Canadian Audiophile’s Mishaps and Misadventures

And there she was. The woman in red drew attention to herself like a crimson angel on the wrong side of town on a stormy night where nothing was what it seems and everything was just a little…different.

I approached her from across the crowded smoky room with a drink in my left hand, and a lighter for her cigarette in my right. Ready for anything, I calmly drew near and flicked the flame out just in time. Her cigarette greeted my warm flame like two lovers who hadn’t seen each other for a while. She smiled.

I stole a glance at her figure quickly, hoping to go unnoticed by the dame in red. She had a body that’d make a bishop kick out a stained glass window and lips that seemed to say “Thank you, I’m yours.” Her purse was slung over her left shoulder and she held it tight as though protecting something.

Everybody’s protecting something here.

In the middle of all of this smoke – or is it smoke and mirrors? – comes Larry Vuckovich and his gang of jazz thugs. Without warning, the sounds of High Wall: Real Life Film Noir fill the crowded smoky room and people are paying attention to something else besides their drinks and besides their respective women in red.

See, Larry’s a pro.

He’s what hipsters in jazz call a “rare bird.” Proud of his Slavic heritage and making no jokes about his love for film noir, Vuckovich has been filling smoky rooms with beautiful music as though it flows straight from his veins. 2006 saw Street Scene, a critically-acclaimed marvel that saw him join with stellar jazz musicians under a dim street lamp somewhere to create gorgeous and haunting sounds. With the page turned midway on 2008, High Wall: Real Life Film Noir picks up where Street Scene left off.

Vuckovich has composed High Wall because of his interest in the themes of deception, false accusations, and The Big Lie. Perhaps for me, The Big Lie is somewhere in the red woman’s purse.

Based on a 1947 film noir of the same name, Vuckovich’s High Wall references the barrier to the truth that we all sometimes wind up facing. Larry knows that barrier well, having grown up in a Communist regime in Yugoslavia. Throughout his life, he’s looked for the truth wherever he can find and has produced music based around that search for reality.

The musicians joining Vuckovich must be searching for the same sense of truth because the musical cohesion as evidenced in the arrangements is truly something special. Larry’s accomplices move through a variety of tones, taking on Afro 6/8 rhythm in “Afro 6/8 Minor Blues” and sweeping through film themes in Bronislaw Kaper’s “High Wall” or his own composition “View from Telegraph Hill.”

Vuckovich also works through jazz-funk with precision (“Put It Where You Want It”) and organizes his crew through classic blues patterns on Coltrane’s blazing hot “Locomotion.”

As I find myself drifting off through the Eastern European patterns of “Gypsy Roma Mambo (Dark Eyes),” I start to realize that the woman in red is gone.

Frantically, I turn around and look behind me for just a glimpse of the sweet crimson dress or the beautiful lips. She’s gone. Nothing remains but a memory and the eerie possibilities of The Big Lie in her purse.

8/10

For deeply introspective and powerful instrumental post-rock/metal, Russian Circles are tough to beat. Alternating cogently between jarring slow passages and thundering heavy metal textures, the Chicago-based trio formed in 2004 and has since been releasing expansive soundscapes with incredible consistency.

Station marks the group’s second full-length album. It is constructed with intense care and attention to detail. Each note unfolds like a petal on a dark rose, adding mood and ambience to the profoundly engaging compositions.

Fans of Russian Circles will likely find less heaviness on Station, which may be disappointing for fans who know what they want. Some may even find the record to be somewhat underwhelming. With expectations of mammoth metal violence, the light and calculated guitar found throughout Station will be unexpected.

The intensity of the compositions should not so easily be cast aside, however. This is one hell of a great record. Station is filled with enormous levels of texture, with some songs sounding like classic Tool and others flowing more like symphonic arrangements.

Regardless of the possible influences, Russian Circles have composed a series of seven masterpieces.

Station expands with steady intention and dispenses with “thundering for thundering’s sake” type metallurgy. Instead, the trio builds songs appropriately and efficiently.

The heavy metal bursts arrive as the innate expansion of dominant construction and not simply as an expected emblem of the band’s sound. When guitars rip through the shell, it’s because they belong there as a natural element and not because they simply exist in the genre as an accepted part of the madness.

It will certainly be said that there’s a bit too much substance here to go around and that will be a suitable appraisal for those who enjoy their music in certain containers. For the rest of us, however, the eagerness to follow the rabbit hole is a gratifying journey.

Russian Circles play with ambience and electronic pieces here, adding cement to tracks like the excellent “Youngblood” without sacrificing the essence. The turbulent guitar rips through the surface to provide an inconceivable experience.

Other tracks rise and crash down like massive waves, such as the ill-omened “Harper Lewis” or the Tool-esque “Station,” both of which hurtle and collide as though in the midst of a violent tempest.

That tempest controls Station, pushing and pulling the music in multiple directions for a serious sonic attack. The seven-song-squall is a post-rock lovers’ dream, a hazardous kaleidoscope of might and madness, and a damn good rock record worthy of several spins with speakers gutsy enough to handle it.

9/10

Jorge Reyes has been one of the great innovators of the double-bass in Cuban music, layering his sound with such profound depth that his instrument isn’t confined to the back of the orchestra but rather takes center stage. He plays it like a lead instrument, coaxing melodies out of the lower register and easily moving between roles as a support rhythmic player to a central character in his compositions.

With De Todo Un Poco (A Little bit of Everything), Reyes bounces merrily between both roles. He also serves as bandleader on each track and is the composer of many of the album’s instrumentals. Jorge’s command of his quintet (Reyes on bass, Carlos Averhoff Jr. on tenor sax, Emilio Morales on piano, Giraldo Piloto on drums, and Adel González on percussion) is notable not only in the flexibility of the music but also in the interaction between the band’s instruments. Each song is like a conversation.

That interaction works best when Reyes is experimenting with different tempos and making alterations in the rhythms. The album’s opener, “Do-Do,” bounces bravely as an introduction and quickly changes pace with its enthusiastic percussion.

Reyes employs related Cuban flavours throughout De Todo Un Poco, straying from his roots just long enough to play with other melodies and tempos. On “Contraste,” the use of tap percussion and drums flows logically from the song’s vivacious introduction and Reyes’ bass takes the lead. Percussion explodes on “Descarga 2003,” a rousing number highlighted by claps and a rock-and-roll melody.

The tender vocals of Evelyn Garcia Marquez are featured on three songs, adding depth to the record. “Realidad y Fantasia” from Cesar Partillo de La Luz has a jazz standard feel, while the nature of “Obsesión” focuses on the heart-rending dialogue between Marquez’s beautiful lamentations and Reyes accompanying bass.

Reyes ends things with the bass and percussion interchange of “Con-Tumba y Con-Trabajo” and leads it into Billy Strayhorn’s standard “Take the A Train,” giving the latter a pile of amped-up Cuban tang and an flood of percussion to fill in the gaps. Reyes’ take on Strayhorn’s inimitable standard is energetic and high-spirited.

Jorge Reyes’ dazzling De Todo Un Poco really does supply a little bit of everything. His knack for using rhythms of folk, blues, jazz, Cuban and world music, and even a little bit of rock and roll shows his zeal for music and his need to expose the world to the endless possibilities of music.

8/10

Artists like Paquito D’Rivera don’t come around very often, yet this virtuoso of the flute, clarinet, and sax forms an instant relationship with the listener. Relationships are based on trust, and one can trust D’Rivera to play his heart out and allow the music to flow over the confines of the composition into something spectacular.

While Paquito is absurdly talented, he is also very accessible. Perhaps that’s a part of his charm, as his music readily fits in at the snazziest high-end gatherings and the most down-home joints without losing any of its fire.

So when the Bele Bele Jazz Club series compiles a collection of virtually unknown recordings from Paquito D’Rivera, it requires attention. The eleven cuts found on The Lost Sessions are taken from a period between 1976 and 1978. While it’s quite a narrow period in time, it’s also an extremely diverse period for Paquito and the other performers on this disc.

The songs are unwilling to be confined into particular genres, giving this anthology an almost felonious feel. It seems that it doesn’t matter who Paquito plays with, as the tunes simply have a desire to jump out of the speakers and begin dancing around mischievously. And that’s just what happens as The Lost Sessions spins.

These songs beg for motion from the listener; most of them are simply impossible to remain still through. Regardless of how hard I tried, my left foot wouldn’t stop tapping to the contagious grooves of “Mi Pequeña Anna.” Paquito is joined by the Finland Jazz Combo for the first three tracks on the album, adding a taut backing collective to his sizzling Cuban jazz tendencies.

The remainder of the album was recorded in Cuba, firmly entrenching the tracks in an environment of flavour and spice. At the same time, Paquito’s sound is also drenched in all sorts of 70s style. The compositions drip with biting wit in some cases, packed with organs and different sorts of effects to plant the sounds in the psychedelic tone of the time.

“Canción a Palia” is a nasty bit of jazz business, sped ahead full blast with an addictive percussion rhythm. It’s Carlos Emilio Morales’ guitar that puts this one over the board, though.

Other tracks take a disco rhythm and infuse it with Cuban jazz, creating a sound worth several repeat listens. The sort but sweet “Pulgarcito en Guanabara” is an example of this. Pay attention to the sudden ending. You can’t miss it!

The Lost Sessions from Paquito D’Rivera deserved to be found. With high-spirited ecstasy sprinkled throughout this recording, it’s a hard album to sit still through and an even harder album to listen to just once. Using Cuban jazz standards with sweltering percussion and special effects, Paquito’s compositions capture the sound of the 70s with unyielding glee and demonstrate his skills as a true giant of the woodwinds.

8/10

Stanley Jordan is one of the slickest jazz guitarists around. His expansion of the touch technique has made him legendary in jazz circles. Jordan’s method allows him to play melody and chords at the same time, creating a cascade of sound. His new album uses this cascade of sound to create a set of songs relating to a theme very close to his heart: Mother Earth.

State of Nature will be released on April 22 (Earth Day), with no coincidences ever intended. Jordan’s album carries a theme of native beauty, as each song picks up on a different part of nature and draws on the visual aspects of music to epitomize his concepts.

“Part of the reason I made this album were revelations I discovered in my journey to try to become a better person,” Jordan states. He goes on to elaborate, adding that the idea of taking care of the environment never seems to render human action. “What is it about humans that makes us so intelligent and yet so unwise?”

This thought process would prove to be the underpinning for State of Nature, as the guitar genius weaved the structures for several songs with notions of ecological issues, global warming, and the corrosion of nature. The music celebrates life while also exploring our part in the changing climate and the “state of nature.”

Musically diverse, State of Nature uses classical, jazz, and rock textures to provide a milieu for Stanley’s message of penance and accord with the earth. “A Place in Space” starts things off, provoking thoughts of the scale of the universe. Jordan swings for the fences in “All Blues,” one of the album’s best tracks.

Whether he’s weaving together the traditional strains of Mozart (“Mozart’s Piano Concerto #21”) or taking on a Joe Jackson joint (“Steppin’ Out’), Stanley’s work is free and bold. He often sizzles, producing infuriatingly intricate sounds from his supernatural guitar. The incredible riffs found on “Shadow Dance” prove his talent movingly.

With this album, Stanley Jordan manages to say more about the real state of nature than any amount of protest music or Al Gore docs ever could. His music is striking, stylish, and commanding. His synthesis of various styles ensures that his reflection on the ways of life will resound with fans of all different types of music, making State of Nature an extraordinary work of great power and possibility.

7/10

I’m pretty sure Jason Kao Hwang has a little bit of crazy in him. Along with his group EDGE, Hwang has constructed a maddening sea of storytelling with Stories Before Within. Before we go any further, EDGE is comprised of Hwang as composer and violinist (he also plays the viola on one track), Taylor Ho Bynum on cornet, Andrew Drury on drums, and Ken Filiano on string bass. Stories Before Within is Hwang’s second recording with EDGE, the first being 2006’s Edge.

It’s telling that “Cloud Call,” the album’s first track, begins with Filiano making his presence known with a haunting strike of his bass and a yell. The song moves like a terrifying movie chase, maybe like something out of a Hitchcock movie. A car loses its brakes and skids. Jimmy Stewart is driving and the roads are slick as hell. Hwang and Filiano taunt us half to death before cutting the lights about halfway through for Bynum’s cornet. His solo helps us forget the chase for a moment, lulling us into that false sense of security storytellers love so much. Then, when nobody’s looking, the song draws its close on creaks and groans as though the killer has made her way inside the house.

Naturally, the exposition of this type of avant-garde jazz is so highly subjective that it’s almost impossible to place the music in an objective universe. What Hwang and EDGE do so well is grant their listener permission to assemble his or her own stories. The songs unfurl like conversations, like wise sages rousing us and heeding us with their expressive call.

“From East Sixth Street” is a soulful piece of music with eccentric cadence, teasing strings, and euphoric flares from Bynum. The composition hearkens back to Hwang’s time in Manhattan in a little apartment and one feels the wistfulness in the piece. “Walking Pictures” sneaks into the picture as Filiano and Hwang toy with each other in a cat-and-mouse intro. The shifts and adjustments in the song take us from jazz to blues to a free-for-all without a glitch.

“Third Sight” has an Asian feel from birth as it marches its way forth. The sound is full and amiable, teeming with Korean influences. “Embers” serenely closes out the record with a sort of sorrow and gravity, as though behind a funeral procession. Perhaps we’re mourning the ill-fated victim of the murder from “Cloud Call.”

Hwang and EDGE meld together impeccably as a quartet, drawing potency from weakness and producing splendidly lingering sounds for the tenure of this enchanting record. The title, Stories Before Within, perfectly expresses the storytelling that takes place here, as the tales absorb themselves in the spirit of the listener and surpass time to dwell in the province possessed only by imagination.

8/10

Deepak Ram is a multitalented artist probably best known for his work in traditional North Indian classical music. He’s collaborated with musicians from around the world and is a gifted composer in his own right. Ram plays the bansuri, an alto flute from India, Pakistan, and Nepal. The bansuri has a deep tradition and is linked to the love story of Krishna and Radha. As the myth describes, the bansuri was said to be used by Krishna in his rasa lila (roughly translated to mean “performance play”) as he drove the women wild.

Deepak Ram learned to drive the women crazy in 1975 as he began his formal training under Sri Jeram Bhana in South Africa. Ram headed to Mumbai, India, two years later to continue training under India’s master flute maker, the late Sri Suryakant Limaye. Ram continued to study under several masters of the instrument, learning more each time. In 1996, he earned a Masters degree in music from Rhodes University in South Africa.

Since then, Ram has gone on to make albums that have explored his ingenuity and his technical dexterity with the bansuri. He has six solo albums to his credit and worked with various musicians, including Melvin Peters and Darius Brubeck. Ram’s bansuri is heard on various movie soundtracks, including The Fast And The Furious, Matrix Revolutions, and Stealth. His music is also featured on a variety of Indian films, including Maya.

With Steps, Ram explores the world of jazz. Naturally, the flute is nothing new in the world of jazz music. Herbie Mann, Charles Lloyd, and others have used the flute for decades. The bansuri, though, is just not something that pops up in jazz all that often. So when Deepak Ram pulls out his bansuri to take on Trane’s “Giant Steps” to open his album, things get real interesting real quick.

Ram might be the only person in history to have mastered “Giant Steps” on bansuri, but this simply reflects his life experience with one foot in ragas and the other ensconced in jazz. Ram’s roots in jazz probably have something to do with his upbringing in Sophiatown, a mixed area in South Africa where cultures mingled and many of South Africa’s best jazz musicians were born. With his home pulsing with a combination of Bollywood and his brother’s jazz records, Deepak’s love for music was predestined.

On Steps, Ram explores that combination and the results are exquisite. After “Giant Steps,” Ram pulls away on the affecting “Madiba’s Dance,” a song for Nelson Mandela. Madiba is a nickname for Mandela; it is his clan name and it is used out of respect. The song is dedicated to Mandela, as he is one of few presidents to stand in front of a crowd and dance. With rhythm everywhere in South Africa, it might be impossible not to dance. “Madiba’s Dance” is a special song for Deepak, who plays it to honour Mandela and his struggle.

Following that is the Miles Davis-inspired “Blues for Shyam Babu.” Inspired by the blues changes in “All Blues” by Davis, this number has a touch of Bollywood flavour and was written after Ram saw a child who was just four minutes old. Shyam is another name for Krishna and Babu is akin to “mister.” The song’s gentle sway is moving and the touch of Miles inspiration is perceptible in its flow.

Gershwin is tackled up next with a South African shade and jazzy swing in “Summertime.” The bansuri pulls and sways like a slave woman singing the lyrics of the song to a little girl. Ram describes the song as having a feeling that resonated with apartheid in South Africa, so his tone reflects that conception and the results are striking and lingering.

The son of Dave Brubeck, Darius, penned the gorgeous song “October.” Coltrane is taken on again in “Naima,” as Trane’s inspiration is culled from Indian music on this number. Coltrane described his inspiration on the tune as wanting to echo Indian music. This led to some deep tones and a really full piece of music. Ram delivers the intricacy of the tune with refinement, allowing Trane’s composition to feel inclusive and seamlessly authentic.

Ram looks at Davis’ “All Blues” again and the muse of Kind of Blue is obvious. The bansuri works well with Davis’ classic recording because of the lack of chord changes. Its beauty is in its cleanness and Deepak Ram reflects that expressively. “All Blues” works because it lends itself physically to Indian playing.

The album closes with “My Funny Valentine.” Ram does a nice rendition of the Rodgers and Hart classic, pulling it in and treating it as though it were made for bansuri. Each track on Steps sounds like it was made for bansuri, come to think of it, as Ram plays the modal and breezy jazz with technical aptitude and natural sentiment.

With Ram’s bansuri coaxing freshness out of beautiful classics, Steps is a fantastic album for fans of world music, jazz, and blues. It breaks new territory for Deepak Ram and is a grand introduction to the flute master’s flair and proficiency with the bansuri. The backing band is great, with Vic Juris on guitar, Tony Marino on bass, and Jamey Haddad on percussion. Steps is a nice inclusive little recording that is adeptly executed and slickly rich in quality.

8/10