CD review: The David Leonhardt Trio: Bach to the Blues

Years ago, a friend gave me a tape (I said years ago) of French jazz pianist Jacques Loussier playing music by Bach. I liked it so much I went looking for more. I now have a collection of “third stream” music, a term coined by composer Gunther Schuller in the 1950s to describe a synthesis of classical music and jazz, complete with improvisation.

I’m pleased to add the recent release by the David Leonhardt Trio, Bach to the Blues (Big Bang, 2009). It’s a diverse collection of tunes that will be familiar to almost anyone with some knowledge of classical music: works by Bach, Debussy, Schubert, Satie, Beethoven, Pachelbel, Chopin, and Copland (“Simple Gifts”). The original themes are clearly stated before the trio—Leonhardt on piano, Matthew Parrish on bass, Alvester Garnett on drums—takes off and does its jazzy, bluesy thing.

Some reviewers tiptoe around this kind of music, as if the conflation of classical with jazz is bound to offend sensibilities in both camps. How is it any different from jazzing up a Sigmund Romberg tune (“Lover, Come Back to Me,” “Softly, As In a Morning Sunrise”) or turning “Someday My Prince Will Come” from Disney’s Snow White into a jazz standard? Simple answer: It isn’t any different. Any tune with good bones can be played as jazz.

Leonhardt’s arrangements are delightful. Bach’s Prelude in G Major starts off fairly straightforward (with jazz syncopations—no classical musician would play the opening in quite this way) before settling into a sweet, swinging groove interspersed with occasional straight phrases (brief reminders of the original) that act as transitions between inventive solos by all three trio members. Much of the final minute and 15 seconds is as Latin as Tito Puente. Unexpected and joyful.

Debussy’s “Claire de Lune” is played as a big, beautiful jazz ballad, with thick piano chords and depth in the bass and drums. It’s mood music with piano at the forefront. Same for Schubert’s “Ave Maria,” though it takes a long time—almost halfway through the 4:15 track—for the piano to move beyond the melody.

Satie’s “Gymnopedie No. 1” is such a simple tune, but one with endless possibilities, and this trio explores them all. (While Loussier takes a dreamy, atmospheric approach, Leonhardt is more lively and playful.) Bach’s Prelude in A minor is propelled by whispery bebop brushwork by Garnett on drums and cymbals. (I think he’s using brushes; I have also seen/heard him play with his hands with as much delicacy and precision.) The Adagio from “Pathetique,” one of Beethoven’s most tender compositions, is as poetic as one could hope for, the improvised sections only carrying the poetry further.

Leonhardt’s version of “Simple Gifts,” the Shaker melody Aaron Copland brought into his score for the ballet Appalachian Spring, leaves the melody behind at about 1:30 and ventures into more interesting (to me) improvisational territory, with cooling little cascades of piano notes, then returns to the melody with renewed energy and assertive statements from Parrish’s bass.

Two Chopin mazurkas (G minor and C major), Bach’s Prelude in B-flat, and Pachelbel’s Canon in D, round out the disc, with the G-minor mazurka emerging as my favorite, thanks to Garnett’s addition of a refreshing ting from a little bell and Parrish's lengthy, thoughtful solo. The B-flat prelude has a seriously swinging midsection that once again includes little nods to the original. The C-major Mazurka is bright and sprightly, and while I was sure I never wanted to hear another version of Pachelbel’s hoary old Canon in D, I was drawn into Leonhardt’s: slower, darker, and more measured than the original, minor-key chords given room to fade, mallets soft on drums, bass even softer. I forgot all about the Canon. The final track on Bach to the Blues is enjoyable late-night jazz, intimate and moonlit.

Here’s a video of Leonhardt and his trio playing the G-major prelude at the Iridium in New York City. 

CD Review: Frank Glover: Politico

By Larry Englund

Larry Englund is a freelance writer and host of the weekly radio program Rhythm and Grooves on KFAI Radio Without Boundaries. bb

Clarinetist Glover has created an intriguing recording. While many of the songs may perk your interest, Politico (Owl Studios, 2009) is an album whose rewards may only come with repeated listening to it as a whole. The playing, by Glover, his band-mates, and all involved, is superb. He uses Latin rhythms, notably the tango and the Cuban/Brazilian baion, in an often implied, rather than explicit manner. The arrangements are challenging, whether Glover is using a quartet, jazz orchestra, or string orchestra.

The first two numbers are performed by Glover’s quartet, with Steve Allee on piano, Jack Helsley on bass and Bryson Kern on drums. Allee’s insistent comping, even during his solo, provides the foundation for the opener, "One Way Ticket." Glover plays in the upper registers and has fun with glissandos, while Kern and Helsley quietly push the song along. "Politico" slowly builds from Kern’s use of brushes on cymbals, through double-time solos by Glover and Allee, climaxing with Glover trilling over the others, until the song slows completely, setting up the next tune. "The Last Blue Tang" is a pastoral melody, with Glover accompanied only by strings.

Then it’s back to the quartet for "Concierto Para Quarteto" in three movements. The melody from "One Way Ticket" is used in the first movement, though executed at a much slower rhythm. The quartet’s playing is very seductive, from the deliberate bass solo that opens, to the warmth of Glover’s tone. Kern provides a march-like rhythm to the second movement, with Glover reaching upper registers once again. During the third movement, Kern ably matches the quickening and excitement of Glover’s solo, until all bring the song to a rousing climax.

Glover uses a fourteen piece jazz orchestra for "Plastic Plants." It opens with a repeated note from Allee, followed by Glover stating the melody, which is then repeated by the orchestra. What follows is a strong arrangement that keeps things interesting, whether with a few bars of counterpoint, or the use of bass clarinets and muted trumpets against Glover’s high notes.

Glover again opts for a string section as his accompaniment for "A Thousand Ships," which serves as an epilogue. The melody is simple, with romantic overtones. Glover’s arrangement once again seems pastoral, though this time leavened by a somewhat bittersweet touch. It is over all too soon.

In an age where we are too often electronically tethered to the world around us, this is a recording that deserves attention in the old fashioned sense. Turn off the computer, let your phone calls go to messaging, sit down, and listen to an album that integrates complex compositions, arrangements, and playing into a rewarding experience.

Photos courtesy OWL Studios

CD Review: Tuesday Wonderland: E.S.T.'s Spiritual Journey

Before listening to E.S.T.’s new release, Tuesday Wonderland, I revisited E.S.T. Plays Monk (1995), once a pricey, hard-to-find import and now available for $9.90 from iTunes. Their version of “’Round Midnight” is as moody and lyrical as any I’ve heard, with lush, lovely strings and delicate runs on the piano. “Bemsha Swing” is more clearly E.S.T: Monk’s music, but their style. While many artists can’t play Monk without sounding like Monk (if they’re lucky), E.S.T. isn’t afraid to bend the master’s melodies to their own purposes. It’s a whole new song.

E.S.T. is Esbjörn Svensson on piano, Dan Berglund on bass, and Magnus Öström on drums. Dubbed “Europe’s leading jazz trio,” winner of several Swedish Grammys, named “Best International Act” at last year’s BBC Jazz Awards, they’re the first European jazz group to make the cover of Downbeat and probably the only Swedish jazz group that ever will. Jamie Cullum loves them, and so does Pat Metheny. Keith Jarrett recommended them to Japan’s top promoter. Their thousands of friends on MySpace include Metheny, Wilco, and Bjork. In Scandinavia and Europe, they’re a supergroup, charting gold and/or platinum and filling large venues, for which they bring out the light shows and fog machines. Here across the pond they perform without the special effects and draw smaller crowds, no doubt due to the “jazz trio” label. That’s too bad, because their music is such a wildly eclectic, rhythmically diverse yet utterly absorbing mix—jazz, classical, pop, rock, blues, jam band, drum ’n’ bass, funk, electronic, techno, trippy, a hint of ambient and a dose of grunge—that there’s something for almost everyone.

Released stateside on April 10, Tuesday Wonderland is E.S.T.’s tenth album (eleventh if you count 2001’s compilation Somewhere Else Before). They describe it as connecting directly to their previous release, Viaticum (2005). The word viaticum means “provisions for a journey”—in this case, the music you need as you journey through life. Inspired by Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier, with nods to Bartok, Hendrix, and Radiohead, Tuesday Wonderland is a spiritual journey. While clearly related to Viaticum, it stands firmly on its own. It’s familiar but not predictable, experimental but still accessible if you’re new to E.S.T. and want to check them out. All eleven tracks are originals.

The first track includes a sonic gimmick unworthy of this fine trio. “Fading Maid Preludium” begins with soft, romantic solo piano meanderings by Svensson. Do not turn up the volume on your stereo or especially your iPod to catch the nuances. Forty-eight seconds into this eloquent reverie, Berglund and Öström enter with an explosive crash of cymbals and heavy-metal bass that will knock you out of your chair. The remaining three minutes suggest Iceland’s Sigur Ros without the singers: a blend of acoustic and electronic sounds driven by Berglund’s distorted arco bass and punctuated by Öström’s drums.

“Tuesday Wonderland,” the title track, is sunny and joyous. In Öström’s words, “The title comes from when things start getting new all the time, and life is an adventure. Everything is new in life. It’s a positive time.” Piano and bass match each other note-by-note in a fast-paced dance. Then Berglund hits a switch and takes his bass into the ethereal electronic world he inhabits so comfortably and well. More rhythmic interplay between the three musicians, a touch of bass-driven synthesizer, and we’re left feeling breathless. It’s a tune reminiscent of “Dodge the Dodo” and “Spam-Boo-Limbo,” both high-energy, happy songs from earlier E.S.T. releases.

“The Goldhearted Miner” opens with Svensson plucking the piano strings for a banjo-like sound. Then we’re into laid-back ballad land, with soft piano notes and chords, Öström on swirling brushes, and Berglund playing it straight. Svensson is an avowed admirer of Brad Mehldau, and we can hear hints of Mehldau’s ruminative meanderings. If you’re familiar with E.S.T.’s From Gagarin’s Point of View (1999), this might remind you of the title track.

The plucking that ends “Miner” segues into more that begins “Brewery of Beggars,” but any similarities end almost immediately. The sound is no longer benign, but dark and distant and strange, like a music box heard in a dream. Berglund walks a few notes on his bass, Öström enters with a bang, and we’re off on an eight-minute tear through an ever-changing sonic landscape alternately fierce and tender. This track is worth several listens. Try to ride each instrument in turn and hang on all the way through. At times, Berglund’s bass is the electric guitar at a head-bangers’ ball.

“Beggar’s Blanket” is the calm after the storm, a spare and elegant arrangement that evokes Bach. Briefly, someone sings off-tune (isn’t the culprit usually the piano player?) but otherwise it’s a classic duo. Drummer Öström sits this one out. Why “Beggar’s Blanket”? Tongue-in-cheek titles are an E.S.T. tradition. Favorites from previous CDs: “A Picture of Doris Traveling with Boris,” “In the Tail of Her Eye,” “When God Created the Coffeebreak.”

“Dolores in a Shoestand” is so much fun that it turns into an actual party. The tempo speeds up midway through, and about two minutes from the end we hear clapping and crowd sounds—voices, whistles, maybe ice clinking in a glass. They’re having a good time and so are we. Adding crowd sounds to a studio track can sound strained, but here it works, perhaps because the group genuinely enjoys playing live shows. “We are a touring band,” Svensson says, “and I love it.”

“Where We Used to Live” is another beautiful ballad, reminding us once again that E.S.T. can be a polite, well-behaved jazz trio when they want to. It’s interesting that they want to as often as they do. Despite the light shows and fog machines, Svensson, Berglund, and Öström have made a real commitment to jazz, and when they power down the synths they’re as good as anyone.

“Eighthundred Streets by Feet” merges swirling piano riffs and repetitions with ticking percussion on the firm foundation of Berglund’s bass. Over nearly seven minutes, it slowly grows, adding layers and volume, then pulls back for quiet notes from Berglund, a bit of arco, some sparkling piano, a final crescendo, and fade. Nicely done.

Öström explains the title of the next track, “Goldwrap”: “The feeling of a goldwrap could be a hug when you’re in love.” The song was born on a cassette of musical sketches pianist Svensson recorded two or three years ago. After Viaticum, he returned to the sketches to see what might be there. “Goldwrap” is fast-paced and dazzling. Öström taps a rapid-fire beat on the rims of his drums, Berglund adds his signature fuzzy bass, and Svensson seams it all together with rich, complex piano playing. A “ta-da” on the keys, a lone held note, and it’s over.

“Sipping on the Solid Ground” slows the pace once again and returns to basics: lyrical piano, languid bass and drums. This could be the soundtrack for a late-night kitchen dance with your sweetheart.

The final track, “Fading Maid Postludium,” brings us full circle and ends a journey full of discoveries and surprises. This time, E.S.T. skips the piano opener and crescendos straight from silence into the power chords. Soon the bass and drums retreat, leaving Svensson alone for what you might think is a soft, romantic solo piano close. Not so. After three and a half minutes of complete silence, during which you’ve probably ejected the CD from your car player or thought “What the…?” and fast-forwarded to the next track on your MP3 player, the trio returns for the real ending: ambient electronic noises and rhythms, squeaks and buzzes and hums stitched together with chiming notes from the piano.

Tuesday Wonderland’s predecessor Viaticum also ends with a track that sounds like it’s over long before it is; “What Though the Way” has four minutes of dead space. Similarly, the final track on Good Morning Susie Soho (2000), “Reminiscence of a Soul,” pauses for a long minute, then returns for a big finish. E.S.T. has done this sort of thing three times now, and they should stop. It’s unnecessary and annoying. Mostly, it’s not fair to make us wait.