"Are you the one who sings those melodies I sometimes hear in spring, the ones that make me dream?”
With a fragile, heavenly tone, a voice I will never forget, he calmly replied:
"I don't know. Sometimes I have hallucinations where I sing winged melodies I don’t recognise, not knowing if they come from me or ever existed. I only remember the day I parted from those who taught me to fly. They told me I carried within me the most perfect song, and that one day it would let itself be sung freely by me.”
-Luis Lopes, from the liner notes
I sat down to listen to this album with no expectations beyond the fact that every NoBusiness album I have ever listened to has been of the highest quality. I didn’t know any of the musicians, but I was attracted to the album because of the bass clarinet played by Ziv Taubenfeld. I have been hooked on the peculiar, deep sound of the bass clarinet since the first time I heard Eric Dolphy playing it. I hit PLAY and almost immediately had one of those flashes where you realize you’re listening to something genuinely new and unique and wonderful. I think everyone who listens to free jazz is looking for such moments.
The album begins with the track 'Oluyemi' where cellist Helena Espvall plucks a simple repetitive pattern over which Taubenfeld improvises. I think of the title track of Julius Hemphill’s Dogon A.D., where Abdul Wadud’s cello plays a similar role. But this band has something different in mind. Espvall is restless in her playing and she varies further and further from her starting point. I realize she’s also steadily increasing the speed and intensity of her plucking. Taubenfeld matches her and João Sousa follows suit on drums. The song briefly feels like a contest. The track reaches an intense crescendo and then I realize that Espvall has begun bowing as Taubenfeld falls away and Sousa just plays a light, simple accompaniment. Her bowing is plaintive, as if she’s missing her accompanists or sad over the state of the world.
On 'In the Ether, In a Light', Sousa’s drumming propels the track forward. He’s especially good on this track. Espvall switches between bowing and plucking and always seems to be giving the right reply to what Taubenfeld is playing, as if they’re having the most intense conversation. I can’t get over how good Espvall is on this whole album.
'Come Back Evaporated Chess' is another standout. Sousa plays some fairly straight-ahead up-tempo percussion with Espvall bowing rhythmically but introducing slight variations in response to Sousa. Taubenfeld peeks in and then lurches in with some Dolphyesque lines. He’s excellent on this track and the next 'They Are Fragments of the Sun'. Over the course of the album, he demonstrates the full range of sound of the instrument.
'Of the Angel In You, Oh Tigers and Lions' starts off as a lovely, peaceful ballad, with Espvall’s cello sounding mournful and Sousa gently responding, with Taubenfeld’s bass clarinet floating above them both. The intensity of the piece increases as each musician digs into what the others are playing. It’s another tremendous track.
I could go on, but instead I’ll say a bit about the musicians. I discovered that I did in fact know Ziv Taubenfeld as he plays on a very good album I own, Albert Beger’s Cosmic Waves. Currently based in Lisbon, he has a great many projects on the go. He’s in a band called Kuhn Fu, dedicated to the work of Christian Kuhn (bonus points for the name). He leads a large band called Full Sun which is a collection of great musicians, including Michael Moore, Luis Vicente, Olie Bryce and Marta Warelis. He’s collaborated with Han Bennink, Ab Baars, Hamid Drake, Ada Rave, and many more.
Helena Espvall has been involved in a wide number of projects. Her bandcamp page has many solo pieces I’m slowly wading through and very much enjoying. She has produced a duo album with Masaki Batoh of the Japanese experimental rock group, Ghost. She has also been involved in, to quote Wikipedia, “Philadelphia's flourishing psychedelic and weird-folk circles”.
João Sousa is part of the exciting Portuguese free improvisation scene. Especially check out his duo with saxophonist José Lencastre, Free Speech and several albums with Pedro Branco.
This is an album to treasure, and another great release from NoBusiness.
By Paul Acquaro
See part one of the reviews here.
By Paul Acquaro
Saxophonist Jon Irabagon already has two new albums ready for release for 2026 and so what better excuse is needed to look back at the last four he put out under his name? None at all ... except that it should have happened sooner!
Have you heard Brique? A spicy melange of free jazz / punk / free style poetry, fresh, exciting and yet somehow comforting. Here they are - and they are vocalist Bianca Iannuzzi, pianist Eve Risser, bassist Luc Ex and drummer Francesco Pastacaldi - at Jazzwerkstatt Peitz last summer, irreverent and, at times, heart-poundingly loud:
A few years ago, Brique closed out the Serious Series festival in Berlin. Read here - just scroll to the end: https://www.freejazzblog.org/2023/12/serious-series-2023.html.
By Dan Sorrells
Laura Altman's Holy Trinity takes its name from the Anglican church in Western Australia where it was recorded. It doesn't seem directly concerned with that classic trio of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, but as I read the label's notes about the release, they offered up another apt trinity in the context of Altman's solo improvisational practice: instrument, environment, and intervention. I'd like to slightly complicate that last one. Let's say: int(erv)ention, the hazy crossroads of intention and intervention, that wavering boundary between what you put into the world and how the world meets it.
I first encountered Altman's clarinet along with accordionist Monica Brooks and piano-deconstructionist Magda Mayas in the brilliant improvising trio Great Waitress. Altman's solo work shares many of the same concerns: multiple sound sources converging in new timbres, emergent phenomena from the layering of overtones, the use of gaps and silences to emphasize or regather. Rather than responding to bandmates, on Holy Trinity Altman positions her clarinet, voice, and small objects like tin cans in dialogue with more contingent forces—some environmental, some of her own devising—fragile and volatile feedback from a small amplifier, tape interjections from handheld cassette players, reflections and distortions of reverberant space, birdsong in the churchyard.
The starting and ending tracks "Opening Out" and "Turning In" do well to describe the dual aspect of the music, a double movement of eruption and irruption, Altman unfolding her sounds into the receptive room and enfolding those it gives back. She works in pure, swelling tones, often alternating between registers to create slowly pulsing cycles of low and high, pushing into altissimo notes that seem on the cusp of existence and at the edge of control, as frail as the feedback she duets with. Tracks like "A Call to Water" and "The Song I Came to Sing" trouble the boundaries between clarinet or voice or speaker, delicate ecosystems of sound that cloud agency and confound temporal order. This causal erosion seems to float things off into an incorporeal realm of sound-in-itself, and yet there's a forceful grounding element that is always present, a strong feeling of embodiment and place, Altman's inward breaths the caesurae punctuating the overlapping resonances—that palpable, vibrating air within Holy Trinity.
In a remarkably harmonious passage, Barry Blesser once wrote of a clarinet note sounding in a cathedral which could be thought of as "a million bells, each with its own pitch, and each with a slightly different decay rate," the clarinet exciting those reverberating frequencies such that "you are actually hearing the bells of space." As I'm listening to Holy Trinity, I'm hearing Altman's patient exploration, offering and accepting in return, ringing variously the sacred bells of space. This may not be devotional music, but it still feels like an exaltation.
From its earthquake opening, Nethering announces itself as a bold new statement from avant-garde saxophonist Colin Stetson, joined here by drummer Greg Fox and bassist Trevor Dunn. Stetson, who is probably best known for his solo saxophone work, shows himself to be in excellent form in an improvised ensemble setting, here showing an uninhibited aggression that I haven’t heard from him before. Fox, who established himself working with black metal band Liturgy, brings a similarly hard-edged approach to the record, whilst Trevor Dunn’s explosive bass playing adds a furious intensity and momentum to the music. Dunn and Fox worked together previously on Sally Gates’ 2023 record Deliriant Modifier, and they have clearly established a strong connection that makes them a terrifying pairing.
Fans of Stetson will quickly hear similarities to his ‘post-everything’ jazz metal quartet Ex Eye, who conjure up a similarly affronting sound (and of which Fox is also a member). But SFD go further: less constrained by compositions, more free to open up and explore the sonic potential of the grouping. This record brings in more elements of drone and noise, and feels generally more orientated towards ‘sound’. There is also an extraordinary range in the music: from the unabated to the subtle. The second track, Reclaimer, starts softly, but without ever losing the intensity that characterises the whole recording, and Molemoss maintains a fragile but ominous quiet. The musicians are always working with rather than against each other, allowing them to rise and fall as one, and this gives a clear sense of structure to the album.
It sounds to me like the first three tracks were recorded as one improvisation, then the next two tracks, then the final two. The shape of the music as a whole is cohesive, contrasting and always with a clear sense of direction, and it is testament to the impressive production that the track changes weave so seamlessly together. The overall production is very impressive: even at its most explosive, nothing is lost of any of the three instruments, but the detail doesn’t compromise the rawness of the playing either.
Stetson’s characteristic vocalisations, which are amplified by a close contact microphone around his throat, add a ghostly fourth voice to the mix. Unlike on some of his solo records, where these vocalisations have a more angelic quality, here it is more of a demonic roar. But it is his abrasive saxophone sound that generates the most intensity, moving the recording towards noise. Moleman, the fourth track, is absolutely massive: Dunn and Stetson weave together complex lines and harmonics, both demonstrating their virtuosity, whilst Fox relentlessly propels the music forwards. It demonstrates the close relationship between metal and improvised music: both genres require absolutely mastery of the instruments, with a similar emphasis on raw sound; in many ways, this record moves closer to the former. This crossover sound of will surely attract a wider audience than improvised music normally does, by its blending of genres and approaches.
Netheringis loud, abrasive and boundary-pushing. The album notes indicate this is the first release in a series of collaborations led by Stetson, which can only be a good thing, and a comment Stetson made at the album launch party on Bandcamp suggests that this trio has more recordings in the works. The album comes in at just after forty minutes, but its succinctness is a virtue, especially with more to look forward to in the future. Highly recommended.
Netheringis available now on Bandcamp:
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| Piotr Turkiewicz |
In November 2025, the 22nd edition of Jazztopad took place in WrocÅ‚aw, Poland, with David Murray, Wadada Leo Smith, Midori Takada, Marta Sánchez, Camila Nebbia, Kahil El’Zabar, Jakob Bro, Immanuel Wilkins, Joanna Duda, Xhosa Cole, Jeremy Rose, Luke Stewart, Charles Lloyd and others performing. Artists from a varied geographical provenance and exhibiting a wide stylistic scope performed. A strong Polish presence was felt, both with local string ensembles and at improvised sessions. We asked programmer Piotr Turkiewicz about how it began, from a small festival to one of the leading music celebrations in Europe, with a focus on unusual settings, unprecedented encounters, premieres, commissions, partnerships with faraway organizations (Canada, Australia) and doing a New York edition.
David Cristol: how did it all begin, when did you join the festival and become its
artistic director ?
Piotr Turkiewicz:
I started collaborating with what was then called Wroclaw Philharmonic (now
National Forum of Music) in 2006. There is another festival here, a
classical music festival, Wratislavia Cantans, which is one of the biggest
classical festivals focused on the human voice. I was asked to help out the
artistic director of the festival, who was British conductor Paul McCreesh.
That's how I got associated with this institution that was running this
classical music festival and was also planning to build the Narodowe Forum
Muzyki – a new concert hall. I started traveling a lot. The old venue had a
festival with the same name, Jazztopad, which ran for three years. It was
honestly quite cheesy, jazzy symphonic music, swinging double basses, this
kind of vibe. After the third edition I was asked by then director Andrzej
Kosendiak if I wanted to take over and develop it. That's how it started.
That was the third edition, and last year was the twenty-second.
PT: I've been doing this for nineteen years, which doesn't feel like it because it's been changing so much. The core idea is still there, which means pushing the program as far as I can. I want to get rid of the « jazz » in the name at some point because it took a long time for people to come and trust the festival choices rather than the « jazz » brand. We started commissioning new music, which is a big part of the festival. Since there was an institution behind it, which had resident ensembles, we started commissioning works for them, symphony orchestras, chamber, cello quartet, string quartet, choir, chamber orchestra. Jazztopad is part of it because it's under the same umbrella. We started using those ensembles as part of the festival. I believe that's how the festival started to grow because there were a lot of artists who were challenged and interested in doing something different.
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Wadada Leo Smith and Jakob Bro. Photo Joanna Stoga |
PT: Sure. I used to play cello, and played at my first
edition. The connection with strings and especially with the cello is always
there, somewhere. But it just started growing like crazy at some point,
which was a beautiful thing because when we started, I was designing the
poster, going around the city with flyers and so on. We invited Kenny
Wheeler, whose music I remembered from childhood. He was one of the first
artists I recognized as a kid. I got in touch with him and said,
« we have a festival, it's super small and we have no money. Would you
like to come? »
And he came. I was about trying to talk to artists, not go through agencies.
Even though it got bigger, we still have a direct connection with artists,
it's really about the relationship with folks. The Jakob Bro piece with
Wadada that you heard would not have happened otherwise.
It was an unusual gig for Wadada as part of his declared last tour in
Europe.
PT: It's a combination between trying to fit into what they do and also take them out of it for a couple of days. We often fly people over just for what they do here. One of the breakthroughs was, we did the last concert by Sonny Rollins. We started building a relationship with Charles Lloyd, which ended up being a lot of commissions, and his Wild Man Dance album being a live recording at the festival. And we had a beautiful collaboration with Wayne Shorter, he wrote music for wind ensemble for the festival. So it started to grow even though we had a terrible concert hall, an old communist building of about 400 seats, with a terrible sound and smell. People didn’t like to go there, we couldn’t sell tickets. That's why we started house concerts. We needed to go out of this hall to people's houses and establish a connection with the audience. We needed to find another way of presenting the music. It's been thirteen, maybe fourteen years that house concerts are happening. Every year it's different places, except for two houses where we come back to. Two amazing houses and people who've been with us almost from the beginning. Fans of the festival like to celebrate, they need that kind of space, they need to be there. That's like a feast, a wedding. You go in there and you're like, « Jesus, incredible ! » You don’t know who’s gonna play until you’re attending. It’s eight different houses over two weekends, with three or more sets in each.
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| Camila Nebbia Presencia. Photo Slawek Przerwa |
How long has the Narodowe Forum Muzyki been in operation ?
PT:
Ten years. It was quite a challenge, moving from a small hall to this place.
We suddenly needed to fill 1400 seats. Actually, the whole venue is 1,800
seats. Suddenly four times more people.
I thought the reversed stage felt and sounded better than the opening
and closing evenings in the traditionally-shaped room.
PT: I like it much more, it’s my favorite setup. It's more
intimate and closer. I always address this division between stage and
audience, this artificial separation. Most artists want to be close to the
audience. Some don't care, but some do. I'm trying to work with those who
care. So we found this setup, and I thought this is beautiful, better for
the music that we present. Of course, there are bigger names in the program
too, but even David Murray doesn't usually sell out venues like this. This
year, last year, three years ago, everything was sold out. And when you look
at the how the tickets are selling, the most challenging and unknown acts
are selling first. Which is incredible.
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| David Murray Quartet. Photo Slawek Przerwa |
PT: It took a long time. Between the house concerts and what happens at the club at night, it helped push things further. We push further every year, a little bit. The first couple of years were hard because people were complaining : « oh, this is not jazz. » but I was also lucky because people who ran this new venue and the previous venue, they just trusted me. I mean, it's pretty rare. I have the same situation in Berlin where I program a venue, and it's the same thing. It's also a dream place, even in terms of the design of the hall, it's ideal because it's round, beautiful – it’s called Pierre Boulez Saal.
Until around 2007, there was nobody from Poland as part of the Europe Jazz network nor at Jazzahead. It's hard to imagine now, but finally Poland has a stand. Before that, there was nothing. Just to give you perspective, when I started traveling because of the festival, nobody knew anything about the Polish jazz scene. They knew Tomasz Stanko, that's it. That was the only name known outside of Poland. When Charles Lloyd decided to write new music for us and released it, that was an important moment because he was changing from ECM to Blue Note. That was a huge push for us because the record was everywhere. While in Japan at that time, I would go to a record store and see big posters of Charles Lloyd/Jazztopad and I was like, « wow ! » It was a breakthrough, people started paying attention, asking Charles Lloyd « What's this festival? Why did you write music for them? ». We slowly got more recognition.
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| Ghosted. Photo Joanna Stoga |
PT:
We record every concert. We have our archive. Things will come out. Kris
Davis is releasing something soon that we recorded here, as well as Nicole
Mitchell, James Brandon Lewis….
Jakob Bro’s « Fox on Hill » composition was only happening here.
PT: Only here. I don't remember the last time I got so
emotional about music. Maybe it was me, having a lot of things on my mind.
The composition was something else and unlike any other concert by Wadada.
This situation of him as an interpreter is very rare. I think it was
interesting for him to go through that process. He's one of those musicians,
every sound he plays, it goes straight to your heart. It's such an honor
just to spend time with him. He's a generous, beautiful human being. In 2014
we commissioned him to write for a symphony orchestra, that was the first
time we worked together. A huge piece, dedicated to Solidarność, the strike
movement in Poland in the eighties, with visuals.
It must have spoken to him because he’s concerned about democracy.
PT: Big time. It's a beautiful thing to be able to work
with him, but also, I think because of what we've been doing almost twenty
years now, it feels natural. With Jakob Bro, with Charles Lloyd. They've
been here before, they know us, they trust us. It's much easier to do
something different from that point on. That always was the aim of the
festival, to work closely with artists. There are a lot of festivals who are
just booking gigs. The bands are on tour, they’ll stop here, play the album,
that's it. It's very easy. I can book those in two days if I want to,
emailing three agencies, you know, Saudades and so on. Boring.
Commissions take a lot of energy but it's a very rewarding
process. It's also taking a lot of risks. You don't know what's gonna
happen. Likewise when you put musicians together for the first time. For
example, the duo with Marta Sanchez and Luke Stewart
[from the David Murray Quartet]
was a first time. I'm always sure something beautiful is gonna happen, but
who knows ? There's a lot about the festival that’s unpredictable, that's
what makes it exciting for our audience. From my point of view, it's an
extra value to have that because it's not something you can see everywhere.
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| Joanna Duda The Great Reset. Photo Joanna Stoga |
PT: During the 2013 edition in WrocÅ‚aw, producer Jason Olaine from Jazz at Lincoln Center visited us. We had a Turkish focus then with a lot of Turkish free jazz musicians, pushing hard, and he loved the festival vibe. He felt good and said « listen, why don't you bring some Polish artists to Dizzy's? » That's how it started. At first, it was a one-day thing. We did it again and it was two days, and then we did it again. I've been coming to New York since 2003 on a regular basis and started connecting with people. We were at The Jazz Standard, Cornelia Street Cafe - those places don't exist anymore. Also National Sawdust, and house concerts as well. But we never wanted to do a government-sponsored Polish festival. From the very beginning when he invited us, I said « I would love to do it, but we need to collaborate. You need to invest money into what we do. Otherwise, it's not gonna happen. I'm not gonna ask the government to pay for everything because then five people will show up and it doesn't make sense, it's gonna be one of those artificial presentations of whatever country's scene because they have money. » The biggest challenge was to find the right partners who are excited about what we do and want to collaborate and pay for it. The Polish Cultural Institute in New York has been supportive. We got a sort of « you can't miss it » label from the New York Times, which was an important moment. The buzz started. We have partners I love working with and are very supportive, but it's more difficult than ever because of the political situation. It’s a kind of a suicidal endeavour when you think about it : « let's bring unknown Polish artist to New York where there's a hundred other concerts with amazing lineups ! » [laughs] This is the city where you have the most things going on at the same time, super competitive. So it's been a journey. Some things didn’t work out with people I thought I could rely upon. Some venues didn't put any work into it. We had concerts where five people showed up, but then, that happens every day in New York. There was a Polish journalist who came to the festival. He hadn't been to New York before, came a few days earlier and started going to gigs. When I met him, he said, « it's incredible, every day is like a festival here. But the clubs are empty. Some places I went to, there was, like, five people. » I replied, « If you didn't have this experience, you would think that we are failing, but that's New York. » Then he saw concerts where we had 300 people and was surprisedall those people came to see Polish artists.In June of 2025, every concert was packed. Even Tuesday evening at Dizzy's, the worst day of the week. They told me, « man, on Tuesdays we really struggle ». It was sold out, two sets. So it takes time, when you're pushing and trying to communicate and encourage people to pay attention. And maybe the audience appreciates that it's a different thing. What’s new in New York? You have everything there every day. Actually not true because we started inviting artists who'd never played there. From Poland, Japan, Australia. We invited Michiyo Yagi, who only was in New York twenty years ago. It would be a dream to present the project with Wadada Leo Smith and Jakob Bro in New York, with the cellos. We need to find people who are interested, willing to put up the money and so on. Every time I have a setback I'm trying to think, I can make this happen. Every year is like a new start.
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| Immanuel Wilkins & Lutoslawski String Quartet. Photo Slawek Przerw |
Are you doing it again in '26?
PT: Hopefully, yes. It depends on different things : if I
can do what I want to do, if our partners will finance it on the level that
we need to. We have the dates and are almost ready. But I'm still like, if I
stop It doesn't matter, nobody will notice. I mean, it's New York. 2025
was very successful though. Last two, three years I finally felt this made
sense. It's a lot of work and when you think about doing this festival here
in Wrocław and programming events in Berlin and now also in Banff you kind
of lose momentum, but at the same time you get a lot of energy when things
happen.
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| Concert in Living Room, Piotr Turkiewicz (right). Photo Karol Adam Sokolowski |
PT: What's most important is community. We have a community ; I don't know the better word for it right now. Our audience and musicians who come back, that's the strength of the festival. We are supported by people who believe in what we do. It gives us strength to keep on going and pushing. I'm grateful because it's not a given. Community is the artists, audience, reporters, owners of the private apartments, everybody. I've always wanted to create a space for people to feel that we're in it together, that it's not just buying a ticket, seeing a show and going back home. It has to be some kind of experience. Even if it's a bad experience. After Jakob Bro’s Fox on Hill concert, there were extreme ways people felt about it. Some were crying during the piece. Some were just mesmerized. And some were like, « What the hell was it? Wadada could have played more, Jakob didn't play at all. » The piece is what it is, it’s not about the number of notes played. The worst concerts are those where people go out, and they're like, whatever - nothing happened . I love it when they dislike it and I love it when they love it. This is how it should be. Because that means something relevant happened.
The interaction between the two musicians is truly great. Their dialogue—spanning just over half an hour on the opening track—unfolds as an intimate conversation, often moving in a slow parlando, at times lyrical and at others abrasive. Each artist continuously introduces new ideas that are immediately absorbed and reshaped by the other, creating a seamless and endlessly fascinating exchange. There is deep respect and deep listening.
Despite their formidable technical abilities, virtuosity is never the point; the focus remains firmly on the music itself and the act of co-creation, which ultimately carries far more weight than any display of instrumental prowess. Rocco can unleash crystal clear, rapid-fire runs along the guitar neck, just as Colonna summons multiphonics and timbres so unexpected that one might question whether they truly originate from a bass clarinet (or momentarily from a flute or a fog horn?).
For instrumentalists, there is an abundance to learn here. For everyone else, the reward lies in experiencing the music’s freedom, authenticity, and quiet preciousness. The result is rich and precise, meticulously shaped, and as delicate and intricate as lace, with a musical eclecticism that integrates jazz, blues, classical and folk music and leading us much further into ground-breaking sonic places, yet without ever alienating the listener.
2025 was the year of Sophie Agnel. Whilst recovering from a brain tumour – which also meant starting again with the piano – Agnel managed to release two first-class solo albums (SONG (Relative Pitch) and Learning (OTORUKO)) as well as a brilliant duo with John Butcher (Rare (Les Disques VICTO)), all three of which featured on the Free Jazz Collective’s choices for their albums of 2025 . Just five days after Learning was released in early October, she put out this recording with drummer Mark Sanders: ANTLIA. If I’d heard it sooner, this album would certainly have made it into my top 10.
Antlia is the name of a small and relatively modern constellation that represents an air pump (Antlia is the Greek word for ‘pump’). Its three visible stars are a yellow dwarf, a yellow-white dwarf, and an orange dwarf named Macondo, which are used as the track titles. The choice of a modern constellation for the album title made me consider the act of ‘establishing’ a constellation: by coordinating disparate objects in space, it could be seen as a symbol for what occurs in the act of improvisation. Similarly, the symbol of the air pump, chosen by the French astronomer Nicolas-Louis de Lacaille to represent the Enlightenment, might indicate a parallel between invention and improvisation, such that what is inanimate is brought to life. I can’t help but wonder whether this dark, mysterious music calls into question the rationalism of the Enlightenment in favour of a more ‘magical’ way of thinking (and so perhaps it is also worth noting that ‘Macondo’ is the name of the mythical town in Gabriel GarcÃa Márquez’s magical realist novel One Hundred Years of Solitude).The album is brilliantly self-assured; at no point is there any sense of timidity or hesitation. This is particularly impressive considering how the music is constantly in motion, never quite settling in one place. But whilst the music is shifting, there is no denying its cohesion as a whole, characterised both by fragility (which makes the cover image of a dandelion a fitting choice) and a sense of the enigmatic. There are points when Agnel hints towards something more forceful, only for Sanders to refuse her invitation and keep the improvisation in a liminal space (such as towards the end of track three, ‘Orange’). At other times their twisting and turning creates moments of resistance that nonetheless feel completely intuitive (especially on the first track, ‘Antlia’). This dynamic of invitation and refusal generates a momentum not characterised by forward movement as such, but something more like sideways movement – always seeking new directions rather than simply ploughing onwards. It’s immensely satisfying to listen to this interaction take place.
Agnel and Sanders are perfectly matched, particularly because of Agnel’s percussive approach to the piano, bringing all the kinds of sounds you would expect from somebody so influenced by Cage’s prepared piano music. But they’re not afraid to let the silence speak either: at the start of ‘Yellow’, the sounds are suspended in empty space, bell-like in quality. At other points, such as on ‘Yellow-White’, there is a hint of something more metred and continuous. Fittingly, these improvisations all seem to be about letting things happen ‘in space’, drawing them out of the ‘cosmic hum’ of the universe. Throughout the album, the connection between Agnel and Sanders is unbreakable, and this only enhances the feeling that they are establishing their own musical constellation.
It is clear throughout that Agnel and Sanders are kindred musical spirits, and what they create together is the best kind of improvised music: creative, confident and immensely compelling. I have been playing this album for weeks now, and continue to be intrigued by what Agnel and Sanders offer here. I hope we hear much more of this duo in the near future.
ANTLIA is available from Shrike Records on their Bandcamp page:
Free = liberated from social, historical, psychological and musical constraints
Jazz = improvised music for heart, body and mind