By Don Phipps
Developed in the mid-19 th century, New York City’s Central Park remains a lasting monument – a large “backyard” or “garden” that the whole city can access and enjoy. So dominant is its presence within the city, one might consider it the equivalent of the Eiffel Tower of Paris, the Vatican of Rome, Victoria Peak in Hong Kong, or San Francisco’s Coit Tower. Its beauty is immediate – a wonderful patch of green amidst the overwhelming magnitude of concrete and high-rise buildings. Those that have visited the park frequently know that even though its character changes with the seasons, it always retains its charm and attractiveness.
Clearly trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith and pianist Amina Claudine Myers understand how Central Park can evoke feelings of awe and yet provide intimate reflection. Their album, “Central Park Mosaics of Reservoir, Lake, Paths and Gardens,” offers up a wide array of emotions – from intense yearning to tragic homage. Smith is a cornerstone of free jazz, with contributions that date back to the late sixties when he joined the late Muhal Richard Abrams to create the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM), a group that includes such luminaries as Anthony Braxton, Roscoe Mitchell, George Lewis, and Amina Claudine Myers. In addition to her involvement in the AACM, Myers was one of the first women jazz artists to form her own group (I got to see her in Boston in the late 70s – the first time I experienced a jazz ensemble led by a woman).
There is a foreboding mood that pervades much of the music on this album. It is one that evokes deep meditation, a sort of reflection of the various edifices referenced. Take the opening, “Conservatory Gardens,” where Myer’s subtle development stands in contrast to Smith’s full-throated elegy. Or the sadness that is at the heart of “Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir.”
Myer’s touch is on full display in “When Was.” As on the other pieces, this solo effort is marked by her technique of striking notes on the piano with an unerring exactness. The piece also gives Myer’s a chance to open up a bit, as her hands dance lightly on the keys – almost in ballet dance fashion. On “Harlem Meer,” she uses bluesy chords to set just the right mood beneath Smith’s muted trumpet lines.
In “Central Park at Sunset,” Smith’s horn evokes a mighty titan facing a turbulent wind as the sun sets. Smith never shies away from a reflective approach, extracting a microcosm of life in each note, a distillation of all that is meaningful and heartfelt. These singularities are both poignant and whimsical – a tribute to the park and its structures. Crafted with love, Smith explores each tune within a symmetry of joy, awe, and respect.
The last two numbers are especially noteworthy – “Albert Ayler, a Meditation in Light” and “Imagine, a mosaic for John Lennon.” There are episodes of sadness mixed with honor in these compositions – music that speaks to significance and remembrance. Both men were sadly lost to the world at too young an age.
What makes this album noteworthy is its lack of flash – no mad runs along the instruments or hard turn dynamics. Smith and Myers eschew these kinds of outbursts in favor of a poetic yet powerful approach. Those who have experienced Central Park, the seasonal changes, the morning, afternoon and evening moods, and its various monuments, will identify with the music here – a grand requiem to a notable landmark known for its ability to provide a welcoming solace in the middle of a hectic, bustling city. Highly recommended.
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