Cecil Taylor "Olu Iwa"
Borah Bergman with Evan Parker "The Fire Tale"
Nelly Pouget "Le "Vivre"
Reviewed by Scot Hacker
Recorded eight years ago, Olu Iwa serves as a bridge of sorts between what are, in my opinion, two of Taylor's most crucial works: Winged Serpent and In Flourescence. Less violent than the former, less verdant than the latter, it shows him, as always, in a state of transition. Here his piano is galloping more than it is hammering -- but his are heavy hooves, and they land in the soil of his band with confidence and relentless forward motion."B Ee..." features The Unit in a slow-build-and-fade cycle. The first ten minutes of the piece are pensive and colloquial -- scattered percussion and horns dart around sparsely, framing piano licks which can only hint at the magnificent gestures to come. Barker forseshadows later cyclonic flurries with poignant, ringing touches. Wright and Brotzmann push only slightly against the walls, while Parker and McCall dance around a tacit, barely stated rhythmic underpinning. But as the piece flows inevitably into its fate, Taylor leads the band into orgasms of sound, flying all flags to the wind and holding nothing back. By the time Brotzmann begins his forceful wail, the focus is on nothing but pure energy, raw and unrepentant. But soon, spaces again open up in the thicket. Breathing room is created, the Africa of Barker's wooden keys comes forward, and McCall rings out with animal noises from the bush. The Unit moves through this section slowly, and then rises again into another prolonged roar. Finally, Taylor's voice can be heard as if from afar moaning out something in a strange tongue. Though subsumed into the background here, it seems like a precursor to the vocalizations of the soon-to-come Chinampas and In Flourescence.
Though less discordant, "Olu Iwa" is just as energetic as the first track. Coming now through the vehicle of the quartet, Taylor is accorded the space in which to play more light-heartedly. He and McCall are of one mind -- Taylor is as much percussionist as pianist, and McCall is (or was) an extremely melodic drummer. Together they create a complex, crytsalline structural entity which seems to take on a life of its own. Barker and Parker form a ring around the structure, circumscribing the construction space with organic forms. The piece closes with a couple minutes of tribal tambourine behind Taylor's guttural exclamations. It is as if the internal rhythms of the piece are being stated bluntly for the first time in 25 minutes, giving the listener at last the skeleton of majesty.
This recording is a poem in two verses, one which describes without words the inner world of Cecil Taylor at a time of budding transition, and an increasing tendency toward the use of ritual. As is the case with much of Taylor's music, there is little that can be legitimately said about it. It is intended to be experienced, not analyzed. Becoming involved in this music is an experience bordering on the mystical.
Borah Bergman has been involved in the New York improvised music scene for at least 20 years. This, his fourth recording for Soul Note, is a tense study in suspension and release. Like Taylor, Bergman is a highly melodic player, but in the most abstruse of ways. He builds structures of difficult elegance at the Steinway, only to tear them down at a moment's notice. Friends had encouraged Bergman to hook up with Parker for years: their first meeting took place at London's Institute of Contemporary Art in 1983, followed by a collaboration at Waterloo, Belgium in '85.
Throughout (2), melodies seem to arise and be destroyed practically in the same breath, confounding the listener who foolishly seeks permanent footholds. "I often hear phrases as beginning and ending at the same time, so they seem to stand still," he has said of his work. Parker, of course, is one of the more masterful horn players and collaborators of our time. While his style is continually elusive, as a co-player he is difficult to elude, always in perfect alignment with the ideas of fellow improvisors. Bergman has said of him, "Evan can be so on top of my phrasing that I'll purposely change direction to create tension."
And this is precisely what happens here. At break-neck pace, the two meet and collide, intertwine, and separate again. Both as individuals and as co-conspirators, the two create and demolish themes over and over, sometimes working several themes simultaneously.
Bergman calls this technique "ambi-ideation," the practice of keeping two or more ideas up in the air at the same time. As Bergman was once a horn-player himself, he is able to produce horn-like lines with his left hand while the right moves tangled chord blocks around. Parker at times alternates rapid-fire between low-register hits on the tonic and upper-register inventions.
Of these four pieces, only the introduction to Red Shadows could be said to be of a contemplative nature. Here the listener is able to thoroughly dissect the proceedings, to mentally pick apart the suggestions and innuendo, leads and responses. Bergman throws out bait -- a sweet, perplexing series of hovering notes. Suddenly, in a blinding flash, Parker bites, and a struggle ensues. Parker's soprano flaps rapidly in the water as Bergman reels him in, coming closer to the surface, foam splashing in the sun. It is amazing to hear how instantaneously Parker responds to the shifts in tempo and mood. There is seldom any noticeable lag-time between the introduction of an idea and Parker's full-scale involvement in it. While Parker sometimes introduces the ideas, this is clearly Bergman's project -- his role, both compositionally and melodically, is prominent.
One of the fiercest tracks here, "Ascent Through the Vortex," refers to Tristano's "Descent Into the Maelstrom" It is indeed a whirlwind. In 18 minutes the pair seem to move through a thousand permutations of natural energy, shaping with their bare hands impossible sculptures of sound. Bergman claims that "Helixian" refers to the piece's curved shape. "You might think of a double helix, DNA, as the piece revolves back into itself." Whether they succeed at replicating the structure of life's building block depends on the listener's perspective, but no one can miss the primordial nature of the improvisation.
When asked how Bergman would describe his musical experience with Evan Parker, he answered, "One word. Profound." After listening to this, I'm sure Parker would have answered the question in the same way.
Although (3) is only Pouget's second recording, evidence of a remarkable talent is at hand. As a saxophonist, she presents strong control of percussive and melodic elements. Though her tone is a little nasal, she plays tenor with a mighty attack and well thought-out statements evocative sometimes of Archie Shepp. The band she has assembled for this date fairly blaze, as one might expect of key musicians from the French/Europen scene in concert with a few of America's long-dedicated hard cores.
The record comprises nine curiously constructed originals -- tunes with highly inventive, multi-layered parts running sometimes at right angles to each other. While the arrangements work more often than not, there are moments when rhythm and lead sections seem to be working at cross-purposes. However, this is not necessarily a bad thing, but rather part of Pouget's vision of orchestrated dissonance. She is able to take highly arranged structures and superimpose total improvisatory freedom without losing sight of the whole.
As far as players go, all involved perform with great discipline and sympathy for Pouget's unusual compositions. Tapscott, Carter, and Cyrille create a rhythmic bottom line that exists in a more or less continual state of contained internal combustion. Tapscott runs furiously, then hides, then darts out from behind unexpected trees. Unlike several of his European co-players here, Tapscott's somewhat angry playing carries the cultural weight of Watts, his home turf. Godard and Jenny-Clark, if slightly lacking in conviction, compensate with what seems greater sensitivity to Pouget's leads. For me, some of the highest passages are the Cyrille/Siracusa percussion duets. Like Cyrille's intense duets with Vladimir Tarasov, these two throw out all preconceptions of how much music two drummers can make.
-- Scot Hacker
(1) CECIL TAYLOR
OLU IWA
SOUL NOTE 121139
B Ee Ba Nganga Ban'a Eee! / Olu Iwa (Lord of Character). 75:31
Track 1: Taylor, p; Earl McIntyre, tb; Peter Brotzmann, ts, tarogato, Frank Wright, ts; Thurman Barker, marimba, perc.; William Parker, b; Steve McCall, d.)
Track 2: Taylor, Barker, Parker, McCall. Rec. 4/12/86.
(2) BORAH BERGMAN WITH EVAN PARKER
THE FIRE TALE
SOUL NOTE 121252
The Fire Tale / Red Shadows / Ascent Through the Vortext / Helixian Steps. 56:52.
Borah Bergman, p; Evan Parker, ss. Rec. 3/90
(3) NELLY POUGET
LE VIVRE
MINUET REGARDS LH 27292
Le Vivre / Minuit Regards / Be'be' Ange / Les Poissons / Danceur / Huoristique / Amour Ange Ange Amour / Nina Be'be' / Variations de Clartes. 71:00
Nelly Pouget, ts,ss; Horace Tapscott, p; Kent Carter, b; Andrew Cyrille, d; Michel Godard, tba; Jean-Francois Jenny Clark, b; Gerard Siracusa, perc. Rec. 1993.
[Writers] [Birdhouse]