Lovano, Joe & Dave Douglas (Sound Prints quintet) - Scandal
A beautifully full and velvet tenor sound from Joe Lovano compliments Dave Douglas' crystal clear trumpet articulations in a expressively free and expansive opening tune - Dream State. Here is a better interpretation and description of dreams than Freud could muster, all in a confused and gorgeous haziness. The scandal is yet to come, this is simply a joyous and captivating performance. Joey Baron's broken punctuations to Lawrence Fields' first solo is particularly fitting in the sonic REM we experience here. Next up is Full Sun, a full bodied and more intricate tune, with Dave Douglas' characteristic inventiveness to the fore. Linda Oh rapidly takes centre stage showing her prowess and vast superiority over other famous female jazz bassists who shall remain unnamed. Lovano's solo takes us on one of his unique journeys that take us a long way from the stock Breckerite gutsiness so popular today. Dave Douglas splats plenty of fun language in our direction, clearly exciting Baron on kit. The head here is also played with a freedom and vivacity which is a delight to hear. Fee Fi Fo Fum growls onto the stage next, and it suddenly becomes clear the grand influence Wayne Shorter has had on Joe Lovano, both compositionally and in terms of the kind of improvised interjections Lovano routinely makes. The band sound very much at home with this standard and happily interact in a way that Dave Douglas seems to facilitate so very well. In a sense he continues the legacy of Miles as an enabler of other great musicians. Lovano's tone is at once boxier and mellower than other tenor giants. He plays with what sounds like at first sounds like timbral restraint, but upon listening for longer turns out to be very deliberate and refined. Oh digs in with the time here, demonstrating that even those of an entirely different age (she is but 33), gender and ethnicity to the original jazz greats can engage and own this music in a very meaningful and authentic manner. Sumptuous sonorities follow with Ups and Downs, a brooding ballad with a Gil Evans flavour. Halfway into this track, Fields' has a Garrett-esque moment, with accompaniment all but dissolving as his ivory embrace takes hold. The mood is similar to the opening Dream State. Horn lines enter in a semi-triumphant walk. There is a collective sense of time that works so well, nothing is hurried or dragged, it all sits beautifully. The Corner Tavern is a lighter, comedic moment in the album, with muted trumpet and Baron finding a thousand different colours from his snare. The connection with the tradition istpalpable at many moments in this record, Douglas could be Miles at times if it weren't for his more controlled and centre technical abilities. Lovano also exhibits a lifelong marinading in bebop language but also a very great readiness to step into more uncharted territory. His growls embody Ben Webster, Lester Young and a host of early tenor legends. As an aside I'd like to commend the band name: Sound Prints, which is thankfully not the overly used and seemingly meaningless "soundworld", a word which seems to have become discourse filler in so much writing and speaking about (often otherwise excellent) music. Back to Lovano, this tune was perhaps a little protracted and ends untidily, but the title track that follows more than compensates. The tune meanders from echoes of Naima to bluesy broodings. I wanted more of Baron here, though his ride is reasonably expansive. Lovano seems to tunnel into phrases and then dig his way out through totally unexpected routes. Harmony is very dense at times, and the contrasting sections structure the piece strangely. Another Wayne Shorter classic in the shape of Juju is next, Lovano continuing Shorter's journey from the might and influence of Coltrane. In a limited sense the album is a manual of jazz history, here demonstrating the quirkier free styles that first appeared in the 60s. Douglas employs a great range of colours here, not dissimilar to some of the great Wynton Marsalis' wide pallette, but with a far more open-minded approach to contemporary sounds and innovation. When the head appears midway through, the odd tenor-trumpet blend really draws us back into that dream world, picked up immediately by Oh and Fields. Here Fields' in particular drifts into quasi-minimalist territory, putting the music at the forefront. The harmony is still underpinned somehow, and when familiar ground is reached we feel that wonderful sense of release which the music has been yearning for. The ending to this tune is appropriately long-winded and provides adequate closure in perfect 5ths. Mission Creep pounces about with suave bounds and casual flourishes of arpeggio. Oh has the perfect feel here, playing the head with the horns to full-bodied effect. Baron creeps in and out of driving ride groove. The cascading moans of Lovano in Full Moon are so genuine and are echoed in the style of Mark Turner. Dave Douglas takes a blusier and more assertive approach. In fact, this is characteristic of the album that when soloists come in they often provide a very different commentary to what has previously been presented, but the rhythm section simply slide effortlessly into the new perspective, and not just with the odd harmonic side step or crash cymbal hit, but with whole shifts in feel and groove. The full moon is a fascinating light in the created universe, gazed on for millenia and contemplated in a myriad of ways. It is appropriate then, that the track reflect this. Chattering hats and ride provide a lovely and unusual canvass to the close of Fields' solo. The shortest tune on the record High Noon has Lovano switch to soprano backed up by some of the tightest rhythm section playing on the album. As with so many jazz saxophone players, the soprano perhaps should be left in the case, such a wild beast is it to tame. If one can cope with the sudden drop in intonation and tone quality then there's plenty to enjoy, but this spoils an otherwise fantastic short number. The superstitious may like to know that none of our eminent Sound Prints are in fact Libras. The less gullible may need to be informed that Libra's symbol is that of scales, and balance. Balance is certainly present in the album's swan song, named after the astrological sign, in as much as (barring the piano intro) all members of the band play almost entirely through the whole tune. A beautifully conceived album, worthy of revisiting.