Moers Festival 2025 (Part 2)

Photos by Author

By Paul Acquaro

 

This is the second part of the coverage of the 2025 Moers Festival. The first can be read here. 

 

Sunday, June 1

 

Sunday morning continued with some bizarre weather. Light, quick drying long pants that could become shorts, a t-shirt, a long-sleeved over-shirt, Gore-Tex lined sneakers, plus umbrella and rain jacket seemed like the minimal gear required to go outside and enjoy some music. First stop, the smaller "Traktor" stage set on a corner the festival's market square. 

 

Mark Holub, Charlotte Keefe, Ashley John Long, Meinrad Kneer, and Evi Fillipou

Already lining the stage was a hard core group of similarly equipped attendees waiting patiently under the piercing sun, stormy clouds, sudden downpours and only slightly annoying drizzle for "Freysinn #6" to start. Clutching coffees and shielding precious smartphones, the early-birds scrunched in as close as they could to be under the stage's cover as drummer Mark Holub, trumpeter Charlotte Keefe, bassists Meinrad Kneer and Ashley John Long, and vibraphonist Evi Fillipou worked out the kinks in the sound with the technical crew. Once everything was in order, they began their set and the sun suddenly appeared as the two swirling basses solidified around Fillipou's uptempo figure and Keefe's lithe blips. Both energetic and exploratory at times, the collection of British, German and American musicians provided a lovely wake up concert under unsure skies.

 

A quick shuffle into town was up next. Through the park, past the sloping 'Rodelberg' field that previous years' attendees were lamenting was not being used this year, past the leafy mature trees and many water fowl, past the old castle, into a cafe for a to-go coffee, and finally to a small hair salon in the old city, to hear a solo set from Lao Dan. 

 

Outside the salon, in the rain, on the otherwise normally quiet Sunday morning street, a small crowd had gathered around a frog playing saxophone. At least it may have been a frog. Two characters, a princess carrying a long listening tube and her frog, who was now playing saxophone, had been popping up at and between different locations interacting with festival goers and introducing events.

 

Lao Dan

Eventually, the action moved inside the crammed salon as Lao Dan began his solo set with a full-on saxophone pummeling. Moving about the small space that the audience had cleared in the middle of the salon, Lao Dan segued from the initial eruption to a lovely melody on a flute that he pulled from his back pocket. Circular breathing techniques underscored the flowing meditative melody. Then, switching back to the sax, the clacking of the keys provided a percussive effect to a softly sung melody, whose words - if they were in fact words - were lost on me. The short set ended with a final power blast of saxophone. 

 

Back now at the main festival site, the next moers sessions! was about to begin. Again, these were sets curated and officiated by saxophonist Jan Klare that were occurring throughout the festival - and as I had learned over the past two days, they were proving to be one of the festival's highlights.

 

The first of the three sets featured saxophonist Pete Grogan and Tim von Malotki, guitarist Jasper Stadhouders, bassist Liran Donin, and drummer Konrad Matheus, who launched into an updated 70s electric Miles Davis form of free-jazz, a collective whirlpool of sound underpinned by electronic beats and tight pulsating drumming. The saxophones buzzed and the energy built over dark rumbling bass and lightly abrasive guitar work. There were echoes of a dub as the group dug into some rock beats and swirling dark magic tones. 

 

Then, back to town. Skipping out on what were likely excellent follow up sets, it was back through the park to the old town hall building across the cobblestone street from the medieval castle. Willi Kellers, Bart Maris, and Hans Peter Hiby were playing alongside narrator Joachim Henn, who was performing the works of cabaret and satire writer Hanns Dieter Hüsch. The writer, born in the Netherlands, lived as a young man in Moers, and the city is celebrating his centennial this year.

Joachim Henn, Hans Peter Hiby, Willi Kellers and Bart Maris

The music was fantastic. As mentioned previously, Maris, artist-in-residence, has been involved more with the education programs and organizing than performing on the main stages. Thus, this was a nice opportunity to hear him with the scorching Hiby and multi-faceted Kellers, as the three interjected short improvisations in between Henn's artful narrations. While the words in German were difficult to grasp for me, the many native speakers in the audience seemed rather delighted, and the music erupted spontaneously each time, controlled but electrifying. 

 

Led Bib

The afternoon segued into the evening at the open air stage where the UK's Led Bib introduced their current sound - a quick stroll through their back catalog seemed to suggest an evolving approach over their over 20 years of playing together. The quartet of drummer Mark Holub, saxophonists Chris Williams and Pete Grogan as well as bassist Liran Donin approached the set with patience and gravity, the songs were slow, based on complex rock beats with tinges of North African modalities. The baritone saxes' effects created a lush, reverb drenched atmosphere and an early electric bass solo featured an earthy, gut stringed gimbri-like tone. The song meandered a bit before finally building to a climatic jazz-rock end, which was generally how the set proceeded. The encore piece revealed a different side of the band, short and punchy, the energetic tune left the audience buzzing.

 

At this point, I was seeking a time-out in order to let the all the sounds swirling in my head settle down. A cup of coffee seemed like a fine way to begin this moment of mindfulness, which of course meant that there were a bunch of other events happening between the festival grounds and town that proceeded without me. Such are the sacrifices we must make. 

 

Haydon Chisholm's Kinetic Chain

The next two concerts in the main hall featured an enticing set of high profile musicians. First was New Zealander (but Europe based) saxophonist Haydon Chisholm's crack band featuring pianist Achim Kaufman, bassist Petter Eldh and drummer Jonas Burgwinkel, all of who are often associated with more experimental music, but in Kinetic Chain they help Chisholm deliver a meditative modern jazz journey. The performance was a thoughtfully balanced set of compositions that featured restraint and mood over velocity, but let the players all bring something unique to the stage. 

 

Angelica Sanchez

The second concert was a solo set by American pianist Angelica Sanchez who offered a rich presentation of thorny passages and light melodic interludes. From rather a ruminative, un-jazzy start to sharp, angular attacks and lush chord voicings, the set fluctuated quickly and decisively. 

 

Caspar Brötzmann on scissor lift

While the evening of music was not over, it seemed like the world might be. Outside the hall, lifted above the festival grounds, Caspar Brötzmann was flattening the landscape with a solo bass set from the scissor lift. Turned up to 11 (in Spinal Tap terms), the bassist let loose a fury of deep, gut shaking sound from above. While the music was more expressionistic than melodic, intentionally or not, phrases of the Modern Jazz Quartet's tune 'Django' seemed to be woven perfectly into the sound fabric.

  

The final act of the evening at the main hall was a percussion oriented composition from Koshiro Hino. Bringing the piece to life was Ken Furudate on electronics, Masayoshi Fujita on vibraphone, marimba, and percussion, Tsuyoshi Maeda on taiko drums and percussion and Kanna Taniguchi on vibraphone and percussion. That was indeed a lot of percussion on stage, producing whooshing drones and marching band-like cadences alike. The composition felt quite modular with sections following each other, and use of the mallet instruments in creative and traditional ways to add splashes of melody and texture.

Monday

 

Monday began with a press event and ended with a Massaker. Starting with the press, Tim Isfort, musician, composer, long time Moers resident and director of the festival since 2017, addressed a small group of reporters and writers in the ice rink. Under his leadership, the festival has developed its signature multi-discipline, post-structural thematic approach, resulting in a dense thicket of music, time sensitive discussion topics and some good-natured chaos.

 

A pressing topic in recent years has been funding, and in reaction to tightening budgets, Isfort has been exploring new ways to support the festival. This year, a new ticket pricing structure based on what they called the "Pay What You Want" solidarity principle was introduced. As I understand it, the idea is to make attending the festival more affordable and grow the audience for Moers. So, along with the children activities and stages, the open market square that offers free concerts to the public, and the many events that happen in the downtown, which are also free to attend, there are many ways for people to participate and - hopefully - pay more over time.

 

The highlight of the press conference came however when Isfort was not asked about tickets, pricing or funding but rather about the precise locating of the "Traktor Stage." The director was nonplussed and answered the question at the level of soil density and permitting.

 

Ok so now, a Massaker was promised, and we will get to it soon enough, but let us first wander past the food trucks, past the kids activities and down to the open air stage to the next moers session!

 

moers session!

It was a quiet start to the set from laptop artist Tan Shuoxin, violist Matthias Kaiser, bassist Meinrad Kneer, and a percussionist whose name I did not catch. The long, moaning bass tones, the viola's gentle plucked notes with the electric buzz of the electronics and percussion revealed a minimalist heartbeat, making ripples like water-skating insects on a still lake. The second set with pianist Simon Rummel, trumpeter Charlotte Keefe, saxophonist Hans Peter Hiby and drummer Andy Hafner was quite a contrast to the previous. Hiby played a forceful, though reserved line while Keefe concentrated on her mouthpiece before plugging it into her trumpet, while the piano provided stabbing chords along with the vigorous drumming. The horns spared with each other, finding ways to compliment and compete, while the piano set the overall tone. This was rapturous music, always ready to explore, and always steeping back just in time to keep the tension rising.

 

Another set was scheduled to start up at the "Traktor Stage," yes, the very one whose position was hotly discussed at today's press talk. The start was delayed though perhaps by the giant fly whose enervating buzz was being broadcast over the festival ground loudspeakers. The 15-foot long fly was afloat over the festival marketplace, doing its best to annoy giant puppet man. The piece, Der Kasper schlägt die Fliegen tot (Caspar kills the flies) was puppetry maximus, a tale of "a gigantic musical fight for survival" at a monstrous scale. 

 

At this point, it seems that the scheduling got a little loose, or my sense of it did at least, and the experience became a kaleidoscopic mix of sounds, foods (the kimchi + bbq burrito was a fantastic discovery), and more sounds. It seemed that Caspar Brötzmann had enjoyed the previous evenings solo flight over the festival grounds so much that he did it again, this time a full-volume thumping of the general festival goers, and an obvious surprise to those who were clasping their ears and accelerating their pace. Another fun surprise was the ska band Butterwegge, who leaned hard on peppy horn arrangements and spouted uplifting, inclusive lyrics. The band amassed an almost pogo-ing audience.

 

Vijay Iyer and Wadada Leo Smith

Eventually, all roads taken led to headliners Vijay Iyer and Wadada Leo Smith, who in the main hall were presenting their music from the ECM recording Defiant Life. Iyer sat behind a Fender Rhodes with a couple smaller electric keyboards placed on top, a grand piano flanked him. He began on the piano playing a gentle trickle of high notes with one hand and a deep bass rumble with the other. Smith cycled through some grittier tones and let out a sharp blast. Iyer pivoted to Rhodes and let some clear tones ring out. A persistent drone came from one of the small electronics as the two played slow, opened ended phrases, with sometimes a bit of hesitation. The performance very true to the recording, which itself is pensive, probing, tense and at times defiant. Smith added at the end of the riveting set, " Defiant Life is dedicated to young people, who can make the world beautiful, the world we old people messed up." If there was a set that captured the spirit of Stille best, this was it. The underlying tensions of the music were magnified by the reflective space within it, leaving the audience at once satisfied but also a bit unsettled. 

 

Caspar Brötzmann's Massaker

And finally, the Massaker. The closing set of the festival was Caspar Brötzmann's power trio. After two stints rattling the festival grounds (and presumably all within a few surrounding kilometers) from above with his bass, Brötzmann, now with guitar in hand, hit the stage of the main hall with drummer Saskia von Klitzing and bassist Eduardo Delgado Lopez. The group was loud but through the primal drones, deep plodding riffs and thrilling feedback laden solos, the song structures still poked through. A stiff night cap to help close the festival. 

 

. .. and in the end...

 

When I first encountered the term "Stille" as the theme for the festival, I wondered how could this be applied to such a multifaceted event? Now, after four days living in the "Unimoresum" (their term), it seems that the word at face value is less valuable than what it represents and when considered across the many dimensions of the festival, it becomes something other than itself. I began to think of it is as reflection, those moments when I stepped away from the music and other festivities and enjoyed the atmosphere, the chance encounters and the unusual ideas (probably as much was left out of this write-up as made it). So, this stille makes up the moments in between the actions and events. So, between the music, the political discussions, and of course all of the other activities, the real experience comes when you take a chance reflect on what it means to you. It does not, however, take make much reflection to say, hope to see you at the 55th edition!

 

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Moers Festival 2025 (Part 1)

Photos by author, unless otherwise indicated.

By Paul Acquaro 

 

(Controlled) chaos is a feature of the Moers Festival. After spending the Pentecost holiday weekend wandering, encountering, and enjoying the unpredictability, I have to say: I came to quite like it. 

 

Everywhere one looked, there was something new to see, hear and experience. The festival grounds featured food trucks and hippie clothing as well as children's stages and pop-up stages. The musical foci were dizzying: from an emphasis on Japanese and African musicians, to a delegation of two distinct sets of musicians from China, as well as a collaboration with the Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival (hcmf//), a/k/a the UK’s largest international festival of new and experimental music, as well as a range of performers from Angelica Sanchez to Wadada Leo Smith. Featured in stand-alone shows or in new configurations, the players came together on the various stages, ranging from both indoor and outdoor large stages, to smaller ones in the festival's market square, like the moveable Japanese inspired paper walled construct Club Jazz Byobu, the piano-mobile that crawled between the festival grounds and city, cafes in the city center, and even a set of scissor and boom construction lifts that raised performers 50 feet above the festival grounds. 

 

Add to this creative mayhem the festival's current motto 'Stille' ('still,' as in quiet, peaceful, tranquil, silence) and the lively party gets even more surreal. What could that possibly mean amidst the hustle and bustle of the fairgrounds? How does such a theme align with Caspar Brötzmann's bass-led aerial assault at 11 p.m. from the raised platform? Sure, it could be easily linked with the reductionist music of the Zhao Cong, Zhu Wenbo and Sun Yizhou, but what about the sonic blasts of Lao Dan or heart-stopping stomps of Marmar? One can simply cast aside a festival theme, often they are easily expendable; however, there was something to this idea, which at once seemed to be in opposition to an experimental music festival, but also carried a certain resonance, but we can come back to this later.

 

It is often tempting to write about a festival as a series of musical sets, easily discernible from each other, but when faced with the perplexity of Moers, the experience becomes something more fluid, something you need to figure out yourself. One must take out the playful looking program and chart a path as best they can and then embrace the adventure. Let's do exactly this...

Friday, Day 1

 

Arriving in Moers on Friday afternoon, the shuttle bus from the train station offered a chance encounter with the group from Shenzhen, China. Dedicated to creating and fostering a creative music scene in their city, they run Old Heaven Books, a book shop, record label and cafe, the B10 Live music space, as well as organize the OCT-LOFT and Tomorrow music festivals. Free-jazz saxophonist Lao Dan was also onboard. Having recently acquired his new solo recording To Hit a Pressure Point (Relative Pitch Records, 2025), I was looking forward to hearing him play. So, only a few minutes in the city and it already seemed like a promising start to the weekend. 

 

Actually, it took a little while to get oriented. The festival - in what I learned was in a slightly new configuration - was set up generally around a large recreation park with an event hall, an ice rink and a huge water slide and swimming pool (if it had only been a bit warmer...). The aforementioned festival grounds were essentially a market with a selection of food trucks and clothing vendors and open to all, as were several of the smaller stages. Inside the main hall were two record vendors with an ever tempting selection of wares. Off to one side of the fair grounds, the open air stage, and a 20-minute walk through the adjacent city park got one into the old city of Moers where another series of events always seemed to be happening. The choice overload was nearly paralyzing, but somehow I fought my way to a decision and made my way to the open-air stage where Spinifex was set to perform. 

 

Spinifex Maxximus

This year is the Netherlands based group's 20th anniversary. The core players are main composer and alto saxophonist Tobias Klein , along with Moers artist-in-residence and trumpeter Bart Maris , saxophonist John Dikeman, guitarist Jasper Stadhouders , bassist Goncalo Almeida and drummer Philipp Moser . For a series of concerts during this China Anniversary year, they have added violist Jessica Pavone, cellist Elisabeth Coudoux and vibraphonist Evi Filippou, resulting in their manifestation as Spinifex Maxximus.

 

The show was a perfect musical start to the festival. The big group had a correspondingly big sound, with a fire breather like Dikeman on baritone sax and the facile playing of Almeida on electric bass, that would seem to be unavoidable. They launched with a heavy riff over which a free group improv ensued. Melodies with complimenting counter harmonies developed, the lines weaving between the different players, belying a great deal of compositional work too. In a later tune, Pavone led the group with a quasi-classical melody, which then sequenced into passage with Stadhouser and Fillipou exchanging fierce lines that were as much free-jazz as Appalachian folk. Vacillating between hard landing riffs and spritely arranged horn passages, the set was a great chance to also hear Maris play, who although he was the artist-in-residence, was more involved with children programs and activities surrounding the festival than featured in concert. 

 

Jonas Gerigk and Ying Yang

After the set, there seemed to be a long break before the next concert. After wandering about the festival market place, I stumbled on the 'Traktor Stage' where a "Freysinn" set, one of 12 musician organized concerts of the festival, was happening. This one was with with bassist Jonas Gerigk and violinist Ying Yang , two young music students from Koeln. Shortly afterwards, a pianist was playing "Ueber'm Platz," which was one of the platforms that hoisted the musicians over the festival grounds.

 

Darius Held on the scissor lift. Phpt

Exciting in concept, however pianist Darius Held's minimalist solo performance was rather inaudible and the spectacle of the raised stage wore off soon enough (something to do with that the musicians having to wear a safety vest somehow detracted from the experience - I know, safety first). What I didn't realize is that while I was bumbling about the fairground, a (reportedly) excellent set was playing out under the guise of the "moers sessions!" at the larger outdoor stage, while a collection of British musicians from the Huddersfeld Festival contingent were quietly taking-over the downtown spaces, a couple of kilometers away. 

 

By the time for what I had erroneously considered the next concert, darkness had enveloped the festival and in the cozy night-time mood surrounding the open air stage. Marmar, a sound-world creator who blends traditional Kazakh folk music with modern experimental sounds, was about to go on. 

 

Marmar. Photo by Dennis Hoeren

The blast of sound from the stage was not unexpected, but it certainly did shatter the stillness. From under an eerie green glow on the stage, the surgical mask covered face of Marmar peeked out from under a hooded sweatshirt. He held an electric bass in hand and stood before an electronics bedecked table. A massive, throbbing sound emanating from the cloaked figure as he tweaked devices on the table. Feedback and deep guttural whispers shook the dirt and made ripples in the sky. It was a bit frightening, but it was also magnetic. Off to my side, I noticed Lao Dan and made a gesture to him in which I tried to express that the music was slowly unscrewing my face but I was okay with this effect. I'm not sure what he actually understood of this.

Saturday, Day 2

 

Starting today, I wasn't going to miss a thing, I wouldn't waste a beat, and so after breakfast, I began a trek into the city to see what was happening on the other side of the festival. 

 

Getting across the city park and old "Schloss Park", a landscaped garden full of beautiful mature trees and a flowing stream, took about 15 minutes or longer if one took a moment to check out the skate-park or the birds gathered along the stream banks. On the other side, past the medieval castle that once anchored the city in the 12th century, past the stately 19th century Renaissance style former town hall, and the Evangelical Church building dating from the mid 15th century, at the small nick-nack gift shop 'Villa Woelkchen' (Little Cloud Villa), Zhao Cong, from the group of musicians from Beijing , was performing a solo piece on "objects."

 

Zhao Cong

A perfect setting really. Small Christmas tree ornaments and porcelain curios lined the precisely and densely packed display shelves, while Cong was in the middle, her table set up with a mixer, a stainless steel cup with water, an array of little objects and many contact mics. This was her sound laboratory for the moment, and the small store was soon packed with curious onlookers. Cong blew up a balloon and when it popped confetti rained down. She placed an effervescent tablet in the cup and amplified the fizzing. She used many objects that clicked and clacked, moving gracefully through the constricted room, activating sounds from everything. How someone did not knock over a delicate tchotchke may have been the most impressive part of all. 

 

Jan Klare and Charlotte Keefe 

Next, the duo of British trumpeter Charlotte Keefe and German saxophonist Jan Klare (who was also in charge of the 'moers sessions') were scheduled to play at a cafe around the corner. Not feeling ready for a beer, I settled for a decent milchkaffee (or was it a cappuccino? my notes are lacking here) and waited. I was quickly learning that for these small in-town sets, they fill up quickly, so you needed to be early and patient. This is also where I overheard Keefe and Klare meeting for the first time, mere minutes before they were set to perform as a duo. 

 

The set was fantastic. There was not even a hint of hesitation between them, rather, they launched right into it as the sun beamed through the window behind them. Keefe utilized the full range of possibilities from her horns, playing clear, lively melodic strands and breathy washes of tone alike. Supporting, as well as instigating, Klare reacted in kind. Melodic statements mixed with spluttering tones, distorted notes blended with hissing sounds. Keefe's quick switch to the flugelhorn, whose rounder tone blended even more nicely with the alto sax as Klare launched into a more syncopated, jaunty lines. Both seemed to be physically moved by the sounds, bobbing, dipping and swaying to the interplay. 

 

 

Elisabeth Coudoux, Willi Kellers Gonçalo Almeida, and Thilo Schoelpen

After a walk back through the park to the main festival grounds, it was almost time for the 'moers sessions' at 2 p.m. The first set was the combination of cellist Elisabeth Coudoux, bassist Gonçalo Almeida, pianist Thilo Schoelpen , and drummer Willi Kellers.Their set turned out to be a welcome blast of good ol' free jazz. The group started with the flames on high and kept turning it up until the heat began escaping not only from the instruments in hand but in a series of excited screams from Coudoux. Next, saxophonist Hayden Chisholm, violist Jessica Pavone and pianist Darius Heid took an opposite approach. Minimalist and delicate, the set was a test of tension and restraint, the birds in the park were louder. Then, after a sudden downpour, the third set began with saxophonist John Dikeman, electronicist Achim Zepezauer, pianist Rieko Okuda and percussionist Jonas Evenstad. It was a free-jazz sandwich, the piano was ablaze with sharp tonal splats and jabs, the drums setting the energy level on high. After dialing it back for a moment, a gentle rumble of the piano led to a saxophone fueled melee of unbridled intensity.

 

bBb bBb: Lao Dan and the duo of Li Daiguo

I cannot say I recall what happened after this set, I must have wandered around, bumped into people and said hello, perhaps I ate some pizza ... that is usually correct ... and then it was time for bBb bBb (the duo of Li Daiguo & Lao Dan) on the outdoor stage. The duo began with a set that seemed to blend tradition and modern techniques. Li Daigou, an American born, China based, multi-instrumentalist approaches the lute-like pipa guitaristically. Lao Dan, playing a wooden flute, seemed to bring forth traditional melodies but, again, in a more contemporary manner. The two settled into a groove that encouraged some heads bopping in the audience. After cycling through the flutes, a naked mouth piece, and an alto clarinet-like instrument with a long, flexible neck, Lao Dan turned to his saxophone. Li Daigou had also pivoted from the pipa to the piano, creating a different atmosphere by interjecting beat-boxing. Then, like the sporadic cloudbursts that had been happening all day, the two let out a deluge of sound. The minimal piano lines and the fiery shredding of the saxophone began to peel back the layers of reality. This was something gobsmackingly new.

 

After the enthusiastic applause, it was just a few short minutes before Willi Keller's The Circle,with drummer Kellers, saxophonist Hans-Peter Hiby, pianist Rieko Okuda and bassist Meinrad Kneer began. The newish quartet seems to have gelled over the past year or so, performing in the current line up first at Jazzwerkstatt Peitz 2024 when Keller received the first Brandenburg Jazz Prize. 

 

Willi Keller's The Circle

The group began with the vibrating sounds of Hiby and Kneer. Keller and Okuda entered shortly thereafter, slowly building humming intensity. The piano was an agitating force, while Keller and Kneer laid a strong foundation. Then, Hiby began pushing fiercely, waves of intensity followed, the players retracting, regathering, and attacking again and again. Okuda physically bounced against the keyboard, before she began striking the piano from the inside. Hiby played tightly-wound lines, and the entire band pulled in, rigid, taut, thrumming and humming away. If there was a gauge, the needle would have been hovering between sizzling orange and boiling red, but they never quite went over the edge.

 

Somewhat in parallel, in the main hall, there was a moderated talk happening called "Kunst, Kritik oder Antisemitismus?" Over the past two years, there has been much criticism and protest over the war in Israel. The siege of the Gaza strip following the October 7th, 2022 Hamas attack has resulted in profound loss of life and profoundly impacted politics, including how artists have used their sets at festivals. I only heard the tail-end of the talk but it is impressive that Moers dedicated a series of talks to address these issues that have been ripping through society.

 

 

Chronograffiti. Photo by Zalesskaya 

The set that followed was a percussion based piece by Koshiro Hino called Chronograffiti. Through an evolution of drumming, first a set of players from the renowned Taiko group Kodo playing at an increasing tempo, adorned by flashing lights, to then a single player on a large drum in the front of the stage area, and finally to a piece with again multiple drummers. The crowd was enthusiastic, underscoring that the diversity of the music ensured something unconventional for everyone. 

 

Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters

The day was feeling already quite full, but there was still much to come. The next event being the highly anticipated Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters. The group, which came together in 2023, is a timely update to free-jazz, freely mixing elements of electronics, hip-hop, rock and free improvisation. Under a blanket of fog, the groups two electronicists, Gabriele Mitelli and Mariam Rezaei, flanked by saxophonist Mette Rasmussen and drummer Lukas Koenig, ignited with passionate fury -- they began at full throttle and took it from there. A potent moment arose when their volume level reduced to an electronic throb, and while Rasmussen started a long drone, Mitelli spat out sharp licks on his pocket trumpet, which he seemed to favor for long stretches of the set. Soon, Koenig settled into a sludgy groove and the band reached the first of several energetic peaks.  

 

 

Lao Dan

Stumbling out of the event hall into the cooler evening air on the market square, it was just in time to see Lao Dan being hoisted into the air on the scissor lift. Sounds, first of a sampled guitar and electronic drones, followed by his flute, permeated the skies around the festival, shaking the entire area. Half way through this unusual set, Lao Dan began to focus on electronics entirely, using a stick like object to control the sound. Watching his dramatic expressive gestures with the saber, he did seem a bit like a Jedi from afar.

 

After all of that, a nightcap did seem in order. Back in the large hall, random expectation, a collective of Chinese and German players* amassed on stage to offer a gentle, minimalist lullaby. 

 

That did the trick, good night! See you tomorrow for more Moers action.

random expectation. Photo by Dennis Hoeren

*random expectation: Sun Yizhou (feedback), Zhu Wenbo (cl, tapes), Zhao Cong (objects), Tan Shuoxin (electr), Simon Rummel (microtonal harmonium), Thilo Schoelpen (p, feedback), Matthias Kaiser (prepared and amplified violin)

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Mark Solborg - TUNGEMÅL: Confluencia (Ilk Music, 2025)

By Eyal Hareuveni

 Confluencia is the fifth installation in the Danish-Argentinian Mark Solborg’s TUNGEMÅL (idiom or tongue in Danish) ongoing project, focusing on how the words, our idioms, and mother tongues are deeply connected with our view of ourselves and the way we resonate with the surrounding world, or the role of the electric guitar as a speaking voice in contemporary chamber musical contexts. The album features Portuguese, Stockholm-based trumpeter Susana Santos Silva (who has played in TUNGEMÅL III, Ilk Music, 2021), Danish pianist Simon Toldam (who has played on TUNGEMÅL II and Babel, Ilk Music, 2020 and 2023), Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach, who plays on vibrating membranes, and Solborg on electric guitar and electronics. The album was recorded at the Village Recording in Copenhagen in April 2024.

Confluencia distills Solborg’s TUNGEMÅL studies to the most essential and poetic outcome. The album addresses the confluence of knowledge and resources, of individual voices, and a conversation that becomes increasingly important if we are to solve the challenges of our society and species. Solborg seeks to investigate, illustrate, and raise awareness of the continuous cross-cultural inter-human debate, towards a more varied, complex, and compassionate perspective, by cherishing diversity and multiple insights.

 Confluencia was inspired by the drawings of English plant anatomist Nehemiah Grew (1641-1712), which are used in the album’s artwork, and illustrate the inner structures and confluences of liquid and nourishment in roots and branches. These drawings suggest the phenomenon of mycorrhiza to the mind, the symbiosis between trees and fungi, providing both with enhanced living conditions, fertility, and stamina.

The album attempts to offer such a natural, organically developed inner workings of the Confluencia quartet. Solborg composed eight loose and minimalist pieces, and the last bonus piece (which is not on the vinyl version) was free improvised by the quartet; all employ the idiosyncratic, poetic voices of Solborg, Santos Silva, Toldam, and Zach in an intuitive, free-associative, and deep listening dynamics. These intimate pieces unfold slowly with their own mysterious, inner logic, resonant timbres, enigmatic frictions, and odd grooves, imagining their own sonic parallel mycorrhiza. Solborg succeeded in creating a vibrant, balanced, and tangible confluence of beautiful voices, interacting in the most natural, humble, and almost austere manner, and teaching us how to listen carefully in a world burdened with too many distractions.

The limited edition, transparent vinyl version comes with black or brown natural confluence elements.

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Toma Gouband/ Stéphane Thidet / Roman Bestion / Christophe Havard / Matt Wright /Juan Parra - Un Peu Plus Loin (Astropi, 2020/24)

Mysteries of Materiality and Transformation

By Stuart Broomer

I know of no musician who more strongly invokes the given material world – “nature” -- than the percussionist Toma Gouband and have appreciated his work since Courant des Vents (“Wind Current”) his first solo recording (released on psi in 2012 and reissued in April 2025 on Bandcamp. In a sense, he might be considered the master drummer of the natural world, sometimes using a horizontal bass drum as a resonator for lithophones (that is, rocks used as percussion instruments), sometimes striking stones together, or, alternatively, playing a conventional drum kit with tree branches (that begin with their leaves intact) as sticks. Watching Gouband play a solo in the latter manner on the stage of the Gulbenkian Foundation’s outdoor amphitheatre with Evan Parker and Matt Wright’s Trance Maps at the 2023 edition of Jazz em Agosto, surrounded by trees and coloured lights, the leaves and twigs disintegrating into their own ascendant, multi-colored dust clouds, was among the most profound visual representations of music that I have ever witnessed.

As with Courant des Vents, Un Peu Plus Loin is a re-issue, first issued on CD in 2020, it coincided with the height of the Covid-19 outbreak and shutdown and received little attention. It was issued on Bandcamp in December 2024. The mystery of the natural world is at the root of Un Peu Plus Loin (“A Little Further”), which began as the middle segment of a three-part installation, Desert, by conceptual artist/sculptor Stéphane Thidet, set in the ancient Cistertian Maubuisson Abbey, founded in 1236 by Blanche of Castile, at thetime Queen of France. “The segment invokes the mysterious moving rocks of “Racetrack Playa, a dried-up lake in California’s Death Valley. While the stones move (perhaps the result of the slow processes of freezing and thawing), leaving tracks (an image recreated in the rocks and trails in clay of Thidet’s sculpture), they have never been seen to move.”

After the performance, struck by the experience and the Abbey’s special resonance, Gouband writes “I returned alone to improvise in the suspended and mysterious presence of the rocks and their traces. Eleven minutes were extracted and then sent to four inventive electroacoustic musicians, each of whom created a variation from this base. What emerges is an intimate connection with the spirit of the work, an interstellar conversation, a setting in motion.” (The preceding two paragraphs contain material translated and/or paraphrased from Gouband’s notes on the Bandcamp page). The resultant pieces are named by fragments of that phrase Un Peu Plus Loin .

Un is Gouband’s original 11-minute improvisation. Its combination of spaces and echoes and brief rolls and elisions around a drum surface and metal percussion create an extraordinary atmosphere in keeping with the underlying phenomenon being represented here—that is the rolling rocks. As it develops that sense of rolling spheres, like ball bearings on the head of a drum, the work becomes increasing mobile, increasingly evocative. If there are drum solos like this inspired by mysterious spheres, then rolling rocks become a privileged phenomenon, never to be observed, yet known, occurring in an interval of human absence. It is a percussion improvisation of unimaginable subtlety, a percussion solo of the imagination, a kind of natural phenomenon in which an artist approaches a profound mystery.

Gouband’s solo is then followed by four electronic compositions exploring the materials of “Un”, each is transformative, a dream of a reverie, a reverie on a dream.

In “Peu’ by Roman Bestion, Gouband’s rolls are apt to move backwards, Reversed sounds grow in volume, metallic percussion multipies, somehow the desert grows aqueous, the burbling of scuba tanks grows louder, appear amid whispers of electronics and is then sustained, a bass underlay. An organ emerges, a deep bass drum, all the live sounds of Gouband’s kit embrace their phantom others.

In Plus, by Christophe Havard, drum strokes will retreat into the distance. The environment seems more electronic, also more distant, with imitations of glitches, skips and sudden interpolations of unaltered sounds. Extended tones suggest winds, ultimately the sound of subterranean echo chambers (reminiscent of the sounds of John Butcher’s tour of abandoned Scottish architecture ( Resonant Spaces [Confront 17]); the strangely gothic organ solo constructed under complex drumming, suggest the rolling stones occupy an epic, underground cavern/cathedral, sometimes growing louder among the stones’ special resonance…then drifting away, the stones growing quieter as if they are moving out of the frame of our hearing…

In Loin by Matthew Wright, there is further submersion, the echoing stones a background to sounds foregrounded yet ironically muffled, gradually expanded to feedback trilling, an increasingly complex chart of artificial distances and multiple competing clicks and whispers, with Hammond organ dribbles against elastic and metallic percussion instruments. All the sounds are shifting then: sudden upward glissandi, patchwork scratches and rubbery stretches.

The concluding piece, Juan Parra’s Desert, is the longest of these works (11:57) and the most strongly connected to the sounds of the original. At the beginning, preserved drum strokes background metallic scraping, some sounds echoing acoustically with the same degree of resonance as Gouband’s own, but here there are other sounds as well as those tangible forms of the original. It is as if a lost explorer has found a dusty sea and a soggy desert, all materiality open to sudden and substantial self-opposition, the wind growing stronger, the drone interchangeable, the metal strokes of the originating drums turned into a sustained unearthly force. The subterranean winds that move the stones, the undercurrents of earthly tides and tilts, are as subtle and forceful as a poet’s unsought dreams.

Perhaps there is another magnetism lost and found in the moving stones, here recovered in Gouband’s instruments, those materials lost and found in nature herein heard initially acoustically, are then reformed and reborn in the imaginative applications of technology. Embracing, expanding, extrapolating on a mystery, bridging spirit and materiality, this recording feels like what more music should be doing. 

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Willi Keller's The Circle

The roaring free-jazz of Willi Keller's The Circle is a joy to behold. Here is the quartet's concert from Jazzwerkstatt Peitz 2024.

Hans-Peter Hiby - saxophone 
Rieko Okuda - piano 
Meinrad Kneer - bass 
Willi Kellers - drums

  

WILLI KELLER'S THE CIRCLE @ Jazzwerkstatt Peitz | 2024 LIVE FROM BERLIN is a series by @berta.berlin. 

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Matthew Shipp - Cosmic Piano (Cantaloupe, 2025)

By Paul Acquaro 

What's in a label? Pianist Matthew Shipp specifically chose this one to release his latest solo work, Cosmic Piano. New York City's Cantaloupe is run by the Bang on a Can performing arts organization, which is known for modern classical (but really genre-fluid) festivals and performances. For Shipp, who is often categorized as a free-jazz pianist, this is a chance to present his music in a different context. When considering the meaning of a label, one wouldn't, for instance, expect to see Miley Cyrus releasing on AUM Fidelity, but if it happened, it would certainly turn some heads. Perhaps Shipp's music isn't quite represented by this example, but once you are aware of it, it is hard not to hear this music in a new context. 

 

Overall, while entirely improvised, the music captured on Cosmic Piano feels structured around a certain slowness. This does not mean that the tempo is slow, but rather somehow time feels partially suspended, unhooked from the normal ticking of the clock. The opening track, 'The Cosmic Piano,' starts the recording with a gently throbbing pulse and rich blocky chords. Short passages with contrasting tempos are interjected, but they serve as a transition between thoughtfully placed rich chord tones. The music unfolds with what could be mistaken for composed modern classical music. Then, the track 'Cosmic Junk Jazz DNA' starts by exposing the basic sequences of jazz piano - intervals that convey the sound of jazz are woven between anchoring events, deep notes from the far left side of the keyboard slam up against sharply phrased, tension filled chords from the mid-field, fragmentary melodies help carry the ideas forward.

 

'Orbit Light' is a burst of energy. Big, powerful chords are delivered with certainty, the mood is dramatic as the melodic and harmonic ideas act in unison. Classical leaning passages, complete dissonance and stark, naked phrases flow together, again with a slow and purposeful deportment. In 'Piano's DNA Upgrade,' one can hear the stem cells being injected, growing new healthy piano music cells. The approach is lighter, but there is still an oozing slowness below, connecting the many components, feeding the newly forming cells, growing with organic intent. A true slow burner is 'Suburban Outerspace,' in which spacious chords at the outset expand with lush tones and questioning melodic lines, pensive and avoiding expected resolutions.

 

Each track on Cosmic Piano stands apart, each one has an identify, but they are also very much of a piece. There is consistency and intent in this improvised music, it sounds like it was always meant to have been played this way, except that it has not, rather this is fully improvised music, composed by the cosmos. Cosmic Piano sits alongside contemporary classical music just as well as it does avant-garde jazz, it is definitive musical statement.

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Matthew Shipp - Black Mystery School Pianists and Other Writings (Autonomedia, 2025)

By Lee Rice Epstein

There may be nothing Matthew Shipp writes about in Black Mystery School Pianists and Other Writings that he hasn’t expressed or somehow meditated upon through his music. Yet, reading his words are clarifying and rejuvenating in exactly the complementary way you’d want a set of essays to lift up, not exactly unveiling, the author’s music. If this seems abstruse, in practice it is, like Shipp’s music when you spend real time with it, the opposite.

Right now, I’m listening to Shipp’s circa 2000 String Trio album, Expansion, Power, Release, with William Parker and Mat Maneri.Where Parker was born in 1952 (just after David S. Ware, born 1949), Maneri was born in late 1969, the cusp of a new decade. Shipp (and, for what it’s worth, his perennial collaborator Ivo Perelman) were born just between the two in 1960 (and 1961, respectively). Situating Shipp in time-space, for me at least, helps anchor how he emerged, a young man moving to New York City in the 1980s, and how he has been shaped by and continues to shape the practice of playing jazz piano. But then, what’s in a year, or an age, of any human’s lived experience? Shipp writes about himself being a spiritual being, channeling and expressing something deep and universal. This is something one gets from opening up to the music he’s recorded: the probing of time, his expert explorations of sound signifying space, physical manifested as aural and sonic structures. In the essays that fill Black Mystery School Pianists and Other Writings, he reflects on boxing, on New York City, on poetry, and David S. Ware and Sun Ra and, yes of course, the piano.

The opening essay, something of a centerpiece despite its placement up front, titled “Black Mystery School Pianists” lays out a lineage of piano players that somewhat echoes one I myself explored wading into last year’s stream of piano trio recordings, which for me started with Shipp’s trio and ended with variations on the concept. It’s worth naming the players here, Ran Blake, Andrew Hill, Hasaan Ibn Ali, Herbie Nichols, Sun Ra, Horace Tapscott, Cecil Taylor, Mal Waldron, Randy Weston, and sometimes Dave Burrell—neither Thelonious Monk nor Duke Ellington, directly, but they influence and cast a long shadow over the Black Mystery School. Once the thesis is laid out, echoes throughout the book. Sun Ra reappears later in a brief, moving tribute, and whether by name or not, Monk’s variations seem to inspire Shipp revisiting moments and themes, inviting recurrences in page after page should draw readers back time and again.

I’d highly recommend this book for two kinds of readers, without hesitation: first, fans of Shipp’s vast universe of recordings will find much of the same here, thoughtful rumination, sly humor, and numerous references to influences and mentors; the second kind of reader would be anyone, regardless of familiarity with Shipp specifically, who is interested in the history of jazz and its contemporary players.

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Matthew Shipp - Black Mystery School Pianists and Other Writings (Autonomedia, 2025)

By Gary Chapin

When I first read Shipp’s essay, “Black Mystery School Pianists,” two years after it was originally published (I saw a reference to it by someone in this parish), it simultaneously opened my mind AND brought things together in a way that made sense. I read the essay in the context of thinking about Mal Waldron, a fave of mine. In 1969 in the notes for his ECM album, Free at Last, Waldron wrote that the new album was his attempt to live in the world of Cecil Taylor (another fave)—a world of freedom. This sounds great, of course! But reading this in 1990 (when I first got Free at Last), I was baffled. I don’t know how much freedom Waldron thought he exhibited compared to how much freedom Cecil Taylor deployed—but the two, Waldron and Taylor, sounded nothing alike! How is it that they are grouped, by Waldron himself and by Shipp in this essay, as part of the same “project?”

Shipp’s words on this upended my assumptions and led me on a quest that has improved my quality of life ever since, including improving my appreciation of Waldron and Taylor. Imagine if Shipp had written a whole set of essays with comparable insights, joys, revelations, and quests!?!

Well, he has.

Nothing in this short book is as revelatory as that first essay, though so much is intriguing. Connecting improvisation to boxing is something I haven’t thought about since Miles Davis’s Jack Johnson album. His tributes to David S. Ware are moving and send you back to that gentleman’s music with a new compassion. A set of tour notes mixes philosophical observations with the practical, ground level movements of getting to spaces and playing for money. Many of the pieces are short — some seeming like excerpts from letters, almost — and there are four or five poems that beautifully and succinctly capture the spirit and rhythm of Shipp’s project. The final essay nearly matches up to the first and offers a General Theory of Improvisation that has you listening to old friends in new ways. He’s got a system or set of guiding principles in mind. It comes out in his music, but hearing it expressed in words is a new experience that adds to the whole.

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Ches Smith - Clone Row (Otherly Love Records, 2025)

By Aloysius Ventham

Having now passed my fortieth year, I have started re-watching the films, re-listening to the music and re-reading the books I found interesting when I was a younger man. Much to my surprise, a lot of the media I enjoyed was actually very good! While a younger me might not have been able to articulate in any sophisticated way what was interesting about the media, as such, I like to imagine I was grasping onto something about which I had some sort of sense to enjoy, but no corresponding concepts with which to fully engage.

The most obvious, and embarrassing, example I can think of was when I was reprimanded in my secondary school history class: I was avoiding doing my work by reading, in full view of the teacher, Nietzsche’s Thus Spake Zarathustra (this is about as violent as my rebellious streak ever got). My history teacher, a more intelligent and patient man than my frequent misbehaviour would suggest, stormed to the back of the classroom to see what I was reading – he burst out laughing when he saw the cover of the book and asked ‘do you have any idea what that’s about?’ – I said ‘yes, of course’ (I didn’t have even the remotest clue). The next day he turned up with a copy of On the Genealogy of Moralityand told me it was more accessible. I eventually went on to write a PhD thesis comparing Nietzschean models of agency (unfavourably) to Hegelian models of agency – so while it takes a long time for ideas to percolate fully from a page to my limited mind, percolate they eventually do.

The same is true for aesthetic judgments. When I was 17 I decided (for some reason I cannot remember) to try and get into jazz. I immediately fell in love with John Coltrane and Miles Davis. If you’d asked me why I enjoyed thismusic in particular, I suspect I wouldn’t have been able to give you an intelligent, or even coherent, response. Something about ‘the toots and the beats’ grabbed me, but I suspect his wouldn’t be a satisfying answer to the jazz community.

Perhaps the first time I hit my aesthetic maturity (or at least something resembling it) where I started learning, and being able to articulate why I liked the things I did came when I heard Chief Xian aTunde Adjuah’s Centennial Trilogy (Ropeadope Records, 2017). I found each track immediately accessible, it was like having my ears opened to a whole new range of information. The albums were satisfying on a technical level, and yet they were also clear . Eight years later and I still listen to these albums through in their entirety – they have neither staled nor spoiled, retaining their ability to excite and engage.

Perhaps the first time I’ve felt quite this passionately about an album was with Ches Smith’s masterpiece, Clone Row. I cannot work out, and at this point I am too afraid to ask, how to correctly pronounce the name of the album. On the one hand Clone Row would appear to be a pun based on Schoenberg’s twelve tone ‘tone row’ (living in Austria I cannot help but immediately love Schoenberg references). Thus, Clone Row would refer to a ‘line’ or ‘queue’ of clones. However, and perhaps this says more about me, when I first saw the album my brain immediately parsed this as Clone Row (row as in ‘a heated argument’), thus conjuring the image of a group of clones who aren’t getting along. Listening to the eponymous song, I’m inclined to think my initial parsing was correct - but perhaps this is the combative sci-fi nerd in me (you’ll know what I mean when you listen to the song)…anyway, I’m going to bravely call this album Clone Row (row as in argument) in conversations and I’ll look forward to the same smug social ostracism enjoyed by those who pronounce ‘gif’ ‘jif’.

Clone Row is used by Smith as a vehicle to display and showcase a talent at the height of its powers, demonstrating not only his own superlative musicianship (playing drums electronics, and ‘vibes’) but also his strengths as a composer and knower of the broader musical landscape to generate bop after bop, drawing on the extraordinary talents of Mary Halvorson - guitar (right channel), Liberty Ellman - guitar (left channel) and Nick Dunston, bass and electronics. Normally I don’t gravitate towards ‘guitar heavy’ jazz, but the performances here are all outstandingly creative, borderline otherworldly, definitely different to what I’d expect from a quartet with two guitarists (or three, depending on how you count). The performers sound energised, like they’re actually enjoying themselves, like they want you to check out this cool sound they’re making, almost as if in disbelief themselves. And perhaps they are in disbelief – Smith’s architectural edifice is astonishing to listen to – I can imagine performing it would have been mind-bending. One review (posted on Smith’s own website) describes the album thus:

So, this is a composer’s record most of all; a composer’s record performed by musicians who happen to be great improvisers.

And while I agree that this IS a composer’s record – I’m not sure I agree that it’s a composer’s record most of all– I think it is equally a record for musicians and listeners.

The opening bars of the first track (Ready Beat) sound like they’ve come straight from a Berlin night-club (non-pejorative), and just as everything is starting to feel a bit dance-y and electronic, some jarring, dial-up internet adjacent tones are thrown in alongside a meaty-sounding bass line. This first track is an excellent introduction to the album, so if you’re on the fence about investing time to listen to the whole thing, the opener will give you some (but only some) sense of what to expect there-on-out.

The album itself genre hops, taking us along Ches Smith’s astonishing technical and aesthetic range, at some points grungy, at others borderline funky; it’s not quite fusion jazz, but then it’s not quite anything. The experimentality of the album, the experimentality of New York-based (where else) Ches, is first class. If you want to convince your jazz-sceptical friends (I once heard jazz referred to as ‘the thinking man’s headache’) about the merits of free/experimental jazz, get them to listen to this. I suspect it will be my album of the year.

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Maria Faust - Recent Releases

By Eyal Hareuveni

Estonian, Copenhagen-based alto sax player-composer Maria Faust likes to challenge herself with new formats, unorthodox instrumentation, or by composing music that addresses urgent social and political issues, often about women’s place and rights over their own bodies. She is a strong believer that the artist has been given a voice and is obligated to use it.

Littorina Saxophone Quartet - Leaking Pipes (NoBusiness, 2025)

Littorina Saxophone Quartet is a new, pan-Baltic supergroup featuring Faust on alto sax, Finnish Mikko Innanen on alto, sopranino, and baritone saxes, Swedish Fredrik Ljungkvist on soprano and tenor saxes, and Lithuanian Liudas Mockūnas on sopranino, soprano, and bass saxes. The quartet is titled after the Littorina Sea, the ancient name of the Baltic Sea. Leaking Pipes is the debut album of this quartet, and it was recorded by Innanen at Hietsun Paviljonki in Helsinki in March 2024, after a few performances in Finland.

Leaking Pipes proves that these distinct sax players-improvisers-composers share more than just an ancient and new, sweet and salty, wild and calm sea. Innanen’s opening piece, “Kop Kop”, enjoys the orchestral sound of the Littorina Saxophone Quartet, making full use of the whole spectrum of the sax family and the quartet’s strong-minded voices, but also highlights the immediate affinity of these gifted sax players who enjoy exploring its theme with restless, passionate interplay. Faust’s dramatic and mysterious, choral “Hells Bells” sounds as if it corresponds with the sea movements of the Baltic Sea. Ljungkvist’s “Nils Olof” suggests a lyrical, emotional story, beautifully narrated by the quartet that explores its carefully-layered nuances with commanding solos. Mockūnas’ “Shadows” follows with another dramatic, darker story that cleverly employs the sonic spectrum of the quartet. It ends too fast with the free improvised, title piece, and calls for more from this fine collective quartet.

Maria Faust Sacrum Facere - Marches Rewound & Rewritten (Stunt, 2025)

Faust grew up in the Soviet Union, where marches were a daily propaganda tool. Early on, she has learnt to read the world between the lines, and to use music as a hiding place, and about art as the only place to find freedom and truth. Marches Rewound & Rewritten is the third album of the Sacrum Facere (in Latin, human scarification) octet and continues Faust’s compositional strategies that dissect the nature of violence and tyranny in our society.

Sacrum Facere uses the march format for criticising the glorification of wars and their heroes, while repressing the voices of their victims, the horror, and suffering, and from a sober, compassionate feminine point of view. Former Estonian president Toomas Hendrik Ilves, an avid music lover, mentions in the liner notes that Faust makes us understand the horrific outcomes of wars and the oppressive role of the marches.

Faust leads an ensemble of Danish musicians, or ones who have studied in Denmark, to strip this most militarized form of music from its symbolic values. Italian pianist-drummer Emanuele Maniscalco plays the snare drum and keeps the repetitive, ritualistic rhythmic essence of the march, but Faust’s nine, untitled marches turn this format upside down. Marches Rewound & Rewritten is structured as a nine-movement, choral jazz suite that leads to an emotional, peaceful catharsis. Faust’s reimagines this old musical format and strips the marches from their pompous, propagandistic lies, slowing them down, rewinding them, and allowing them to fail. The soulful, compassionate playing of the Sacrum Facere ensemble reclaims and liberates the march from being a tool of war-mongering tyranny, in our homes and between countries and beliefs.

Maria Faust & The Economics - Rahamaa/Business as Usual (Self-Released, 2025) 

Faust is most likely the only composer who can make a playful, musical drama out of a huge monetary fiasco, with some enlightening lessons. Rahamaa (Moneyland in Estonian) or Business as Usual relates to the largest money laundering scandals in European history when Danske Bank, the largest Danish bank, merged with Finnish Sampo Bank, which had an Estonian branch. Between 2007 and 2015, over 800 billion Euros of suspicious transactions originating from Russia, Latvia, and Estonia flowed through the Estonian branch's non-resident portfolio. It was unveiled as a result of the war in Ukraine and the sanctions imposed on Russia. None of the heads of Danske Bank were punished, and all the charges against them were dropped, but this scandal had a devastating effect on the Estonian economy.

Faust composed the music for Rahamaa, a multilingual production of the Estonian National Drama Theatre that premiered at the European Capital of Culture, Tartu in Estonia, in June 2024. The production reflects on the newly independent Estonia’s naive and innocent rush to leave poverty behind and catch up with the West, and asks what happens to a person when their only measure of morality and worth is their bank account balance?

The album was recorded at the Eesti Draamateater in Tallinn in January 2025. Faust plays alto sax and leads a new chamber jazz quintet, aptly titled The Ecomosists, with Norwegian trumpeter Oscar Andreas Haug (of Amalie Dahl's Dafnie), Danish frequent collaborator of Faust, trombonist Mads Hyhne, Estonian tubist Toomas-Oskar Kahur, and drummer-percussionist Ahto Abner. Faust's clever pieces for this unconventional quintet, as well as the imaginative arrangements, suggest an ironic and absurdist perspective on the scandal, articulated in a thriller-like, follow-the-money drama that mocks the pompous, corrupt bankers who enabled such a massive fiasco.

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