, The Ex, Merzbow, og Craig Taborn, for å nevne noen.
I 2018 var han en snartur til Japan, og der ble det satt opp et par konserter i Chiba, hvor Gustafsson fik gleden av å improvisere sammen med en av legendene i den japanske jazzen.
Vi får fem «strekk», hvor alt som fremføres er fritt improvisert. Og de starter temmelig rolig, hvor de mer eller mindre «føler» på hverandre, og finner et slags felles landskap å bevege seg
i.
Og derfra og ut, er dette en spennende reise i hva en japansk trommeslager og en svenske, utstyrt med barytonsaksofon, flutophone og fløyte kan lage av musikk sammen. I starten føles det som
om det er Toyazumi som legger premissene for hvilke retninger de skal bevege seg. Men det varer ikke lenge før «udyret fra Umeå» tar sats og forsøker å rette ut barytonsaksofonen. Og det går
ikke mange minuttene før de to har funnet en felles, musikalsk plattform som de kan «drodle» rundt.
I de senere årene har jeg lagt merke til at Gustafsson har roet ned spillet sitt adskillig. Han er mye mer dynamisk i spillet sitt nå, og han er mer gjenkjennbar når det gjelder idealer og
det melodiske, som jeg syntes vi hørte godt i The Things samarbeid med Neneh Cherry (som var et høydepunkt i The Thing-historien). Men han har fremdeles den samme råskapen som gjør han til en
av de mest spennende musikerne innenfor det «frittgående» landskapet. Men jeg føler det er mer «kontroll» på galskapen nå.
Og mens jeg lytter, tenker jeg på diktet om Hokusai, og at det trengs livserfaringer for å skape god kunst. Og mens jeg lytter til de to, tenker jeg på hvordan Jan Erik Vold fremførte dette
diktet på platen «Ingentings bjeller» med Jan Grabarek, Bobo Stenson, Palle Danielsson og Jon Christensen, som kom ut på Polydor i 1977. Og selv om Gustafsson og Toyazumi spiller en helt
annen form for improvisert musikk enn det Vold og hans musikalske venner gjorde, så er det noe med stemningen og tilnærmingen jeg mener kan sammenlignes.
I den musikken de to fremfører, er det kommunikasjonen mellom musikerne som er det aller viktigste. At de finner en måte å «samtale» på, selv om det garantert oppsto noen språklige barrierer
«backstage» før og etter konsertene. Men jeg synes de finner hverandre relativt fort i disse to konsertene. Toyazumi med et trommespill som, innimellom kan virke enkelt, men som inneholder
mange detaljer som fascinerer. Og samtidig som det er en slags enkelhet i det han spiller, er det en spennende råskap som passer perfekt sammen med Gustafssons musikalske uttrykk.
En spennende innspilling, hvor vi møter Gustafsson i et nytt samarbeid, som også denne gangen fungerer fint.
Derek Bailey & Mototeru Takagi – Live at FarOut, Atsugi 1987 (No Business)
Contrary to his comparatively unpinioned style of music-making, Derek Bailey entertained some fairly rigid opinions regarding improvisation. Central to the guitarist’s methodology was the
observation that first meetings between musicians were typically most conducive toward successful outcomes, the idea being that figurative barnacles of familiarity hadn’t had time to
affix and encumber spontaneity. This viewpoint attracted adherents and detractors, but the longer that Bailey espoused it, the more suspect it seemed that he actually held it as
gospel. Live at FarOut, Atsugi 1987 presents a case in point, in pairing his idiosyncratic guitar with soprano saxophone of Mototeru Takagi at a titular club in Kanagawa,
Japan.
Bailey and Takagi’s previous musical associations are difficult to summarize with certainty, but they appear together on a free improvisation with Kaoru Abe as part of a collection
released on the Kitty label in 1978. This precedence has little, if any audible effect on their fortuitous meeting nine-years later. Takagi’s playing credentials were built mainly from
collaborations with countrymen, but albums like the aforementioned and Milford Graves’ seminal Meditation Among Us (1976) offered edifying opportunities to team up with
foreigners. His pairing with Bailey is invitingly compatible from the jump. Split into four sections designated by Roman numerals, the performance combines duo and solo segments and
approximates the movements of an extended dance.
Bailey makes ample use of his volume pedal in the opening section, building and eroding swells around prickly sustains and thorny thickets of torqued strings. Takagi affects a similar
pliability with his tone, parsing pinched snippets before switching to vibrato-weighted bursts that thread through the guitarist’s irregular ornamentations. Evan Parker, an erstwhile
colleague of Bailey’s, represents a tempting point of comparison. But Takagi’s constructions ultimately share little in common with the British saxophonist, at least on the surface, and
feel more consistently rooted in free jazz antecedents.
Curious liner notes scripted by a Japanese aficionado argue that the duo’s music is at once classic and eternally fated to be ostracized from the mainstream. Observing how incisively and
consistently Bailey and Takagi actually listen to each other and the common logic that informs their often reciprocal repartee, this argument seems unduly pessimistic. Musical affinity
and appreciation are where one finds them and there’s nothing that suggests that the well-oiled interactions on offer here are inherently compromised in that regard, particularly given
how persistently each player applies his substantial faculties to the cause.
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.
DEREK BAILEY / MOTOTERU TAKAGI
«Live at Far Out, Atsugi 1987»
NOBUSINESS, NBCD 132
For den som mener at musikk fremført på gitar kun skal inneholde tre blues-akkorder, er muligens ikke denne duoplaten akkurat et «must». Men hvis du er opptatt av relativt utagerende
gitarprogresjoner sammen med heftig sopransaksofon-utfoldelse, og en kommunikasjon mellom to instrumenter, som går utenom de oppgåtte «skispor», bør dette samarbeidet være noe for deg.
Gitaristen Derek Bailey ble født den 29. januar 1930 og forlot denne verden den 25. desember 2005, og var utvilsomt en stilskaper på gitar. Han kom fra Sheffield, og i 1966 møtte han andre
musikere som hadde noen av de samme musikalske ideer som han selv, på trommeslageren John Stevens’ klubb, The Little Theatre Club. Her kom han i kontakt med Evan Parker, Kenny Wheeler og Dave
Holland, og sammen startet de Spontaneous Music Ensemble, som skulle få stor betydning for den «frittgående» musikken, spesielt i England. Senere samarbeidet han med musikee som Han Bennink,
Misha Mengelberg, Steve Beresford, Anthony Braxton, Eugene Chadbourne, Jonny Dyani, Fred Frith, Tristan Honsinger, Henry Kaiser, Steve Lacy, Wadada Leo Smith og John Zorn, for å nevne noen
få. Han gjorde en rekke plater i eget navn, samt at han samarbeidet med de fleste av Europas ledende musikere innenfor det fritt improviserte.
Den japanske saksofonisten Mototeru Tagagi ble født i Osaka den 28. desember 1941, og døde i desember 2002. Han var kjent for å spille i en markant og kraftfull fri stil, og spilte med mange
av de viktigste japanske «frittgående» grupper og musikere på 70-tallet. Han bodde ett år i Frankrike, hvor han forsøkte å tjene til livets opphold som kompromissløs musiker, men vendte etter
ett år tilbake til hjemlandet.
I 1987 var det duket for duokonsert med de to på Far Out i Atsugi i Japan. Og på dette opptaket får vi fire «strekk» som har fått titlene «Duo I-IV», alle fire med musikk skapt der og du, og
uten ett eneste «riff», slik mange vil ha det når det er snakk om musikalske sammensetninger med gitar i bandet.
Derek Bailey var mesteparten av sitt liv, totalt uinteressert i å spille «streit» jazzmusikk, og i en duosammenheng med den like kompromissløse Tagaki, får vi musikk de aldri, hverken før
eller senere, gjorde helt likt. I denne formen for musikalsk utfoldelse er lyttingen musikerne imellom svært viktig. Og her møter vi to som må være i besittelse av noen av verdens største
ører. For det er kommunikasjonen mellom de to som er det mest fascinerende med det vi får høre. Det virker som om det er Bailey som, på mange måter, fører an i de frie improvisasjonene, og
hele veien inviterer han inn Takagi på en spennende måte. Og i de partiene hvor han selv «fører ordet», får vi assosiasjoner, i små partier, til musikk fra store deler av verden, men som
kombineres og utvikles slik nesten bare Bailey var i stand til.
Dette er blitt en ytterst spennende innspilling, hvor to utmerkede musikere med egne og originale ideer møttes for å spille med hverandre, uten tanke på å glede andre enn seg selv og,
kanskje, det fremmøtte publikum.
Fritt, freidig og veldig spennende!
Jan Granlie
Derek Bailey (g), Mototeru Takigi (ss)
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.
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.
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.
NASAHIKO SATOH / SABU TOYOZUMI
«The Aiki»
NOBUSINESS, NBCD 120
Så er det nok en gang kommet en plate fra Østen i serien «Chap Chap Series», med musikere vi nesten ikke ante eksisterte og med musikk som er innspilt for flere år siden, men som først nå er
tilgjengelig, takket være det dyktige og observante plateselskapet fra Vilnius.
Denne gangen møter vi pianisten Masahiko Satoh og trommeslageren Toshisaburo «Sabu» Toyozumi, tatt opp på konsert i C・S・Aka-Renga i Yamaguchi City i Japan den 26. mars 1997. Begge musikerne
er en del av en liten gruppe musikere i Japan, som tidlig startet å dyrke den frittgående improvisasjonen, og trommeslager Toyozumi var en av de få trommeslagerne som satset på denne musikken
relativt tidlig, og fikk dermed en rekke spillejobber innenfor det man kaller «den første generasjon» av freejazzmusikere i landet. Tidligere har vi anmeldt Toyozumis duoplate, «Burning
Meditation» (NOBUSINESS NBCD 11O) med den amerikanske trompeteren Wadada Leo Smith, som er anmeldt HER, og som fikk positiv omtale her på salt peanuts*.
Vi får to lange improvisasjoner, «The Move for the Quiet» (37:21) og «The Quiet for the Move» (19:50). Vi her i vesten, har etter hvert blitt vant til hvordan en moderne piano/trommer-duo
skal låte. Men når musikken kommer fra så langt øst det nesten er mulig å komme før vi må kalle det vest, har vi en slags forventning om at musikken fra Japan og «fjellstroka innaførr» skal
ha mye folkemusikk i seg, og at tilnærmingen til improvisasjon er helt annerledes enn det vi er vant til å høre. Vi forventer nesten å høre inspirasjon fra den japanske folkemusikken, omtrent
som folk derfra forventer å høre norsk folkemusikk hos norske pianister.
Og så viser det seg at disse to musikerne gir oss en slags vestlig musikk, som både er spennende, inspirerende, kreativ og fin. Og avstanden mellom pianister som Bill Evans, Keith Jarrett
eller for eksempel Misha Mengelberg eller andre «vestlige» pianister er ikke stor fra det vi her får høre fra Masahiko Satoh. Han er en drivende god pianist, som både er kreativ og spennende,
og sammen med Toshisaburo «Sabu» Toyozumi rytmiske og fine trommespill, bringer de ny musikk til torgs, som er overraskende tøffr og spennende å lytte til.
De improviserer begge fritt over de to låtene. Musikken er rytmisk og fri, uten at det blir for frittgående. Toyozumis trommespill er
rytmisk velfundert og svært oversiktlig, og når de tar det helt ned i starten på andresporet, er dette nesten som å høre en slags oppdatert versjon av Bill Evans klonet med Cecil Taylor a la
2019, eller flere av de moderne pianistene fra Europa som holder det gående i Evans eller Taylor-tradisjonen i dag, med den forskjellen at det kreative her står i høysetet og bringer mye nytt
og spennende til musikken hele veien. Kanskje vil noen hevde at musikken i denne låta er en smule innadvendt, men hvis man spiller den høyt, setter seg rolig tilbake og lytter, så vil man
oppdage mange nyanser man ikke trodde skulle komme fra disse to.
Musikken er vakker, swingende, kreativ og fin, og denne duoplaten er absolutt en jeg vil anbefale venner av godt pianospill og kreativt trommespill å låne ører til.
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.
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.
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.
KANG TAE HWAN / MIDORI TAKADA
«An Eternal Moment»
NOBUSINESS NBCD 115
Mange av våre følgere har vel en mistanke om at hvis man virkelig skal inn i freejazzen og den totalt fritt improviserte musikken, så skal man østover og til Sør-Korea og Japan. Her var en
periode plateselskapet Chap Chap Records som rådet grunnen med musikk vi sjelden aller aldri fikk mulighet til å følge med på her i vesten.
Plateselskapet NoBusiness har tidligere vist oss veien østover, og her kommer de med enda en plate med musikk vi ikke ante eksisterte.
Saksofonisten Kang Tae Hwan ble født i Seoul i 1944, og har siden 1978 ledet sin egen jazztrio som beveget seg langt inn i det eksperimentelle, mens Midori Takada er japansk komponist,
perkusjonist og marimbaspiller, født i 1951, og er kjent for å kombinere den øst-asiatiske musikken med jazz. Hun opptrer en del solo, men også i andre konstellasjoner som Mikwaja Ensemble,
med Masahiko Satoh, og nå, altså med Tae Hwan.
Opptakene til denne særpregede platen er gjort den 14. mars 1995 på Café Amores, Hofu, Yamaguschi i Japan, og vi får tre strekk, «Syun-Soku», «Solo» (Tae Hwan) og «Dan-Shi», og hele veien er
det musikk jeg ikke kan huske å ha hørt noe lignende av tidligere.
Ikke dermed sagt at dette er uforståelig og merkelig, for musikken har i hovedsak klare jazzelementer, som ikke ligger så langt fra det en del andre frittgående musikere beskjeftiger seg med.
Men det er noe med hvordan de to opptrer sammen, og hvordan de griper tak i den frie improvisasjonen som er original. Tae Hwan er en original saksofonist, som her trakterer altsaksofonen. Han
har mange gode ideer, og i andresporet, som er han solo, får vi mange fine strekk som fascinerer. Han sløser ikke med antall toner, men det virker som hver tone er vel gjennomtenkt. Han har
ingen fløyelstone i hornet som Paul Desmond eller Johnny Hodges, men en mye råere tilgang til instrumentet som er både original og spennende. Det blir noe typisk østlig melankolsk over
spillet hans, og innimellom legger han til noen frapperende løp som imponerer. Hele tiden spiller han effektivt og spennende, og jeg kan ikke huske å ha hørt noen altsaksofonist (eller andre
saksofonister) som spiller slik som han.
Midori Takada er en kreativ perkusjonist og marimbaspiller, som trakterer råtøff perkusjon i åpningssporet, mens hun benytter marimbaen i tredjesporet. Og det er som marimaspiller hun
imponerer mest, etter min smak. Og skal man tro plateselskapet, så blir det mulighet for å høre mer av henne solo, ved en senere utgivelse på NoBusiness. Og jeg kan ikke si annet enn at jeg
gleder meg.
I tredjesporet får vi fremdeles Tae Hwans klagende altsaksofon, sammen med Takadas frapperende marimbaspill, som både er originalt, østlig og spennende. Jeg synes hun har en helt egen tone i
marimbaen, som ligger mange mil fra de vibrafonistene og marimbaspillerne vi hører her i vesten. Hun er original og en glimrende tekniker, og sammen låter dette dynamitt.
«An Eternal Moment» er blitt en stor overraskelse av en plate. Musikken er original, spennende og ytterst kreativ, og det hadde virkelig vært spennende å høre de to live også her i Norden.
Månedens mest originale!
Jan Granlie
Kang Tae Hwan (as), Midori Takada (perc, mar)
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 (No Business/Chap Chap)
Tallying practice, rehearsals, concerts and studio sessions, how much trumpet has Wadada Leo Smith played to date? It’s an unanswerable and ultimately meaningless query, but even as an
incalculable sum it remains reflected in the stature Smith holds on the instrument. Add to that his acumen as an improviser and composer and the enduring, pervasive interest in his work
becomes immediately understandable. Burning Meditation presents a single aural snapshot of Smith in the company of Japanese drummer Sabu Toyozumi. Trumpet plays a
sizeable part in the captured conversation, but as was Smith’s wont at the time flutes, koto and kalimba also factor into his instrumental arsenal.
The origins of the partnership date to earlier. Toyozumi traveled to Chicago in 1971for a year-long apprenticeship with the AACM, but a fortuitous crossing of paths with Smith wouldn’t
occur until later. Enter Chap Chap label owner Takeo Suetomi who organized first a duo concert for the pair and a year later a Japanese tour for Smith from which the music on this disc
culls. Smith and Toyozumi touch on various of the latter’s motifs as launching and pivot points, but their placement and development remain jointly improvised with both men relying on
aural rather than visual cues to shape and steer the dialogue. Toyozumi positions himself as a forceful and fecund percussionist from the outset, stamping virile and vibrant tattoos and
polyrhythms, which Smith embraces and answers with clarion runs.
The music reflects the natural and organic elements evocative in Smith’s titles. “Burning Meditation – Uprising” is ripe with martial motion and multidirectional drama with Smith firing
cleanly arcing salvos and his colleague sustaining a swirling centripetal beat peppered with syncopated accents and even an eddying funk aside. “Don Cherry, A Silver Flute Song” turns
attention to Smith’s sculptures on the titular instrument and what sounds like shenai, losing some incisiveness and celerity in the exchange, but Toyozumi holds the center with his
steadying sticks. The set caps with “Stars, Lightning Bugs and Chrysanthemum Flowers,” a comparatively succinct dialogue that evokes AACM “little instruments” through Smith’s piquant
harmonica and kalimba sandwiching a muted brass interlude that cedes Smith’s main axe the upper hand.
Derek Taylor
Wadada Leo Smith / Sabu Toyozumi: Burning Meditation
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.
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.
WADADA LEO SMITH / SABU TOYOZUMI
«Burning Meditation»
NOBUSINESS NBCD 11O
Selskapet NoBusiness fortsetter å utgi tidligere ukjente innspillinger, i alle fall for oss her i Skandinavia. Denne gangen er det den amerikanske trompeteren Wadada Leo Smith som har vært på
tur i Japan, og har spilt konsert i C.S. Akarenga i Yamaguchi den 22. mars 1994, med den japanske trommeslageren Sabi Toyozumi. Sannsynligvis snakker vi om et «ad hoc»-prosjekt, hvor de to
musikerne har gått på scenen for å se hva de kunne få til av musikalske samtaler og kommunikasjon i løpet av en konsert, uten altfor mye planlegging på forhånd.
Wadada Leo Smith har de senere årene blitt en velkjent skikkelse innenfor den nyere jazzen, selv om han holdt på i mange år før han fikk den velfortjente oppmerksomheten han nå får, blant
annet med plater på ECM. Toyazumi blir regnet som en musikalsk pionér i Japan, spesielt for sitt kompromissløse trommespill. Han har samarbeidet med en rekke musikere innenfor den «løsere»
delen av jazzen, så som Derek Bailey, Misha Mengelberg, Peter Brötzmann, Tom Cora og mange flere.
På «Burning Meditation» får vi sju fritt improviserte strekk, hvor jeg føler Smith spiller en slags hovedrolle. Det er stort sett han som «fører ordet» og har de fleste ideene til hva som
skal gjøre og i hvilken retning musikken skal bevege seg. Noe som også er naturlig, siden trompeten er et mer melodiøst instrument enn trommene. Men Toyozumi er ikke tilstede kun for å
«lytte» til Smith. Han leverer fint og pågående trommespill jeg vil karakterisere som svært japansk. Det er nærmest som man kan høre en «kamikazepilot» i måten han spiller på. Det er mye av
hans eget språk i spillet, selv om han, nesten selvsagt, er påvirket av flere av de vestlige frittgående trommeslagerne. Men jeg synes hans spill allikevel er særpreget.
De to samarbeidet første gang på plate på duoplaten «Cosmos Has Spirit» som kom før dette «møtet», så det er to musikere som kjenner hverandre fra før, og som vet «hvor den andre hopper».
Derfor fungerer denne duoen også godt på denne konserten, og det er hyggelig lytting, hvor musikken ligger litt i utkanten av det man får servert fra de fleste musikerne i vesten.
Jeg synes Smith har mange gode ideer på de sju sporene. Han er ikke like mye Miles Davis-inspirert som vi har hørt på flere av hans egne prosjekter fra den tiden (og noen år fram i tid). Han
har personlighet i spillet, og sammen med Toyozumi blir dette en spennende, musikalsk opplevelse.
Wadada Leo Smith et Sabu Toyozumi ont fait connaissance en 1971 lors du séjour prolongé de Sabu à Chicago alors qu’il y jouait régulièrement avec Roscoe
Mitchell, Joseph Jarman, Anthony Braxton et faisait partie d’un trio de percussions avec Don Moye et Steve Mc Call. Depuis le début des années 80, Sabu Toyozumi est devenu le partenaire
incontournable d’improvisateurs américains ou européens dans des tournées à travers tout l’archipel nippon : John Zorn, Fred Van Hove, Misha Mengelberg, Peter Kowald, Peter Brötzmann, Joseph
Jarman, Paul Rutherford, John Russell et bien entendu, Leo Smith. Remarquablement enregistré au Café Amores, le club légendaire de Takeo Suetomi à
Yamaguchi City lors d’un concert mémorable le 22 mars 1994, Burning Meditation est une rencontre merveilleuse de deux poètes messagers du jazz librement
improvisé. Ce duo trompette – percussion se suffit à lui même et dispense une musicalité naturelle sous le signe de l’écoute, de l’invention mélodique et rythmique et d’un chamanisme
extra-sensoriel. Ce type d’échange est un finalement un genre difficile vu que les artistes doivent occuper l’espace et le temps sans faiblir en relançant sans discontinuer l’intérêt des
auditeurs réinventant sans relâche rythmes, sons, mélodies, dynamiques sans se répéter, et sans l’aide d’accompagnateurs (bassiste, pianiste etc..). Le travail de toute une vie. La sonorité
chaleureuse et cuivrée du trompettiste envahit l’espace et le temps dont le percussionniste ponctue de mille et une manières de frappes surprenantes de pulsations naturelles et
étrangement combinées, utilisant toutes les ressources expressives de ses tambours. Chaque membre actionne les baguettes en toute indépendance accélérant et ralentissant les cadences
alternativement, croisant les figures spontanément créant un réseau vibratoire complexe et mouvant au départ d’un rythme chaloupé somme toute assez simple. Le souffle de Leo Smith a une puissance
étonnante striant l’air ambiant telle une corne de brume à l’orée de la Yazoo River où les Flatlands détrempés dégagent fumeroles et vapeurs ensorcelantes de l’hiver immobile. Son
timbre et ses accents sont uniques et son chant cuivré illumine l’atmosphère. On peut comparer ce magnifique enregistrement live à celui gravé par Leo Smith en compagnie d’Ed Blackwell
(The Blue Mountain’s Sun Drummer 1986 – Kabell rds 111 – 2010). Les morceaux, ici librement improvisés, durent entre 15 et 7/ 8 minutes et déversent leur
trop plein de blues, de groove sauvage (quand ce n’est pas du funk enfantin) et d’inventions soniques et expressives en dehors des sentiers battus. Les compositions avec Blackwell sont plus
ramassées (10 pièces de 3 à 6 minutes) et sont signées Wadada Leo Smith. Quelle que soit l’orientation choisie, sa musique est essentielle. Tout l’art de Leo Smith est de suggérer le rythme, de
le vivifier tout en faisant éclater le son de la Great Black Music, une des plus vécues, authentiques et intenses qu’il nous est permis de goûter. Et aussi de chanter un hymne blues
aux Human Rights de circonstance. La qualité du travail de Sabu Toyozumi se mesure tout à fait par le fait que sa musique s’adapte naturellement à son camarade. Écoutez le
dans the Conscience un album en duo avec Paul Rutherford paru aussi chez No Business, et vous conviendrez que la flexibilité sincère et
enthousiaste de ce grand artiste est confondante, créant le complément sonore et percussif idéalement conçu en regard de la personnalité musique de ses partenaires. Dans le continuum du jazz
libre et de l’improvisation afro-américaine, cette merveille musicale est un moment indispensable. Une méditation brûlante.
Jean-Michel Von Schouwburg (article publié initialement sur Orynx)
En complément, la première piste de l'album en libre écoute
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.
CHOI SUN BAE QUARTET
«Arirang Fantasy»
NOBUSINESS NBCD 108
Jeg må innrømme at jazz fra Sør-Korea er noe jeg ikke har stor oversikt over. En av grunnene kan selvsagt være, at kreativ musikk fra landet ikke akkurat forefinnes i overflod i landet. En
annen grunn kan være at den ene gangen jeg har besøkt landet, og Seoul, så jeg ikke snurten av en eneste plateforretning, hvor man hadde muligheter til å sjekke ut musikken fra det relativt
ukjente landet.
Men nå har selskapet NoBusiness, som holder til i Litauen, utgitt flere gjenutgivelser av kreativ musikk fra Japan og Sør-Korea. Og i bunken av svært spennende frittgående musikk, fulgte også
Choi Sun Bae Quartets plate «Arirang Fantasy», innspilt i Romanisches Café i Tokyo den 12. juni 1995.
Vi møter trompeteren Choi Sun Bae, saksofonisten Junji Hirose, bassisten Motuharu Yoshizawa og perkusjonisten Kim Dae Hwan, fire musikere jeg aldri har hørt om før jeg fikk denne platen i
posten.
Det sies at da disse musikerne spilte i Tokyo første gang, på «Tokyo Meeting» i 1985, hvor de spilte som trio med Kang Dae-Hwan på altsaksofon, Choi Sun Bae på trompet og Kim Dae Hwan på
trommer og perkusjon. Trioen ble nærmest omfavnet av de japanske freejazzmusikerne, og de startet samarbeid med flere av dem, blant andre Masahiko Satoh, Motoharu Yoshizawa og Kazutoki Umezu.
Ti år etter denne første konserten, ble den konserten vi her er vitne til innspilt, med både japanske og Sør-Koreanske musikere. Sun Bae og Dae Hwan kommer fra Sør-Korea og Junji Hirose og
Motorharu Yoshizawa kommer fra Japan. Motoharu Yoshizawa hadde tidligere arbeidet med Derek Bailey, Steve Lacy og Evan Parker, mens Junji Hirose hadde jobbet i Ground Zero, så vel som med
Masahiko Togashi (trommer) og Kasuhisa Uchihashi (gitar og saksofon).
Det åpner med et langt strekk, «Blue Sky», hvor vi kun hører Sun Bae på trompet og Yoshizawa på fem-strengs bass. Dette er en relativt energisk låt, hvor de to kjemper seg fram med en
intensitet som jeg forbinder med den japanske undergrunnskulturen. De kommuniserer fint, og etter en litt sjokkartet åpning, venner man seg til lydbildet og det blir en fin improvisasjon. Sun
Baes spill kan minne en del om den måten Nate Wooley spiller på, samtidig som den japanske trompeteren Toshinori Kondo dukker opp i bakhodet.
I liner-notene som er skrevet av eieren av caféen hvor platen ble innspilt, skriver han at siden det er så få musikere i Korea som spiller fri musikk, må musikerne finne opp sitt eget språk,
delvis basert på koreanske folkemelodier.
På platen hører vi stort sett duoer og trioer, som gir hver av de fire musikere tid og rom til å strekke ut, eksperimentere og samhandle på flere nivåer.
Andrelåten «Remember Bird» starter helt annerledes med saksofon og trompet i en slags unison «messe». Men det varer ikke lenge før Sun Bae tar av til venstre og er litt tilbake til
førstesporet, med ytterst energisk trompetspill, mens Hiroses saksofon mest blir en samarbeidspartner.
Tredjesporet «The Stream of Time» åpner med Hvans løse trommespill, som starter nesten lydløst, men som arbeider seg oppover i intensitet. Jeg føler at denne formen for trommespill er
relativt langt fra det vi til daglig hører her i vesten. Selvfølgelig er det en trommesolo som ikke ligger langt unna for eksempel Paul Lovens og hans like, men allikevel er det noe med
«angrepet» og måten det blir gjort på, som man nesten kan sammenligne med oppvisninger man ser og hører fra store stadioner med mange hundre tradisjonelle trommeslagere. Men samtidig er dette
fritt og ytterst freidig, og tøft.
Så følger «Korea Fantasy» med Sun Bae i førersetet. Men om det hele tiden er han som fører an, eller om det er Hiroses saksofon er ikke godt å vite. De snor seg rundt hverandre som to
forelskede slanger, og det er umulig å skille dem fra hverandre. Og bak det hele ligger bassen til Yoshizawa og brummer, som om han vil angripe de to blåserne. Innimellom høres han ut som en
løve som knurrer og forbereder seg på angrep, men det kommer ikke. Han lar de to blåserne holde på, og bidrar heller med fine innspill i låten. Avansert? I aller høyeste grad, og veldig
særpreget.
Så avslutter de med tittelsporet, «Arirang Fantasy», som er en lang (21:50) og ytterst fri fabulering over noe som godt kan være koreansk folkemusikk, og en låt hvor musikerne virkelig
samarbeider på høyt nivå. Musikken blir droneaktig, og innimellom står det nesten helt stille, men disse fire musikerne klarer ikke å være stille lenge. Det er alltid en av dem som bryter ut
og enten smeller hardt i trommene eller river heftig med buen i bassen, mens blåserne holder seg langt der nede. Men etter en stund kommer de med en nydelig balladeaktig (sikkert
folkemusikklåt) sak som er usigelig vakker oppe i all «galskapen». Og deretter tar de to blåserne fullstendig av og prøver å rette ut instrumentene sine, mens trommene varsler om dommedag.
Men dommedagen kommer ikke. Det var bare et forvarsel, og man roer det hele ned med Sun Baes fine trompetspill, før de andre kommer smygende og vi er langt inne i freejazz-land igjen, hvor
intensiteten hele tiden er tilstede, og hvor de koreanske elementene hele tiden er i førersetet. Spennende og originalt!
Trompeteren Choi Sun Bae og hans japanske og koreanske venner har med «Arirang Fantasy» laget en plate man må lete svært lenge for å finne maken til her i «vesten». Dette er musikk som er så
østlig, og så spennende, at det nesten er en skam at vi ikke har vært oppmerksomme på dem tidligere. Anbefales for alle med ører som er ute etter noe nytt (innspilt i 1995) og spennende!
Jan Granlie
Choi Sun Bae (tp), Junji Hirose (ts, ss), Motuharu Yoshizawa (b), Kim Dae Hwan (perc)
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
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.
SCHLIPPENBACH / TAKASE
«Live at Café Amores»
NOBUSINESS NBCD 106
(GJENUTGIVELSE)
Ekteparet Aki Takase og Alexander von Schlipåpenbach, må være et av verdens tøffeste, pianospillende ektepar. På hver sin side har de gjennom mange år, vært i tetskiktet når det gjelder
heftig, spennende og kreativt pianospill, og at de skulle utgi plate sammen, ser jeg på som en helt naturlig ting, selv om ikke alle slike prosjekter, med mann og kone, har vært like heldige
gjennom musikkhistorien.
Men her møtes de to på konsert på Café Amores i Hofu, Yamaguchi i Japan den 16. august 1995. De fleste av de åtte komposisjonene er gjort av Schlippenbach, men de er også innom «You are what
you is» av Frank Zappa, en miks av «Dukes Choice» og «Boogie Stop Shuffle» av Takase og Charles Mingus, «Skippy», «Misterioso» og «Evidence» av Thelonious Monk og Harry Warrens «Lulu’s Back
to Town».
Låtene har tidligere vært utgitt på selskapet FMP, men nå har altså polakkene i NoBusiness gjenutgitt konserten.
Og det er en ytterst spennende pianoduo vi får høre. Og her opererer man ikke med to store Steinway-flygler. Nei, de sitter ved siden av hverandre ved pianoet og fordeler tangentene mellom
seg, eller den ene lener seg tilbake, så den andre slipper til over hele pianoet.
Det starter med de to Schlippenbach-komposisjonene, «Jackhammer» og «Na na na ist das der Weg», hvor de fordeler spillet mellom seg. Og allerede her hører vi forskjellen på de to godt.
Schlippenbach er den eksperimentelle og søkende, mens Takase er den som «angriper» pianoet med heftig teknikk, swing og pågåenhet.
«Jackhammer» er et solostykke fremført av Schlippenbach, mens «Na na na ist das der Weg» er et stykke for firhendig klaver. Schlippenbach tar seg av det lavere registeret, mens Takase «leker
seg» i det høye. Det starter med en slags «call and response», som om de roper på hverandre ute på en stor, øde slette. Men de finner hverandre raskt, og hastigheten og energien i spillet
øker betraktelig, mest på grunn av Takases bruk av hele pianoet, så Schlippenbach blir skjøvet ut til å spille en slags birolle.
Frank Zappas «You are what you is», tittelsporet på Zappas utgivelse som kom etter «Joe’s Garage» i 1981, fremføres nesten som en boogie-woogie, med Takase som førende musiker. Zappa
dedikerte denne komposisjonen til Eric Dolphy, og det hadde vært coolt å høre denne versjonen med Dolphy på bassklarinett. For her går det unna i svingene, og Takase boltrer seg sammen med
mer «ordna forhold» i Schlippenbachs spill.
Mingus-hyllesten, «Duke’s Choise» og Mingus-perlen «Boogie Stop Schuffle» er to flotte låter som føyer seg godt sammen. Det starter med Takases «Duke’s Choise», som starter svært rolig og
helt «der nede», hvor hun leker seg med et tema både utenpå og inni pianoet. Det hele bygger seg mer og mer opp, og hun nærmer seg mer og mer den kjente Mingus-låta fra den strålende platen
«Mingus Ah Um» fra 1960. Og plutselig er vi der. Takase raser gjennom temaet med stor overbevisning. Og selv om det ikke er nevnt noe sted, så har jeg en mistanke om at dette fremføres kun av
Takase. Mingus-låta blir en boogie-woogie, hvor Takases eminente teknikk og følelse for låta kommer godt fram. En praktfull versjon!
Så er vi der vi skal være når vi er på konsert med Alexander von Schlippenbach. Vi er i Thelonious Monk-land. Her får vi ekteparet i firehendig spill, og vi vet at Schlippenbach har et nært forhold til Monks musikk, derfor er det han som fører an med de kjente linjene i disse to låtene, mens Takase boltrer seg
i det øvre registeret.
Men det er ikke slutt med Monk med disse to låtene. Etter de to, kommer Monks «Skippy», som fremføres nesten som en be bop-låt. Men med en del nyere tonevendinger og taktskifter. De to
kommuniserer nærmest perfekt i improvisasjonene over låta, omtrent som siamesiske tvillinger, og jeg er sikker på at Monk hadde elsket denne versjonen.
Så får vi «Lulu’s Back To Town» som solo fra Takase. Og låta fremføres omtrent som om det skulle vært Monk som gjorde den, i alle fall i begynnelsen, før hun tar inner-swingen på låta og gjør
den til sin egen, men ikke uten at man kjenner den igjen hele veien.
Så avrundes platen med Schlippenbachs «The Morlocks», som er i et helt annet landskap enn de foregående. Låta er inspirert av H.G. Wells’ roman «The Time Machine». Her jobbes det mye med
strengene inne i pianoet, gjerne fra Schlippenbach, mens Takase raser avgårde på sedvanlig vis, og vi får en fin sammensmelting av mer tradisjonelle «toneganger», eksperimentering og noe som
kan minne om Cecil Taylor på speed.
For et par, tre år siden hørte jeg Schlippenbach og Takase på konsert sammen med deres felles sønn på diverse elektronikk, i en konsert som gjorde meg en smule skuffet. Den gangen syntes jeg
ikke det fungerte. Men som ren duo, og fra Café Amores i Japan, skal jeg hilse og si at det fungerer! Dette er kreativt, spennende, nyskapende og strålende gjort. Schlippenbachs komposisjoner
fungerer perfekt, og «standardene» har fått ny energi og «sprut» gjennom hvordan de to behandler dem. Strålende!
Kang Tae Hwan – Live at Café Amores (Chap Chap/No Business)
Tradition and experimentation need not be oppositional elements in music. Korean altoist Kang Tae Hwan started out playing clarinet in a brass band in elementary school. Conservatory
training followed and an embrace of Dixieland and swing. Then a dalliance with the baritone saxophone and the cool jazz of Gerry Mulligan and on to the sea changes of Coltrane and
Ornette. The solo music on Live at Café Amores recorded in October of 1995 at the eponymous Tokyo venue run by Chap Chap label producer Takeo Suetomi is a different
kettle of Yellowtail still. Evan Parker is an acknowledged antecedent, but the singular and personal aspects of Hwan’s aesthetic are discernable throughout.
Seated cross-legged with horn perched between his ankles, Hwan has the outward appearance of an ascetic in a photograph included in the disc’s booklet. The recital’s five pieces, which
add to just south of seventy-minutes of music, are differentiated on paper solely by Roman numerals. Accompanying essays by Suetomi and Kenya Kawaguchi make explicit and repeated mention
of respiration and its importance to Hwan’s methodology. This performance also apparently signaled a break with the altoist’s earlier approach where single pieces routinely stretched to a
half-hour or longer. Brevity is relative though with three pieces surpassing fifteen minutes apiece.
Timbre and pitch manipulation are other important fundamentals in Hawn’s deliberate and cleanly delineated architectures. In this respect his patterns sometimes resemble those of
the taegum in the blurred and buzzing overtones conjured through the bell. Legato shapes also manifest with regularity as Hawn elongates lines in arcing ribbons that hang
and then atomize into the air. Register limitations of his instrument feel more afterthought than hindrance and he plumbs both upper and lower regions with unerring confidence to the
point that his tightrope excursions in the former successfully mimic the precision and sensitivity of arco string play.
Throughout the performance the audience is uncannily silent and the absence of extraneous or intrusive sounds gives Hwan’s music an even greater meditative cast. Picking out any
antecedents in the music is ultimately a fool’s errand, but there’s no doubting that his embrace of numerous forms of improvised music throughout his evolution as a musician yielded the
consummate expertise on display here. Coltrane was famous for diligent regimen of practice, consuming many hours of the day in the cause. Hwan seems cut from a comparable cloth in that
regard, a player whose vast sum of parts yields the ability to go wherever his muse takes him in the moment.
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.
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! (No Business/Chap Chap)
Colleagues and friendly rivals throughout their occasional associations, bassists Barre Phillips and Motoharu Yoshizawa were also pivotal pioneers on their shared instrument. Oh
My, Those Boys! documents a concert by the pair at a Café in Yoshizawa’s native Japan in the spring 1994. Part of the performance was previously released under the auspices of
producer Takeo Suetomi’s Chap Chap imprint on a 1998 album bearing Yoshizawa’s name. The duo played for nearly three hours that day leaving plenty of additional material worthy of
widespread scrutiny, but Suetomi ended up tabling plans for a second release. Two decades later the Lithuanian label No Business brings the music to light as part of its ongoing Chap Chap
reissue series.
Both bassists developed idiosyncratic and advanced approaches to solo improvisation early in their careers. Neither was a novice at tandem settings at the time of their meeting. Phillips
made such encounters a semi-regular part of his output teaming at various times with Dave Holland, Peter Kowald and Barry Guy among others. Yoshizawa’s recorded dialogues were less
numerous, but included memorable match-ups with Dave Burrell, Derek Bailey and Evan Parker alongside a busy docket spent collaborating with countrymen like Karou Abe and Keiji Haino. He
was also a capable luthier and the instrument he fields here, an electric vertical five-string bass, is of his original design.
Split into two sections of approximately fifty-five and twenty-minutes, the performance is a riveting and elaborately-structured experience in its entirety. Both bassists employ
amplification to further vary their tonal palettes, but to starkly varying degrees. Echo and decay are regular parts of the conversational equation. Spidery pizzicato clusters pour forth
from respective corners, percolating and comingling in a bottom-end stew of bulbous low-frequency sound. Yoshizawa’s strings are distinguishable both in positioning and their malleable
timbral properties, which repeatedly trade the recurring acoustic sharpness of Phillips’ more conventional set for an elastic resonating presence and consolidated weight particularly when
the pair commence to jousting with bows.
Space and silence and spontaneous decisions directing the application of the same are indispensable components to the duo’s success. Even absent the visual aspects of the concert it’s
still possible to sense the cues and communications that determine the action. The strata of arco drones laced with ambient electronics that occupy the middle of the first piece merge
into a grayscale color field of somber string overtones. Phillips’ switch to scuttling fingers against by turns billowing and fulminating formations from Yoshizawa’s electricity-derived
manipulations signals another seismic shift.
An encounter two years later yielded another date for P.S.F.. Some two years after that Yoshizawa took his own life and opportunities for edifying exchanges such as this one came to a
sudden, disheartening halt. What remains of their partnership is a rare example of proverbial boys being boys as an advantageous arrangement.
Derek Taylor
Barre Phillips / Motoharu Yoshizawa: Oh My, Those Boys!
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.
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.
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.
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.
"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.
Cet album ne fait pas partie de la sélection des albums des premiers temps du Free au Japon 1960-80* et pour cause, il a été enregistré le 2 janvier 1996 au café Amores , repère de Takeo
Suetomi qui a produit ledit album. Il s’agit donc là d’une nouvelle et fructueuse collaboration avec NoBusiness.
La configuration du groupe est originale avec une contrebasse (Nobuyoshi Ino) et deux trompettes : Choi Sun Bae et Itaru Oki. On pourra distinguer ces derniers d’une part,
parce que notre Itaru est le seul à jouer des flûtes de bambou qu’il affectionne, et d’autre part, en raison du type de musique joué. Oki a, en effet, choisi de se faire accompagner par des
musiciens mélodistes, mais pas conformistes, se gardant le rôle du trublion, de l’iconoclaste qui lui convient très bien.
Cet album nous propose ainsi des phases où émergent de vraies splendeurs n’ayant rien à envier aux belles heures du hard bop, et des fulgurances stupéfiantes du free, voire
des musiques improvisées.
Ainsi « Pon Pon Tea » s’ouvre sur une contrebasse puissante, puis exposition du thème et très vite, la musique s’emballe. Une embardée d’itaru Oki entraîne son
compagnon à sortir des canons du jazz. Et nos trois musiciens vont ainsi passer de phases balisées à de pures fulgurances. Un très beau et long solo de basse invite les deux trompettes à
venir enfin entrelacer leur chants de métal. Puis de nouveau la basse seule. Nouvelles ponctuations des trompettes, ronflements et stridences d’un côté, jazz-canto de l’autre. Puis, comme
invité surprise, Mack the Knife On le voit ici, comme sur le reste de l’album, la contrebasse joue un rôle majeur, habituée aux défis musicaux.
« Yawning Baku » fait penser à un changement de registre. Un archet insistant, des grondements de trompette et un pur chant d’éveil de la nature aux flûtes.
L’archet encore convoque nos souvenirs de lentes ballades celtiques avant d’explorer plus avant les tréfonds des graves. Un thème comme refusant de s’exposer, tout d’évitement puis quatre
notes répétitives à la basse, qu’on croit reconnaître, qu’on devrait situer à l’âge d’or du bop, permet enfin au thème de sortir des limbes, de scintiller. Mais c’est bien meilleur si c’est
situé dans l’entre deux avec le free, et c’est naturellement Oki, le grand iconoclaste, qui s’en charge. Choi Sun Bae nous gratifie d’un « in the tradition » et quand Oki prend le
relai, on est totalement saisi. On mesure l’ampleur de son talent qui se déploie sur un tapis de basse imperturbable. Retour du leitmotiv de la basse annonçant celui du thème.
Dans l’ouverture de « Ikuru », en revanche, on est pleinement dans l’impro mâtinée d’échos ancestraux du Japon (à la flûte). Une cavalcade au long cours à la basse,
puis une stase à l’archet ouvre le retour d’une mélodie solaire aux trompettes. Les trois discours s’entremêlent, malgré de sauvages griffures, des fulgurances, des intimidations à babines
retroussées, menaçantes, sifflantes de qui vous savez.
« Kami-Fusen » commence par un ostinato à l’archet, qui rappelle l´occident, et un thème qui pourrait être l’hymne d’un pays imaginaire, langoureux, lyrique,
inspiré. À mi parcours, un leitmotiv à la basse fait advenir des couleurs de jazz en particulier par Choi Sun Bae, et des virevoltes
cinglantes, surexcitées d’Itaru Oki, avant le retour de l’hymne.
En exemple de cette musique, le 2e thème, « Yawning Baku », disponible sur Bandcamp :
Au Japon, les artistes n’hésitent pas à dire ce qu’ils doivent à l’occident. Ici, c’est la reprise d’un hommage à Clifford Brown : « I Remember Clifford ». Lyrisme
tout en retenue, émouvant, en un pur solo, pour dire avec modestie toute l’admiration due à un illustre prédécesseur. Ce thème, écrit par Benny Gilson, en a inspiré plus d’un, dont Dizzy, Lee
Morgan, Roy Hargrove, et même un saxophoniste, Stan Getz. On dispose d’une vidéo, de Takeo Suetomi, bien évidemment, qui crédite le solo à Itaru Oki.**
Suite de ce salut affectueux au jazz et à son histoire, le dernier thème « Old Folks/Tea for Two ». Plus tout à fait un solo, la basse ayant choisi d’accompagner la trompette. Ici, plus
de fulgurances, de zébrures électriques, mais une forme de recueillement, un devoir de mémoire ... à la mode free, en cassant le rythme, en retardant ou déformant l’exposition du thème, tout
en le laissant reconnaissable.
Cet enregistrement nous donne une fois de plus l’occasion de mesurer l’étendue des talents d’Itaru Oki et des deux compagnons qu’il a choisis. Un album festif et saisissant,
qui éblouit par ses fulgurances, qui séduit et qui émeut.
Il est disponible aussi sous format numérique sur Bandcamp ici :
** Qui à la trompette ? Les images de la vidéo manquant de netteté, on ne peut que croire Takeo Suetomi lorsqu’il le crédite à Itaru Oki. Mais sur Bandcamp où l’album est
proposé, le solo est attribué à Choi Sun Bae. Enfin, All Music affirme doctement que ... c’est l’un ou l’autre.
J'ai pu voir d'autres vidéos où Itaru Oki rendait hommage à Clifford Brown, avec la même retenue. Cela semble être une forme de rituel, de dévotion.
À Itaru Oki de nous dire, s’il lit cet article.
À cette occasion, ce dernier pourrait confirmer ou non que les fulgurances à la trompette sont bien les siennes.
Enfin, en parcourant les vidéos de Takeo Suetomi, j'ai eu l'impression qu'il y avait d'autres enregistrements de ce trio, au même endroit, mais lors de soirées différentes.
Peut-être un autre album de ce superbe trio ?
1. Pon Pon Tea (Itaru Oki) 12:16
2. Yawning Baku (Nobuyoshi Ino) 14:47
3. Ikiru (Itaru Oki) 10:38
4. Kami-Fusen (Nobuyoshi Ino) 9:02
5. I Remember Clifford (Benny Golson) 6:40
6. Old Folks / Tea For Two (Dedette Lee Hill / Vincent Youmans) 11:31
Recorded live on the 2nd January 1996 at Café Amores, 山口県防府市
Engineer: 末冨健夫
Concert produced by 末冨健夫
Mastered by Arūnas Zujus at MAMA studios
Photo of 崔善培 by 松本晃弘
Liner notes by 末冨健夫 and 金野吉晃
Design by Oskaras Anosovas
Produced by Danas Mikailionis and 末冨健夫 (Chap Chap Records)
Co-producer: Valerij Anosov
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.
Ask most open-eared listeners about Japanese music since the 1960s, and they’ll likely talk about the psych and noise scene, the offshoots of Onkyo music movement or maybe the richly
documented electronic music documented by Omega Point on their Obscure Tape Music of Japan series. The free jazz scene in Japan and neighboring countries has been a bit harder to pin
down. PSF nailed the voluminous output by Masayuki Takayanagi and Kaoru Abe and labels like Trio, Japanese Denon and Paddle Wheel put out some great collaborations by musicians like
Masahiko Togashi and Masahiko Satoh. But with the release of two new recordings, the Lithuanian NoBusiness label, has launched a new imprint in collaboration with the Japanese Chap-Chap
Records to document unreleased concerts that took place in Japan in the 1990s, organized to capture cooperative projects by visiting American-European musicians and seminal Asian players.
And with this duo between trombonist Paul Rutherford and drummer Sabu Toyozumi, they have kicked things off in a spectacular manner.
Toyozumi was one of the first generation of Japanese free improvisers, along with Masayuki Takayanagi and Kaoru Abe, starting in the late 1960s. As a member of Takayanagi’s New
Directions, he was instrumental in their scorching torrential sound. His duos with Abe are also well worth searching out. Toyozumi became the only non-American member of the AACM in 1971
(appearing on Anthony Braxton’s Creative Music Orchestra album recorded in Paris that year), and helped foster a fertile scene in Japan while collaborating with visiting musicians like
Rutherford, Peter Brotzmann, Wadada Leo Smith, John Russell, Derek Bailey and others. The drummer was a central participant in a series in the 1990s put on at Café Jumbo in the small
Japanese town of Tokoname where this live recording was captured.
Rutherford, of course, was a seminal member of the free improvisation scene in London. His solos, recordings with the various incarnations of the group Iskra, and membership in Globe
Unity Orchestra, London Jazz Composers’ Orchestra and countless ad hoc groupings put him in the forefront of the development of advanced approaches to his instrument. Rutherford’s only
other duo encounter with a drummer that seems to be a meeting with Paul Lovens but this setting is a natural for him.
Toyozumi and Rutherford prove to be superb partners for each other. Over the course of five expansive improvisations which buck and bridle with exuberant energy, there is a constant
volley of ideas between the two. Thundering duos break open for solo excursions which effortlessly spiral their way back together. The trombonist’s fluid flurries and burred multiphonics
dart and dive across his partner’s barrages with an unfettered ebullience. Toyozumi’s open sense of flow, pinpoint attack, keen ear toward texture and color and deep listening is evident
throughout. Moving from chattering textures to cymbal spatter to full on thunder, his sense of timing and densities of activity are always in perfect synch with his partner. It is easy
for these types of ad hoc meetings to shamble and lose focus but that never occurs here. The two dive in, know how to leave space for each other, and know how to wrap things to effective
closure. It is great to have this one available and it bodes well for what is to come in the series.
1. The Conscience
2．Beer, Beer and Beer
3．Dear Ho Chi Mihn
4．I Miss My Pet Rakkyo
5．Song For Sadamu Hisada
Concert produced by 久田定
Recorded live at Café Jumbo, 愛知県常滑市, 1999年10月11日
Enjineer: Ryuji Enokida
Album produced by Danas Mikallionis &末冨健夫 (Chap Chap Records)
“SABU”に電話をしてみたところ、丁度ニュージーランドから帰ってきたところだった。
この時の演奏は全くの決め事なしの完全なフリーなインプロヴィゼーションだったという。
したがって曲名もなにもなかったといい、CD化にあたってアルバムのタイトルも曲名も”SABU”がつけたのだそうである。
たとえば、(2)＜Beer, Beer and Beer＞、ラザフォードはビールが大好きで朝からビールを飲んでいたので曲名にしたというし、ラザフォードが強力な共産党員でホー・チ・ミンをアイドルとしていたことを思い出して(3)は＜Dear Ho Chi Mihn＞と名付けた。
(4)＜I Miss My Pet Rakkyo＞のRakkyoとはちゃぷちゃぷレコードのオーナー末冨健夫さんが飼っていた猫の名前、(5)＜Song For Sadamu Hisada＞はこのコンサートを主催してくれた久田定さんへの感謝の気持ちを込めて名付けたのだそうである。
このように全くのフリーの場合は曲名と演奏に深い相関はなさそうである。
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.
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.
––
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.
