By Troy Dostert
Calling the Borderlands Trio a “piano trio” doesn’t quite do justice to the marvels that are found on the group’s scintillating recordings. Pianist Kris Davis, bassist Stephan Crump and drummer Eric McPherson are masters of their respective instruments, and they gel with the kind of cohesion one expects from longstanding acquaintanceship, but their music is also completely improvised—and therein lies the particular magic of Rewilder. Like the trio’s preceding releases, Asteroidea (Intakt, 2017) and Wandersphere (Intakt, 2021), this one revels in the process of spontaneous creation. And just as those previous efforts were not only adventurously unpredictable but also both accessible and inviting, Rewilder is one of the most engaging albums of free improvisation one is likely to encounter.
In case one has any doubts about the music being completely unpremeditated (and after listening to the album, they are likely), Crump explains in the liner notes that the trio convened for the one-day recording session, “played for an hour or two, then had lunch, and then came back. We played for exactly how long the record is.” Now such a description could probably apply to lots of freely improvised recordings; but what separates this one from run-of-the-mill free encounters is just how well-organized it is. There is a structure to these pieces, even if that structure is arrived at collectively and extemporaneously. Surely the players’ long-standing familiarity plays a role here, as do their superb listening instincts. But no matter the secret formula, one cannot deny the remarkable alchemy that takes place on these eight capacious tracks.
Crump and McPherson provide the pivotal axis on which the trio turns, given that so much of the group’s modus operandi involves finding catchy grooves to explore. After the opening moments of “Cyclops Mountain,” where all three musicians are pursuing their individual muses, McPherson and Crump gradually coalesce to form a tentative pulse, with Davis joining them as a nascent foundation is put in place. Davis’s initial meanderings become increasingly focused and expansive, while McPherson and Crump cement the music’s identity with a rhythm that is identifiable, yet just slightly off-center. Other tracks build from Crump ostinatos or arco passages, McPherson’s intuitions allowing him to stay in close rapport while Davis expertly finds moments for her own interjections.
One of the reasons the Borderlands Trio doesn’t fit the “piano trio” caricature is because there really is no lead instrument here; Davis allows her partners to make their contributions on equal terms, and as a result each track develops its own unique momentum, with McPherson or Crump as free to take the lead as Davis. So while the pianist finds the repeated phrase that serves as the melodic thread to the gently bouncing “Axolotyl,” on “Monotreme” Crump and McPherson establish a sinuous groove that Davis then navigates, finding her own pathways as the bassist and drummer deftly alter both tempo and rhythm throughout the track’s eighteen-plus minutes. And while most of the music on Rewilder stays within an understated, gentle temperament, Davis’s animated flights on “Monotreme” are invigorating, fueled by the energy created by her colleagues. Then we have her skilled use of prepared piano on “Tree Shrimp,” where she sounds as though two separate pianists are improvising over McPherson’s reggae-inspired rhythm. Davis’s creativity and virtuosity are as evident here as always, yet without a trace of ostentatiousness.
It's a lot of music to take in, to be sure—over 100 minutes, all told—yet there is an immersive quality to the trio’s explorations. On the back half of the album, Davis’s fondness for minimalist gestures adds to the trancelike aspect of the 23-minute “Lost Species,” once again featuring her prepared piano surging over the tenacious rhythms of Crump and McPherson, while “Echidna” offers a riveting study in texture, Crump’s darting arco sparring with Davis before moving into a walking bass line that somehow ushers the track into a gentle swinging section, only to conclude with Davis at her most extroverted, with tempestuous flurries and shards of notes riding over Crump’s dense arco and McPherson’s subdued support. “Commerce Sunrise” closes the album with the trio at its most accessible, finding a comfortable groove (or two) to sustain Davis’s lambent lyricism. It’s more than enough to satisfy us until the next superlative outing from this formidable group of improvisers.
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