Rempis/Adasiewicz/Corsano - Dial Up (Aerophonic, 2025)

 

By Brian Earley

 

Dial Up, Aerophonic Records’s release from December 26, 2025, encounters listeners with ambition and possibility. What begins with two unassuming vibe hits on the album’s opener “Cutups” from Jason Adasiewicz soon forms the melodic and ensemble motif for the outing. Drummer Chris Corsano responds in kind with two unassuming drum hits of his own. Dave Rempis waits, and when he sounds his first notes they arrive in a different key than the vibraphonist established at the work’s opening. The entire date, or rather dates (the album is culled from two live recordings in January and February 2025), features this collaboration of spontaneous negotiation.

An entirely improvised set of pieces, the work finds itself at home with most Aerophonic recordings of Rempis. While this album displays group spontaneity and an increasing build to a musical nexus of volume and intensity, this work is remarkable for its push-pull series of emotional exchanges. When I try to remember what January 2025 felt like, I recall tremendous uncertainty. For me, this record is a document of feeling: it holds for posterity what it felt like to be alive in the United States as the country slid into transition.

At the center of the album lies its longest work, “One Dollar Cheaper.” Adasiewicz opens calmly, playing a soft but insistent pattern of open voicings. Rempis enters on tenor, and soon is hollering, his saxophone reaching towards some yet unheard realm where all sound bursts into shattered infinity. But the horn soon flutters notes and exits, leaving Adasiewicz and Corsano to play a duet of traditional Eastern world Dixieland swing, as though such a thing existed. Mystery is here, but so is humor. When Dave returns, he forwards this joy and soon is playing rising sequences of five notes that sound like the voice of hope itself. However, within moments Jason’s vibes begin to fall in single notes and Corsano’s drums gather a slow-rolling thunder. Around the 8:30 mark Rempis is screaming over and over again, thrusting at the barriers of sonic dynamics. It is the sound of pain. The music wobbles and rights itself until it seems to stop entirely, but Corsano enters with washes of cymbals, Adasiewicz plays one and three note patterns, and Rempis rises from the ashes to swirl in harmonious unity with the others. This time there is unity only in lamentation. All is not well in the world. The song enters its darkest night of grief before Rempis continues walking, walking until new sonic landscapes suggest at least other possibilities, if not the promise of new life.

Of course Rempis and company are not actually making any of these emotions; they are producing only sound. But how wonderful it is to live in a universe where vibrations on the air produce and mimic what is central to feeling alive. It is exactly what we needed in early 2025, and it is a balm for the rising 2026.

The album is available artist direct at https://www.aerophonicrecords.com/dialup.

 

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Adam O’Farrill – For These Streets (Out Of Your Head Records, 2025)

By Don Phipps

Looking at the landscape of modern jazz, one marvels at the abundance of musicians who not only perform spontaneously at a high level, but who write the kind of compositions found on Adam O’Farrill’s double album For These Streets . O’Farrill creates an ethereal and fascinating work or art that blends dreamy landscapes, holographic voicings, and poetic abstractions.

The magic of this album, though, cannot be solely ascribed to O’Farrill’s tunes or top-notch playing. Of near equal importance was his choice of bandmates, many of whom are artists of the highest caliber. This group consists of Mary Halvorson (guitar), Patricia Brennan (vibraphone), David Leon (alto saxophone and flute), Kevin Sun (tenor saxophone and clarinet), Kalun Leung (trombone and euphonium), Tyrone Allen II (double bass) and Tomas Fujiwara (drums). Is it any wonder why a collaboration of such talent might produce such incredible music?

There are two masterpieces – the “Speeding Blots of Ink” and “Late June.” Both approach the 10-minute mark in length, but what an exquisite 10 minutes! “Blots” opens with a syncopated and alternating trombone, trumpet, and bass. As the music develops, the musicians carve out a distinct space. For example, Fujiwara enters with light tapping on the snare, Halvorson starts up with rolling chords and progresses with rapid abstract fingerings above Brennan’s dissonant retorts. And, as on “Swimmers,” O’Farrill creates trumpet arcs that slide along high notes as if pirouetting on ice. The number evolves until every corner is filled with sound. As “Blots” concludes, there’s a sense of awe - like looking up at the night sky – marveling at the stars and their billion-year-old twinkles.

“Late June” offers warm abstract voicings chock full of intricate interplay. The piece highlights Halvorson’s gentle guitar plucks, Brennan’s vibraphone caresses, Fujiwara’s subtle cymbal play, and Allen’s rapid bowing and down low bass solo. As the number progresses, Leon and Sun’s saxes play off against O’Farrill’s trumpet, and Leung joins on trombone with a staggered line that blends perfectly with the sweet dissonant chorus of brass and saxes. Sun’s sensual sax solo sounds like a sunny day at the beach. And Halvorson’s twangy picks towards the end generate a crazy diamond shine (apologies to Pink Floyd).

While all the artists deserve applause, fans of Halvorson and Brennan should simply not pass up this chance to hear their contributions. Halvorson adopts a balalaika style on “And So On,” brings a little Narciso Yepes flamenco flurry behind O’Farrill’s sweet solo on “Streets,” and generates heat with her plucks and chords on “Blots.” Brennan’s solo and pedal work on the short “The Break Had Not Yet Come” is exquisite. Listen to how she takes over on “Migration.” And her playful back and forth with Halvorson and Allen above Fujiwara’s all over drumming on “Swimmers” and the aforementioned “Break,” and with flautist Leon on “Nocturno, 1932,” reveal a dreamy and impressionistic side to her playing – helped along by her delightful use of the pedal. And when Halvorson and Brennan join forces, for example, towards the end of “Migration,” or on “Late June,” there’s magic in the air.

One feels, with every tune, every phrase and every solo, the nuanced guidance of O’Farrill. This is his creation, and his masterful contributions and trumpet/flugelhorn explorations offer up a memorable experience. This is his world, a world that the listener can enjoy again and again. Highly recommended!

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Yellow Belle Quartet - Yellow Belle (s/r, 2025)

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By Sammy Stein 

Hugo Costa is a Portuguese saxophonist based in the Netherlands. He plays in projects ranging from modern jazz to free improvisation, such as Real Mensh, The Garuda Trio, The Land Over Water Trio, Yellow Belle Quartet, The Rotterdam Kinematic Ensemble, and others. He has performed and recorded with musicians, including William Parker, Rodrigo Pinheiro, Raoul van der Weide, Marta Warelis, Alexander Frangenheim, Sofia Borges, Han-Earl Park, and toured extensively in Europe and Japan.

In the Yellow Belle Quartet, Costa is joined by musicians from Barcelona: Clara Lai on piano, Alex Reviriego on double bass, and Vasco Trilla on drums and percussion.

Lai is a pianist and composer who plays multiple genres and is active in the jazz scene in Barcelona, leading ensembles and collaborating with many prominent musicians such as Oriol Roca, Àlex Reviriego, Ferran Fages, Albert Cirera, and more. She has released a variety of recordings on both national and international record labels.

Àlex Reviriego is a member of Phicus, Tholos Gateway, the Liba Villavecchia Trio, and The Devil, Probably, as well as being a solo artist. He has participated in a number of formations of contemporary, improvised, and experimental music. His ferocious, angular style can be heard in dozens of albums released on various European labels as well as in different live settings, ranging from solo, small formations to orchestral work. He runs the experimental tape label Hera Corp.

Vasco Trilla has recorded more than one hundred albums, ranging from free improvisation, to progressive rock and ambient music. He has released albums on Clean Feed Records, Cuneiform Records, NoBusiness, Not Two, and others, and collaborated with Jamaaladeen Tacuma, Ra Kalam Bob Moses, Mars Williams, Patrick Shiroishi, Elliot Sharp, Steve Swell, and more. He has toured internationally and is one of the most in-demand voices of the European free improvised scene.

From the opening track, ‘Transient Moods,’ this album creates a sense of dialogue and connection between the musicians. On the opener, the bass line is subtle and relentless, with sax, percussion, and piano interceding in every conceivable space. The sax lines are melodious while the intricate percussive motifs create a sense of contrast and interact deftly with the piano. In the second half of the track, the mood changes to a reflective atmosphere, enhanced by the almost continuous bell sound in the percussion.

On ‘Soft Buttons’, the sax line meanders across a background of sonic mesh that upholds, reflects, and enhances, creating a track of many parts, including interactive reflection and an intriguing to and fro between the bell-like percussion and the piano that emerges under the sax line to create an uplifting, deeply engaging track. The lightness of the percussion contrasts wonderfully with the depth of sonic texture created by the bass and sax.

‘Dissonancias’ is an explorative track with spiritual essences, while ‘Gracia’ is introduced with a solo from Costa, into which the other musicians drop with delightful gusto, creating an interactive soundscape. The percussion crescendos throughout the number, adding ever more intricate rhythmic patterns that, teamed with the rapid-fire sax provided by Costa, make the track completely immersive. From its opening to the quietude of the ending, this track is five and a half minutes of full-bodied, unleashed free playing.

‘A Lingua dos Passaros’ (Language of The Birds) is aptly named as the ensemble creates a percussive-led, conversive piece akin to an awakening of many different types of sound. Trilla makes full use of the deeper drum sounds to create an atmosphere of strength and power which underlies the track, offset by intricate piano and steadfast bass. ‘Yellow Belle’ closes the album and is the clarion call of the group, encompassing each musician in both solo and support roles, intertwining, and reacting as appropriate, finishing this involved musical conversation that is as relevant to the listener as it is evidently to the musicians.

Costa told me about this recording, “I wanted to play with Vasco Trilla because he's a unique drummer. I've been listening to his records, especially those with Mars Williams as a sax-drums duo, which I love. I invited Vasco to play as a duo and went to Barcelona, where he's based. At the same time, I invited Clara and Alex to play as a quartet. They are both amazing musicians. It was a perfect opportunity to play with all these musicians I admire. We went to the studio and did a session where we played together for the first time as a quartet. The music is dynamic, with everyone listening to each other. There was a great energy between everyone, with each musician bringing their unique approach. We were so pleased with the result that we decided to release it. I also recorded a duo with Vasco, to be released soon.”

Costa has brought together a remarkable set of musicians. They have achieved an album that embodies melody and includes free improvisation and musical understanding that speaks loudly to the listener. The charisma of this ensemble is enchanting, and the music superb.

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....seeing the way the mole tunnels...

James McKain (sax), Damon Smith (bass) and Weasel Walter (drums) produced one of the best albums of last year with "....seeing the way the mole tunnels...". It was a ferocious bit of free jazz mixed with some punk rock attitude. Here they are in concert, joined by Ipek Eginli (piano) and Alex Cunningham (violin). 

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Peter Evans' Being and Becoming - Ars Ludica (More is More, 2025)

By Charlie Watkins 

Peter Evans is one of those tireless musicians whose projects are always dazzlingly original. His band Being and Becoming is no exception, and their newest release, Ars Ludicra, is a fantastic example of Evans’s creative ambition. Combining hip-hop grooves, avant-garde melodies and free improvisation, as well as a healthy dose of electronics, this record is vibrant, modern and infectiously groovy. It is also, it is worth saying, quite different from their previous release, Ars Memoria, which was much more stripped back in comparison to this album’s bold energy.

The band features Evans on trumpet(s), electronics and piano, Joel Ross on vibraphone, synth and percussion, Nick Jozwiak on bass and synth and Michael Shekwoaga Ode on drums. The above might imply that it is a heavily electronic album, but the electronics are mostly used for their tonal qualities. There is some inventive post-production, especially towards the end of Pulsar, which is done really nicely and lifts this album to a whole new level, marking a step forward from their previous release, which was perhaps more straightforwardly ‘jazz’ in its approach.

The album explodes open with Malibu, a furiously energetic composition driven by a simple repeated bass riff. This simple structure allows the whole band to really open out, especially Evans and Ode, whose powerful drumming appears to maintain its energy from the start to the end of the record. The second and third tracks, Pulsar and Hank’s, are characterised by similar riffs, again driven by Jozwiak’s pulsing bass. Throughout the record, it is Jozwiak’s playing that keeps everything grounded whilst the other musicians soar over the top. Evans is of course a true trumpet virtuoso, and he shows this off in impressive fashion on Pulsar. Like Malibu, Pulsar ends by moving into a hip-hip drum break accompanied by a detuned vibraphone riff, over which Evans continues to soar.

The third track, Hank’s, although still characterised by the same repeated bass lines, moves in a new direction. It has more harmonic space than the two preceding numbers, and a brighter energy. Evans is on pocket trumpet on this number, reaching even higher than previously, and he finds himself trading with Ross’s impressive vibraphone playing. Of the whole album, this track is perhaps the most conventional in structure and content, a somewhat typical contemporary jazz tune, although again the final minute transitions into a deep groove to conclude things.

My Sorrow is Luminous is a welcome respite on the record. This track, a cover of a song by the Russian folk-punk singer Yanka Dyagileva, is tender and subtle, yet without losing any of the energy of the first three tracks. Evans improvisation on this track is mind-blowing in its virtuosity, and Ode goes absolutely wild alongside him. The second half of the track is more spacious, although Ode continues to attack his drumset with an impressive force. I quite enjoyed the energy Ode brings to the record, but I can see that some people may find his approach a little on the heavy side – I note that he has now been replaced by Tyshawn Sorey, so it will be interesting to see how he affects the sound of the band.

The final track, Images, is the most symphonic of the set. It includes Alice Teyssier on various flutes to provide some rich harmony, and doesn’t feature any improvisations. It brings things to land in a way that is well needed after the relentless pace of the previous tracks, and rounds this short album off nicely.

All of the tracks are relatively short and fast-paced, which gives the album a good sense of direction; it certainly never feels like it’s dragging things out for too long. Each track follows a near identical structure, starting with a driving riff, moving into abstract, high energy solos, and finishing with a dance-style breakdown at the end, proving the maxim: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it! The straightforward structure keeps things moving nicely, providing plenty of variety even during these short tracks. The use of bass and drums manages to successfully combine contemporary jazz with experimental hip-hop, providing an exciting space for Ross and Evans to work from, and pulsating with infectious energy without falling into cliché. Definitely worth your time.

Available from Bandcamp:

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Ravenna Escaleira - Vagabondage

By Hrayr Attarian

Portuguese multi-instrumentalist Ravenna Escaleira is also a poet and visual artist. All these aspects of her creativity are evident in her debut, Vagabondage, which draws inspiration from her urban wanderings. On it, she performs on electric bass, saxophones, and piano. The four improvised tracks that comprise the record are provocative and lyrical, ranging from the impressionistic to the abstract.

On the multifaceted “Girl Crazy”, Escaleria lays down a dense, resonant backdrop with her bass. These refrains ebb and flow in a dynamic pattern, forming a sonic landscape that shifts in mood and timbre. Over this rhythmic framework, her soprano saxophone tells a complex, captivating tale. Like an epic poem, the interwoven melodies convey a range of motifs. From an eastern-inspired, mystically shrouded ones to others replete with raw, throbbing wails, and from Zen-like serenity to riotous fury.

“Fortress” that follows is a solo bass piece. Here, Escaleira uses simmering lines to build an expectant ambiance and paint an image of alternating vibrant and somber hues. It is simultaneously mesmerizing and stimulating. Meanwhile, on the relatively brief “Naked”, her crystalline, saxophone phrases shimmer like clear shards of glass. They are sharp, poignant, and memorable as they echo within silent pauses.

The recording closes with the cinematic “Fallen Angels”. Escaleira showcases her prowess on the piano that matches the superb command of her other instruments. The mellifluous, haunting musical tapestry she weaves is replete with percussive chords and a wistfully poetic sensibility. It can easily be the score of an intelligent and moving arthouse film.

This imaginative and brilliant album perfectly demonstrates Escaleira’s multifaceted artistry. Beyond the mastery of three different instruments, Esacaleira has imbued this work with a maturity that belies her age. Hence, Vagabondage is an auspicious start to a promising career. It also makes for a rewarding listening experience.

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Jason Stein, Marilyn Crispell, Damon Smith, Adam Shead – Live at the Hungry Brain (Trost, 2025)

By Dan Sorrells

Famished minds no longer sated by spi-raling horn, one of last year's standout releases, can now feast upon Live at the Hungry Brain. Recorded the night before renowned pianist Marilyn Crispell entered the studio with the Midwest force of bass clarinetist Jason Stein, bassist Damon Smith, and drummer Adam Shead, Live at the Hungry Brain features the third of three concerts the quartet played in June 2023.

If antecedents help orient one to this music (more on that anon), Crispell’s presence—along with Smith’s place in a bass lineage that passes through Mark Dresser—makes it tempting to call up Anthony Braxton’s storied Forces in Motion quartet. This isn't really that. In terms of sheer brow-sweat and preternatural interaction, the music onLive at the Hungry Brainis more allied with Crispell's incursions into the Evan Parker/Barry Guy/Paul Lytton trio. Here, as there, she's a shining light settled into the very heart of an established trio's sound, backlighting its dense tangles from within, casting different shadows. But such comparisons are at best a makeshift compass. They'll get you pointed in a direction, but reveal little about what you'll find upon setting out.

"A Borderless Event" begins with Smith and Shead in an agile coalition, Smith deftly springing between arco and pizzicato. Shead's rapid patter can be reminiscent of those clattery Europeans like Lytton, but his assertive feeling of pulse often positions him as a more marked rhythmic goad. As Crispell and Stein enter, the group traffics in a dizzying array of ideas before winnowing into Stein's increasingly fretful solo, pierced by chiming piano chords. Crispell's chords soon fray, rapidly spilling notes, the pressure mounting until the rhythmic elements have superheated and Stein's dark looping calligraphy has transformed into glowing, Twombly-red coils. Even at its most unfettered, Stein's eloquence with the bass clarinet is remarkable. Spanning the breadth of its range, he rafts the complex timbre of his instrument over the piano's melodic swells and into the rich undercurrents of the bass and drums. On the shorter second piece, "Bone Eaten Up by Breathing," he finds a strong rapport with Smith as they trade lines through cascading piano and cymbals, Stein eventually stepping back to send the rhythm section along with Crispell's hypnotic arpeggios, beautiful and intense.

Music of this intensity, being played at this level, is possible not only because the approach provides a platform for spontaneity and virtuosity, but because it is a conduit for instruction. Here's where forebears return. It's hard to talk about music like Live at the Hungry Brainwithout them. Describing the music in the manner I just attempted falls short, but the players themselves are a reference—a living history—a genealogy of past selves setting expectations that they presently rework. Smith has made no secret of his belief in the importance of playing with "elders," and his formidable technique and instinct have been honed over decades of apprenticeship with experienced improvisers of every stripe—players exactly like Crispell (or Roscoe Mitchell, who has also joined the trio in performance). Likewise, Crispell has recently spoken of her deep love of playing with younger musicians who seek her collaboration; the conduit directs flow in both directions.

So, the resulting music is astonishing, slippery. It's novel, but not free of influence. It is a crucible. This influence extends beyond music and into engagements with abstract visual artists, poets, even practices of body and mind like those Milford Graves conveyed to his student Stein. Rarely do these things directly initiate the music. But, acknowledged—added later as song titles, liner notes, album art—they sound their own sort of resonance, expressing accord or juxtaposition that's beyond (or even before) fumbling attempts to speak of them. Like the visceral Cy Twombly paintings that grace the covers of the quartet's records, this music also lays bare the physical work that it essentially is. It's abstract not because it is inscrutable but because it remains largely ineffable, constituted wholly of but never adequately described by the gestures of its makers. Our fascination lies in this mysterious something emergent in the work, prone to dissolve when we focus our attention too keenly on the parts: just a mark on a canvas, the strike of a tom, a bow dragged across string. "Tear a mystery to tatters," Barthelme said, "and you have tatters, not mystery." Our hungry brains devour the likes of Live at the Hungry Brain, our ears drink in this vital music, the vitalizing talent of these musicians. But our mouths, agape, can't quite find the right words.

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Heddy Boubaker (1963 - 2026)

Heddy Boubaker. Photo: wikipedia

By David Cristol

Improviser Heddy Boubaker passed away suddenly on January 19, from the same issue (aortic dissection) that had forced him to stop playing the saxophone in 2010 and artistically reinvent himself on electric bass and analog synthesizer. Boubaker was an unofficial prime mover in the Toulouse area, not only as a player in the many bands he took part in (let’s mention The End, Wet and Èch) but also as an organizer, notably via his monthly and often revelatory house concerts (at his family home dubbed « La Maison Peinte » aka The Painted House) during a period of ten years starting in 2004. Born in Marseille in 1963, with roots in Tunisia, Boubaker moved to Paris where he seriously began studying jazz and playing in various bands and genres before settling in Toulouse, where decisive encounters with saxophonists Marc Démereau and Michel Doneda led him to free improvisation. La Maison Peinte has welcomed Michel Doneda, Daunik Lazro, Nuch Werchowska, Gino Robair, Baloni [Joachim Badenhorst, Frantz Loriot, Pascal Niggenkemper], Jean-Luc Cappozzo, Anne Choquet, Henry Herteman, Laurent Avizou, Jack Wright, Hervé Pérez, Birgit Ulher and many others, and created the best possible atmosphere for audiences to listen... among the visual creations of Heddy’s wife Zehavite, covering every inch of the house. The Boubakers also launched the Un Rêve Nu label, whose collectible records (each cover is unique) combine improvised music with graphic design. As a musician, Heddy played and/or toured with Tony Marsh, Guillaume Viltard, Jean-Luc Guionnet, Eddie Prévost, Pascal Battus, Lê Quan Ninh, Mazen Kerbaj, Steve Beresford, Eugene Chadbourne, Miguel Garcia, Fabien Duscombs…

A deep thinker who put the freedom of sounds before that of the musician, in 2012 Heddy also founded the 50-strong improvised music ensemble F.I.L. (Fabrique d’Improvisation Libre) with pianist Christine Wodrascka, an ensemble supported by the music department of Toulouse university which provided a large rehearsal space and grand pianos, and which included old improvising hands Dominique Regef and Jean-Yves Evrard as well as young practitioners of the music.

Close friend and trumpeter Sébastien Cirotteau, states :

« His insatiable appetite, boundless energy, determination and joy in establishing connections made Heddy an indispensable pillar of the music community in Toulouse and far beyond. »

Heddy is survived by his life partner Zéhavite, three children (Tommy, Milan & Ella) and grandchildren. An online fundraising has been set up to help them deal financially with the situation: https://www.onparticipe.fr/c/IdXNoZna

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Laura Ann Singh – Mean Reds (OOYH, 2025)

By Nick Ostrum

Since launching in 2018, Out of Your Head records has quickly emerged as a cornerstone label of the next wave of free jazzers, especially those circulating around New York. Mean Reds features a few of the label’s mainstays (and founders), Scott Clark on drums and Adam Hopkins on bass, as well as saxophonist John Lilley and trumpeter Bob Miller. More prominent in this session is the quintet’s leader and vocalist, Laura Ann Singh. A vocalist of many styles, she shone brightly on Clark’s 2023 Dawn & Dusk , which was one of her first recorded forays into this the freer musics. Mean Reds is her first headliner.

The first phrases of the opener, River, are a repeated four-note drift on trumpet, and light splatters of string and percussion. Then, Singh matches the now drafty trumpet lines with her proposition, “Maybe our love is a river.” From there, the song – and really the album – unfold into a series of imagist mediations and poetic propositions that link the human condition, nature, technology, and a range of other concerns both pressing and playful. Her lyrical style and delivery veers between the heyday jazz divas and a slightly less gruff Chrissie Hynde. Comparisons with Hannah Marks’ overlooked gem from 2023 Outsider, Outlier, also on OOYH, are also in order in those moments when Singh’s group taps its inner aggression and outrage and spill over into wails, declamations, and other noise.

Take one of the standouts, Monster. It is scorcher, which drags the listener through a storm as Singh repeats the question “Is this the American dream?,” a phrase which morphs in the second verse into “This is my American scream.” This is as much punk rock and raucous Björk as it is jazz. Toward the end, the song clarifies itself as an indictment of our current age of obsessive (and seemingly inescapable) petromodernity, as Singh asserts “The highway is a monster.” Here, of course, the highway is metaphor as well object, doubling as a warning about the suicidal direction the world seems to be veering. The backbeat is an insistent drum and bass staccato pulse that seems to repeat endlessly with just minor embellishments as the band breaks out into full fanfare around Singh’s proclamations.

Monster is just one among the variety Mean Reds presents. For the few punk bangers (Monster, She Said, the playful bedroom indie track Counting), there are smoky ballads that, even when at their most direct, are just distorted enough to sound subversive. As Strange as It Is is a fine example. It embraces Ornette’s harmolodics, if not the system itself then at least the feeling that comes through so powerfully in pieces such as What Reason Could I Give. In that, it soars. One other important note is the band. These guys can tear, but they rarely do. Instead, this album showcases their ability to play an incredible backing band. Never is there tension between musicians elbowing for space or filling the air with too much sound. They are stand-out in those moments when they do break out into bop runs and blares. But, in a sense, they stand out most by holding to the background and laying the solid but unassuming basis on which Singh can realize her vision. And what a colorful (or maybe just many perplexing and divergent shades of red?) and engaging vision it is.

Mean Reds is available as vinyl and download via Bandcamp:

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Zeena Parkins - Lament for the Maker (Relative Pitch Records, 2025)

 By Brian Earley

 

Presence requires intention, wakefulness, and awareness. Listeners give their attention over to music because they love this directed effort, but with serious music, presence is also requisite. Zeena Parkins’s most recent album for Relative Pitch Records, Lament for the Maker , is serious music, and this is no weakness. Parkins leans here into works that are as much about sound as they seem to be about loss.

Sound, physically speaking, involves pitch and frequency. Frequency. That is, it is always arriving, but also always leaving. Always vibrating away until the human body, no matter its intention, its wakefulness, can no longer detect it. It becomes its own lament as it passes out of the range of hearing and journeys from a world of perceived time into an infinite space with no time bound restrictions imposed upon it by human control.

If one did not know the circumstances involved around the making of this recording, one could still perceive the tension here between control and inevitable abandon. Zeena Parkins is the maker of the sound, as she plays her unconventional acoustic harp with electrified extended techniques using metal slides and bass bowing, but the works are a constant duet of harp and noise, in addition to the duet of composer and performer. Indeed, Parkins is listed as composer of only one of the pieces on this collection while three of her colleagues from Mills College, Laetitia Sonami, John Bischoff, and James Fei, “graciously agreed” (Parkins’s words) to honor the closing of the school by submitting compositions for harp and electronics. The institution, famed for its advocacy for gender and trans rights as much as for its innovations in arts and academics, closed in 2022 and, following economic decisions in higher education across the nation, was subsumed by a larger, more profitable entity. The closing of its music department ultimately resulted in Parkins departing, ending her tenure as Darius Milhaud Chair there, her close connections to students, teachers, and friends, and to a way of life she had established for thirteen years.

A representative experience for me here is my listening to “pluck,” composed by Bischoff and listed as the second work on the album. The work opens with traditional acoustic harp plucking. Open mid-range resonances alternate with high pitch tight plucking of strings. Time lingers as much as it attacks and abruptly ends. Shortly after the one minute mark, however, legato electronics rise and fall like a celeste being drained of fluid. After the three minute mark time itself is challenged in lengthy organ-like holdings of single and double tones. And, by eight minutes into the work, the piece feels entirely improvised by Parkins. Except she, of course, is using a score composed by another, and now must navigate a world where maintaining control is as essential as relinquishing that control. There appears to be no time signature, but even if there were, it would only offer a semblance of order placed over a human negotiation of time passing. After seventeen minutes the work ends with plucking, dampened, so that no pitch arises from Parkins’s strings at all. Sound finally has only frequency and disappears out of human perception into silence.

Lament is an intentional word choice. On December 5 of 2025, Parkins wrote on Instagram that her “sad farewell to Mills College is being released today. A heart wrenching one for me.” The album is more acceptance than resignation, however, as it ends with “berlin bedroom: littlefield feb.10.2024,” a time-stamped work that began in 2014 and is “ongoing.” Parkins struggles with “sonic limits…that are impossible to bend by design.” The work starts at 0:01 and concludes at 12:42, and its perceived sound does end along with the sound of human beings applauding, never to be assembled exactly the same again, but the frequencies generated here move outward forever into circumstances beyond even our dreams. 

 

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