Lawrence Casserley at 85

Photos by Charlie Watkins

Lawrence Casserley has been a pioneer of electronics in improvised music, particularly through his development of the Signal Processing Instrument. To celebrate Lawrence’s 85^th year, Charlie Watkins sat down with him to discuss a few records which have been particularly important to him and the events he has planned for 2026.

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By Charlie Watkins

I meet Lawrence at his home studio in Oxford. The already small room is made even smaller by the books, CDs and audio equipment lining each wall. There are three computers, one of which is the Signal Processing Instrument (SPI), another displaying a book manuscript Lawrence is working on, and the third with various audio files open. It’s a fitting setting: even in his 85 ^th year, Lawrence is still full of ideas and as hardworking as ever. Before we’re even sitting down, he is already explaining to me how the SPI works, and I rush to start recording before I miss anything.

The first album Lawrence and I discuss is Solar Wind (1997), which he recorded at STEIM whilst developing the SPI. He explains to me how the record came about: ‘I had three weeks there [at STEIM]. Evan [Parker] was there, not all the time, but most of the time. And Barry Guy joined us for the last part.

‘After a couple of days of just getting going, Evan said “Whenever we play, we switch the recorder on,” and so we had all this stuff, lots of stuff. Sometimes I'd say to him, “Look, I've got to do some programming, I've got an idea,” so he'd go off for a walk, or practice, or do the crossword, and then I’d say “Come on, we're ready.” That's how the CD came about.’

Lawrence tells me how those early sessions at STEIM were a pivotal moment in the development of the SPI. ‘A lot of that original structure of the instrument is still here. I've tweaked various stuff and added bits, added things and taken things away, but the basic structure and the way it works was established at that time. The current version has been pretty much stable for about 10 years, so I finally stopped developing it and started learning to play it! Michel Waisvisz [STEIM’s artistic director] said to me “There comes a stage when you've got to stop changing stuff and just learn how to play it really well.”’

Solar Windwasn’t Lawrence’s first foray into live electronics. He dropped out of Columbia University to study music instead, and his first composition with live processing was in 1969, during his postgraduate studies at the Royal College of Music. ‘My composition teacher at the time was Herbert Howells, who was quite a conservative. But he was really interested in what I was doing and he was very, very smart and very good. At the end of the year, I came into the lesson and he said, “I've had a letter about this electronic music course [with Tristram Cary]. I've put you down for it, of course.” That kind of encouragement was really good.’

Even in those early years, as Lawrence started to utilise electronic processing in his compositions, he had a clear vision for how he wanted to be using electronics in live performance. ‘I got this idea: I wanted an electronic instrument that was like playing the cello or something, “my instrument” in that sense. It just took 20 years for the technology to catch up! When I finally got there, I was working with people like Barry Guy, who had such a physical way of playing, and I said, “I want to play electronics like that.”’

Although there was already an improvisatory element in his early compositions, Solar Wind was really Lawrence’s entrance onto the improvised music scene. Thirty years on, I ask Lawrence how he feels about the album now. ‘It was a remarkable thing in its way. I'm certainly not ashamed of it. The whole thing gelled, and Evan was so supportive of the whole thing; that was sort of the catalyst that made it happen. It’s a very special CD. I rate it as one of the best things I've done.’

Lawrence consistently describes his duo work as what he is most proud of. ‘You can get much more involved in the integration between the player and the processing. When I work with more people, it becomes a bit more diffused; this sort of really tight, close integration comes best in duos, and some of the trios.’ That certainly comes across on his album with Philipp Wachsmann, Garuda (2016). ‘I think Garuda is quite possibly the best thing I've ever done. First of all, Phil is so amazing. The range of his playing and the range of his experience is very, very large. And his thinking is very deep, too. He always produces such fantastic material for me to work with. Again, we worked over several days, recording different kinds of things in different ways. I play some percussion as well and sometimes the percussion is processed with his sounds, and other times it's just the violin. It was a very rich sound palette that we had and we worked a long time on it and I think we formed a very special sort of integration. He inspires great things.’

Listening to Garuda, it’s clear that both musicians are having a lot of fun. I ask Lawrence how he understands the role of ‘play’ in music that can often be quite serious. ‘I don't think serious and playful are very far apart. Like a lot of things, they’re different sides of the same coin, and all these things are part of life. If you can't have fun, then part of your life is missing. And it's the same with the music, if you can't have fun, part of the music is missing.

‘Music is an expression of life. And I think for me it almost is life. It's a lot of other things as well, but music is kind of the core of everything.’

Finally, we discuss a more recent recording, Corps et Biens: Hommage à Robert Desnos (2025) with the vocalist Jean-Michel Van Schouwburg. Lawrence has worked extensively with vocals over the years, including his own; I ask whether there is a reason he keeps choosing to work with vocals. ‘The voice is very interesting because there's so much you can do with it. It's so flexible. The work I did with [performance poet] Bob Cobbing back in the 70s and 80s was a very crucial part of my life because it was Bob who really taught me to be a performer. I didn't have a way to be a performer – I wanted to be, but I didn't have an instrument that served the purpose yet. Bob pointed me towards using what there was to perform with.’

One of Lawrence’s early works was a piece called 15 Shakespeare kaku, which was a setting of poems Bob had written for the Globe Playhouse Trust. ‘He took the letters of Shakespeare's name, cut them up in different ways and stuck them all in different shapes, and he would use these as source material for vocalization. I recorded several different versions and used small amounts of pitch change and a bit of ring modulation and things like that.’

That early example of using electronics to process the voice feels a million miles away from what Lawrence and Jean-Michel are doing together now, a relationship which has developed over many years. ‘When you work with somebody for a long time there are things that seem almost permanent, but then there are other things that are always renewing themselves. If you stop renewing yourselves it becomes difficult to do any more, or you find that people move in different directions. I think that's more or less what happened with me and Evan. We've gone in different directions: it was fantastic what we were able to do while we were working together, it just came to a stage where it sort of didn't happen anymore, which is the way of things.’

In some ways, Lawrence has had a very consistent approach since he started playing improvised music, which he recognises as he looks back on his early recordings. ‘Just after we got back from STEIM, Barry [Guy] booked Gateway Studios at Kingston, and we recorded Dividuality , which is really excellent, and it kind of got lost. A little while ago, somebody said to me, ‘This is a really great CD,’ and I'd more or less forgotten about it. And actually, a lot of the things I was doing then, I can see the seeds of what went into [Evan Parker’s] Electro-Acoustic Ensemble. That's really where it begins.’ But at the same time, the need to ‘renew himself’ is clear; Lawrence has never stopped learning. ‘At the beginning I was a bit nervous about how it all worked, whether it was going to work, and how I could do it. It's very different to the way I function now. I'm much freer in how I do stuff. It’s partly self-confidence, feeling more in control, understanding the instrument so much better.’

At the end of our chat, Lawrence tells me about his plans for his 85 ^th year. He’s starting with three concerts at St Alban's church hall in east Oxford. ‘It’s a very nice space: quite intimate but big enough. The first one is on Tuesday 7 April with Emil Karlsen, the Norwegian percussionist. We had a CD out on Bead last year, Aspects of Memory . The second one will be on Tuesday 21 April with Hannah Marshall. We've long wanted to do some duo work; I worked with her previously in a trio with Alison Blunt. The third one is a very nice quartet with Dominic Lash, Massimo Magee and Phil Marks: we’ve just released an album called Livingry from a concert we did in early October at the Hundred Years Gallery. That will be on Tuesday 28 April. And Hannah and I are working towards putting something out, so they're very current things.

‘For my actual birthday, tenth of August, I'm planning to have the wonderful trio, Valid Tractor , with Pat Thomas and Dominic Lash, and Paul Lytton is coming over from Belgium to do a duo. Hopefully there will also be a quartet at the end of that.

‘Later that month, I'm hoping to get the Spanish composer and performer, Llorenç Barber, with his bell tree. Martin Mayes is coming over from Italy, a French horn and alphorn player. He will be a special guest with HyperYak , a quartet I have played with for 25 years. I want to have a concert with Jean-Michel Van Schouwburg and Viv Corringham. We were planning to do a trio in 2020, which got overtaken by COVID. Two wonderful vocalists but a really interesting contrast. For that concert I'm hoping we'll have Harri Sjöström as well. He very rarely comes to England, he hasn't been here for around 10 years, so it would be lovely to have him. The other one I want to do is some of my early electronic work contrasted with improvised electronics, with Martin Hackett.’

It’s an impressive number of concerts to organise, especially at 85. But Lawrence seems excited to be sharing his music. ‘Most of these concerts will be on a pay what you can basis. People should be encouraged to come and enjoy the music and there's no pressure to pay lots of money. I want people to enjoy the music.’

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For more information on Lawrence Casserley’s 85 ^th birthday celebrations, keep an eye on Lawrence’s social media or on the Oxford Improvisers website: oxfordimprovisers.com

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Christian Pouget – Maelström for improvisers (Films UtôpïK, 2025)

By Paul Acquaro

A maelstrom ... "a powerful whirlpool in the sea or a river" or "a situation or state of confused movement or violent turmoil" ... pick your definition or take both as you dive into the pool of riches that French film director Christian Pouget mixes together in a rich amalgam of sound and image. Featuring the music of 22 musicians from America to Europe to Asia, Pouget lets their own words and brilliant selections of solo playing in choice environments explore and explain improvisation. 

 

About two-thirds through the film French saxophonist Sakina Abdou explains that when she realized that she had a connection to free jazz - and wanted to be a part of it - she had to ask what it meant it to do so, now. It's different today than it was when it began, she says, a 'whole different utopia.' No, we do not get a an answer, rather we cut to seeing and hearing Abdou playing freely, but tonally, along a stream with a overpass behind her. Her tones echo out of the tunnel that the stream is passing through. Perhaps its symbolic, perhaps it is just where she is playing.

 

Maelstrom moves like this. From the start we are thrown into a qualitative research study with only an implied research question. It begins, for example, with jazz maverick, French saxophonist Daunik Lazro talking about survival as an artist in an unforgiving world, to questions of perception and being perceived by Abdou, to discussions about the variety of sound from Japanese pianist Sakoto Fujji, who posits that her country features the extremes of music - and then goes on to perform a solo piece that is spacious and abstract as well as dense and urgent.

 

Setting plays a sumptuous role. We see Lazro playing in a sort of junkyard, surrounded by the husks of discarded camping trailers, invoking the spirit and sounds of Albert Ayler on his saxophone. Later, Roberto Ottaviano blows his soprano sax while walking along a wall of sun bleached stones, like the horn is providing orientation through echolocation. Then there is Adbou playing near an urban stream, providing a juxtaposition between nature flow and mankind's structures. The most playful, and perhaps climax of imagery, is trumpeter Susana Santos Silva improvising amongst and with the macabre mechanical creatures making musical chaos in sculptor Daniel Depoutot's Strasbourg workshop. It is all rather visually striking and metaphorically compelling.

 

Throughout the film, the artists providing snippets of observation or insights gained over their years of working in the world of improvised music. The themes connect subtly - there is no title screen with the theme of say "COMMUNICATION" in bold block lettering to ground the conversation, rather, the words touch loosely on themes that shift over the course of the film, and in the end, leave an impression of the values and commonality of uncommon music making.

 

The film is one to relish both for it's imagery and the solo pieces that each musician performs - they are both exemplars of their individual styles and rich in emotion. 

 

Watch the trailer here. 

Full list of artists featured in the film:
Satoko Fujii, Gerry Hemingway, Isabelle Duthoit, Evan Parker, Susana Santos Silva, Daniel Depoutot, Kahil El Zabar, Daunik Lazro, Joe Morris, Mat Maneri, Joëlle Léandre, Christiane Bopp, Betty Hovette, Sonia Sanchez, Agusti Fernandez, Clara Levy, Roberto Ottaviano, Emanuele Parrini, Silvia Bolognesi, Sakina Abdou, Raymond Boni, and Benat Achiary.

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Terrie Ex - Flaps (Terp, 2026)

By Eyal Hareuveni

Dutch guitarist Terrie Ex (aka Terrie Hessels), one of the founders of The Ex, has no formal schooling as a guitarist, no killer riffs or licks, and no technique that is identified with him. He still plays the same, almost fifty-year-old Guild electric guitar, his first guitar, which he bought before ever touching a guitar, just because Peter Hammill has the same one (and Hammill was not impressed by the gesture). Now heavily battered, stained with blood and rust, after being hit by sticks, screwdrivers, knives, and other objects, or pushed into the ground, pillars, and amplifiers (and also towards too eager photographers), it has only five strings. Ex’ Ethiopian friends call this guitar Lucy, after the skeleton of a 3.2 million-year-old hominin woman discovered in Ethiopia.

Ex played solo, free improvised concerts since the early 1990s, and performed (and recorded) many duo performances with fellow Dutch improvisers like Han Bennink and Ab Baars or with Ken Vandermark, Paal Nilssen-Love, Kaja Draksler, and Thurston Moore. But only now, the 71-year-old Ex finally releases his debut solo album, Flaps. Flaps is the name Ex’ daughter, singer-songwriter Lena Hessels, has called him since she was an infant. This family affair features cover artwork by Ex’ partner. Emma Fischer, and the album was released by Ex’ label, Terp.

The 48-minute Flaps distills the essence of Ex. It rarely corresponds with the avant-Ethio punk grooves of The Ex, and has very few rhythmic attacks, but it is unpredictable, equipped with sharp instincts, free and wild imagination, and tons of experience (only The Ex played 2060 concerts since its foundation in 1979). Ex plays the electric guitar as if it were an elastic, experimental material that he can shape and mould its poetic, noisy, and thorny sounds. It captures Ex’ stream-of-consciousness beautifully, exploring fleeting moods and eccentric sounds and soundscapes without attachment to any of these, suggesting an insightful glimpse into the abstract film in Ex’ head. No one plays like Ex, totally possessed by the art of the moment. At times, Flaps sounds as if his guitar has a mind and will of its own. Only very few can offer such an arresting, risk-taking, spontaneous, and free sonic journey.

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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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