The Irrational Numbers (Premonition, 2007)

An “irrational number” is basically a number that can not be expressed as a fraction, one that has no terminating decimal point. “Pi” as we all learned in Geometry 101 is a famous irrational number represented by an endless numerical sequence--3.141592653589793… you get the idea. One way to translate the notion of “irrational numbers” to music is to imagine concepts with infinite variations, never-ending ideas. In this context, Drew Gress’ second quintet recording is aptly titled. The ten compositions are not “irrational” -– most have an accessible logic--but offer infinite interpretative possibilities, particularly when the music is expressed by a team of like-minded explorers pushing the (mostly acoustic) boundaries in all directions. Of particular interest is the opportunity to hear Craig Taborn on acoustic piano and Tim Berne serving up melodic aperitifs in the midst of his more expected maniacal journeys.

As its name implies, “Bellwether” provides a short introduction to the remainder of the recording, orchestral horns blowing over popping basslines and what sounds like an electronic keyboard. “Chevelle” finds Taborn and Gress locked into a wild and jagged counterpoint before the horns join with their slightly dissonant harmonies. Taborn turns melodic, his stretched-out phrases leaving lots of space in between for Rainey’s constant thumping. Gress launches one of a handful of masterful solos over Taborn’s firm and luxurious lines, followed by Alessi’s squiggly phrases rendered with a bit of whine and slinky connections, mounting a steep ascent and then enjoying some playtime at the summit. Turning south, “Your Favorite Kind” creates the sound of a whacky Latin band, Berne initially in the upper register, leading over strong basslines and a frenzied Rainey, shifting to lower gear as Alessi approaches. Now in Taborn’s hands, Latin becomes ruminative post bop, evolving into octave-hopping gymnastics. “Faux Jobim” conjures softer if shifting breezes, Taborn’s lyricism pushing Berne into some of the most melodic playing I have ever heard from him. Trumpet and sax, superimposed slightly out of register, create a whole of provocative harmonies.

“Neopolitan” at 12 ½ minutes is the longest track, a centerpiece composition that allows each musician time to explore and contribute new designs, and challenging the listener to track the different pathways to determine how these five independent minds stay in touch with each other. Over an opening piano/bass vamp, the horns wash the early passages with a Dolphyish energy with a repeating melodic line. Taborn is at the center of much of the action, creating brief pirouets under the horns, his comping figures adding a luminous sheen beneath the harsher sounds of sax and trumpet, softening their edges. Berne and Taborn, rallied by bass and drums, have an exciting conversation—clearly having engaged in such interplay many times. There are hints at Monk riffs here and there as the track moves increasingly over the edge, continually pushed by Rainey’s antics and Gress’s frantic basslines, tethered in form and space by Taborn’s ethereal accompaniment. Alessi sings bird-like phrases at the high end, climbing uphill and descending on a slippery slope like a surfer riding on sonic waves, tossed up and down over a rough sea. The ensemble comes together, ending the track with the off-kilter harmonies of the beginning.

“Blackbird BackTalk” features back and forth shifting from one musician to the other, as if playing “hot potato” or engaging in a friendly bidding war in a country auction, the exchanges of short passages showing everyone off to good advantage. “By Far” conjures a larger brass ensemble adrift in the cosmos, buoyed by celestial keyboard tones, background cymbals and subtle bass accents. The horns journey off in different directions, sending signals back home as if satellites circling the mother ship (rhythm section). This track hints of some modern European chamber jazz (such as trumpeter Nils Wulker) but less floaty, with more solid footings. The two-minute bass solo “Mas Relief” is melodic and melancholy, leading into the cacaphonous “That Heavenly Hell,” building from angular hornlines to the most free-form action of the disc. Threads of melody rise from the ashes as the music recedes into tinkling piano notes, a calming wave of horns and another sublime bass solo. “True South” closes the set with a two-minute piano solo marked by thick chord progressions and lyrically off-center note choices, followed by the ensemble’s marvelous shifts in color as electronic elements are added and subtracted, including a take-off on Sousa's "Stars and Stripes Forever."

The Irrational Numbers is a triumph of composition for Drew Gress and of chamber exchange and sonic exploration for the ensemble.

Prezens (ECM, 2007)

Anticipate a different review of a live performance when at least some sources of sound might be accurately identified. I was in fact prepared for a degree of chaos. What else can you expect when the CD press release indicates that the leader is not only playing guitar but also “live sampling & manipulation, microprocessors” and the keyboardist is playing not only Rhodes and B3 but “mellotron, bent circuits and such.” And such? Fortunately (for me), keyboard master Craig Taborn described “bent circuits” for the Star Tribune as “basically taking any consumer electronic device and rewiring it to do different things and make different sounds." I am not fooled by the simple descriptions of Tim Berne merely playing alto sax and Tom Rainey playing drums. Neither has a straight-ahead thought in his brain and both can create sounds acoustically that arouse jealousy among loops and circuits.

Having already recorded this band in live performance (for a later release?), Torn chose to use the a dozen hours of collective improvisation gathered over several years of club and festival appearances as just a starting point for a final product of “remixing, reshaping, recomposing… to create discrete collages of power and beauty, by turns ambient and volatile” as ECM notes in their press release. Thus Prezens reflects improvisation on two levels, the immediate response of the musicians to each other in the moment, and the later planned reconstruction of the moments, “not so much the sound of the band in the room as the sound of the band inside Torn’s head,” as described by ECM. Those already familiar with Berne, Taborn and Rainey (either as Berne’s Acoustic Hard Cell or through their many collective and independent projects) might wonder why anyone would need to revamp the work of such innovators in the first place, but Torn wanted to recreate the way the music evolved and consider how it might have sounded if different choices had been made at the time. All things are possible in the digital age, and you not only can preserve moments in time but you can preserve moments of future or even never time.

It’s not easy to describe the tracks that make up this recording. Torn’s experience with film scores is ever-present, as many of these episodes seem to beg for a layer of visual adventure, an acting out of suggestive sound effects. Another common element throughout is the ambient quality, intergalactic atmospherics, largely thanks to the ever-thinking Craig Taborn as well as Torn’s own oddball pedals and cut-and-paste pastimes. The opening sounds of “AK” could be retrofitted from a 70s rock band grafted onto a more ethereal avant garde downtown session. Who knows, maybe that’s exactly what we have here! “Rest and Unrest” is given a smattering of spoken word, the statement “Rest and unrest derive from illusion” repeated and repeated, the musician’s efforts looped and echoed, a strong undercurrent from Torn’s guitar interwoven with other odd noises that create varying degrees of whine, scraping, and electronic skipping. On “The Structural Functions of Prezens,” you awaken in outer space where time and gravity have disappeared. Sustained tones, a prolonged melody from Berne, a sneak attack from Rainey are harnessed by Torn with some truly dark and evil suggestions.

Taborn’s B-3 gives “Bulbs” the feel of a church service, if only briefly. Rainey is into a rock groove while his cohorts clang and clash; squeaks swirl in the distance, while the sounds of turning a circuit on and off signify losing and regaining power. What’s real? What’s not? You can surely sense Torn's hand here as this would make a heady soundtrack for a science fiction action thriller. Torn turns melodic on “Them Buried Standing” as Latiny percussion amidst organ tones and audible circuitry create meandering contemplation. “Sink” suggests a Middle Eastern bazaar with snake charmers and belly dancers, a “Caravan” careening on the surface of the moon, with maybe everything but the kitchen sink. Twelve minutes of atmospheric antics mark “Neck Deep in the Harrow” while “Miss Place, The Mist,” with additional drumming from Matt Chamberlain, sounds like a classical chamber work for strings, the spell broken by the sounds Torn’s whiney, bent guitar. The final “Transmit Regardless” breaks apart as if there are skips in the track, but I doubt these are engineering flaws but rather part of the total sonic experiment. This one evolves from a distorted rock track existence to something more ominous, with gravelly growls like a jackhammer encountering a wild cat.

In live performance, none of this will happen as recorded, of course. It will be another event entirely, the ingredients of Prezens without the remix. As Joshua Klein noted in Pitchfork, “Prezens provides ample proof that you needn't be traveling at top speed before everything becomes a blur, and that a blur can often be just as beguiling and beautiful as more sharply defined trips.” Nevertheless, seatbelts required.

Drew Gress and Dave Torn bring their respective ensembles into the Walker Art Center’s McGuire Theater in Minneapolis on March 28th. Click here for more about the gigs.