4 Famously, Ornette Coleman performed without a pianist in his band for decades. That didn't stop a high-school-aged Curtis Clark from trying to convince Coleman that he just hadn't heard the right pianist. Who knows how a more persuasive Clark might have turned out. As it happened, the pianist who failed to break the Ornette Coleman piano barrier developed into a mainstream if quirky player with a graceful sense of swing. The underexposed American spent a healthy chunk of his career playing in the Netherlands, and so it's not at all surprising to find that he's turned up on Home Safely, a decade-old session and inaugural release for bassist Ernst Glerum's new label, Favorite. The date features a pair of Dutchmen, Glerum and drummer Han Bennink, in support of Clark, who also wrote all the compositions. Home Safely showcases Clark's modest compositions and his dignified, spare touch, which can recall John Lewis. It also exposes his tendency to fixate on his changes and let the momentum seep right out of the music. Bennink resorts to some especially snappy swing just to keep things moving, but it's label boss Glerum who makes the best impression. Much of the time, his active, octave-jumping bass lines are the most interesting thing going. true 197 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 15444 88 200502 true 0 70 2005-01-01T00:00:00-05:00

Famously, Ornette Coleman performed without a pianist in his band for decades. That didn't stop a high-school-aged Curtis Clark from trying to convince Coleman that he just hadn't heard the right pianist. Who knows how a more persuasive Clark might have turned out. As it happened, the pianist who failed to break the Ornette Coleman piano barrier developed into a mainstream if quirky player with a graceful sense of swing. The underexposed American spent a healthy chunk of his career playing in the Netherlands, and so it's not at all surprising to find that he's turned up on Home Safely, a decade-old session and inaugural release for bassist Ernst Glerum's new label, Favorite. The date features a pair of Dutchmen, Glerum and drummer Han Bennink, in support of Clark, who also wrote all the compositions. Home Safely showcases Clark's modest compositions and his dignified, spare touch, which can recall John Lewis. It also exposes his tendency to fixate on his changes and let the momentum seep right out of the music. Bennink resorts to some especially snappy swing just to keep things moving, but it's label boss Glerum who makes the best impression. Much of the time, his active, octave-jumping bass lines are the most interesting thing going.

2009-03-02T00:24:25-05:00

4 Ernst Glerum's oddball recording Omnibus One (Favorite) is really two distinct sessions rolled into one. The first features Glerum, surprisingly, on piano rather than bass, which is played by Clemens van der Feen, and drummer Owen Hart Jr. Glerum, to his credit, doesn't embarrass himself on the piano, though he doesn't attempt anything all that tricky either. He sticks to simple melodies and improvises over midtempo gospel- and R&B-based tunes. The band gives the music a modern touch, thanks in large part to Hart, who updates New Orleans swing with touches of hip-hop. In more spirited moments, they can sound like a polite European echo of Medeski, Martin and Wood. Glerum alternates tracks by his piano trio with those from his second group, a trio including van der Feen again, Han Bennink on drums and Glerum now doubling on bass. This two- bass trio isn't the grandstanding move it might at first appear, as Glerum and van der Feen make a collaborative effort out of it. They trade blues choruses, perform unison themes and even, on a thoroughly weird run through Coltrane's "Naima," churn out something like bowed country fiddle. Predictably murky and a little bit camp but also, in the end, winning. Glerum even tosses in a terrific version of Slam Stewart's "Slam's Blues," as if to show that he's completely in on the joke. true 197 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 15445 88 200502 true 0 70 2005-01-01T00:00:00-05:00

Ernst Glerum's oddball recording Omnibus One (Favorite) is really two distinct sessions rolled into one. The first features Glerum, surprisingly, on piano rather than bass, which is played by Clemens van der Feen, and drummer Owen Hart Jr. Glerum, to his credit, doesn't embarrass himself on the piano, though he doesn't attempt anything all that tricky either. He sticks to simple melodies and improvises over midtempo gospel- and R&B-based tunes. The band gives the music a modern touch, thanks in large part to Hart, who updates New Orleans swing with touches of hip-hop. In more spirited moments, they can sound like a polite European echo of Medeski, Martin and Wood. Glerum alternates tracks by his piano trio with those from his second group, a trio including van der Feen again, Han Bennink on drums and Glerum now doubling on bass. This two- bass trio isn't the grandstanding move it might at first appear, as Glerum and van der Feen make a collaborative effort out of it. They trade blues choruses, perform unison themes and even, on a thoroughly weird run through Coltrane's "Naima," churn out something like bowed country fiddle. Predictably murky and a little bit camp but also, in the end, winning. Glerum even tosses in a terrific version of Slam Stewart's "Slam's Blues," as if to show that he's completely in on the joke.

2009-03-02T00:24:25-05:00

4 Considering the personalities of Ernst Glerum and Han Bennink, it's a little disappointing to come across them on something as humorless as Dance, My Dear? (Data). The two of them, along with ICP Orchestra colleague and reedist Ab Baars, comprise pianist Michiel Scheen's quartet on this run through the keyboardist's frustrating music. Of course, creative musicians have made engrossing music out of elements commonly or casually considered extra- or anti-musical. Scheen seems very interested in this sort of thing here as his music is characterized by its constantly foiled momentum, pounding repetition and minimal harmonic movement. Scheen fails to marshal these elements into anything of greater interest, though. Scheen himself is a cantankerous, hectoring presence on his own record, whether he's clipping at Baars heels, as on "God in Heaven (Stay!)," or obstinately pounding out tightly packed chords for measures on end as on "Non-Circle Agreeable." Baars riffs and rumbles over Scheen's rhythmic fragments and more or less sticks to Scheen's script. Glerum's and Bennink's few features give this recording its few pale beams of light. true 197 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 15446 88 200502 true 0 70 2005-01-01T00:00:00-05:00

Considering the personalities of Ernst Glerum and Han Bennink, it's a little disappointing to come across them on something as humorless as Dance, My Dear? (Data). The two of them, along with ICP Orchestra colleague and reedist Ab Baars, comprise pianist Michiel Scheen's quartet on this run through the keyboardist's frustrating music. Of course, creative musicians have made engrossing music out of elements commonly or casually considered extra- or anti-musical. Scheen seems very interested in this sort of thing here as his music is characterized by its constantly foiled momentum, pounding repetition and minimal harmonic movement. Scheen fails to marshal these elements into anything of greater interest, though. Scheen himself is a cantankerous, hectoring presence on his own record, whether he's clipping at Baars heels, as on "God in Heaven (Stay!)," or obstinately pounding out tightly packed chords for measures on end as on "Non-Circle Agreeable." Baars riffs and rumbles over Scheen's rhythmic fragments and more or less sticks to Scheen's script. Glerum's and Bennink's few features give this recording its few pale beams of light.

2009-03-02T00:24:25-05:00

4 Trombonists are like the kids picked last for the kickball squad. They're hardly ever stars, and they're typically tabbed to fill out a band's sound. Logging years in secondary or supporting roles can give a musician an unique perspective on things, though, and that may help explain Joost Buis' Astronotes (Data), an impressive recording and something clearly marked by the trombonist's mind. In place of a standard kit drummer, Buis employs two percussionists, Alan Purves and Michael Vatcher. Purves and Vatcher's coloristic, minimal percussion gives Buis' tentet plenty of room for their broad, diffuse sound. Buis takes full advantage, minimizing solo features and making his creative way with texture and counterpoint-familiar territory for a low-brass player-the main attraction. As unpredictable and protean as his music can be here, Buis works with some signature elements that help tie it all together. He uses the power of the band sparingly and focuses on the horns, frequently treating them as a single voice. He loves to layer contrasting passages and works in moments of free improv here and there as a secondary element. He also always seems to come back to swooning passages of swing that would melt the heart of any Ellington admirer; Buis' band even gets around to covering Ellington's "Zweet Zurzday." Buis also takes advantage of his status as captain of this kickball squad with the gorgeous trombone feature "Nantones." true 197 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 15447 88 200502 true 0 70 2005-01-01T00:00:00-05:00

Trombonists are like the kids picked last for the kickball squad. They're hardly ever stars, and they're typically tabbed to fill out a band's sound. Logging years in secondary or supporting roles can give a musician an unique perspective on things, though, and that may help explain Joost Buis' Astronotes (Data), an impressive recording and something clearly marked by the trombonist's mind. In place of a standard kit drummer, Buis employs two percussionists, Alan Purves and Michael Vatcher. Purves and Vatcher's coloristic, minimal percussion gives Buis' tentet plenty of room for their broad, diffuse sound. Buis takes full advantage, minimizing solo features and making his creative way with texture and counterpoint-familiar territory for a low-brass player-the main attraction. As unpredictable and protean as his music can be here, Buis works with some signature elements that help tie it all together. He uses the power of the band sparingly and focuses on the horns, frequently treating them as a single voice. He loves to layer contrasting passages and works in moments of free improv here and there as a secondary element. He also always seems to come back to swooning passages of swing that would melt the heart of any Ellington admirer; Buis' band even gets around to covering Ellington's "Zweet Zurzday." Buis also takes advantage of his status as captain of this kickball squad with the gorgeous trombone feature "Nantones."

2009-03-02T00:24:25-05:00

4 Vocal improvisers Jaap Blonk and Maja Ratkje rifle through 18 short improvised duets in less than 45 minutes on Majaap (Kontrans). Some improv pieces top the four-minute mark, but most come in under two, and the pacing is manic throughout. Neither vocalist has any time for anything resembling conventional voice technique. Their sound instead comes from the clearing, scratching and scraping of teeth, tongue, spittle and throat. Here, also, are the sounds of intense laughter and the abstracted sounds of people jabbering over one another at high speed-just the sort of effect you expect to hear in a theater production about fat bourgeoisie. The sounds they make seem to be geared more toward artful effect than in the unpredictability of improvisation, and would probably be much better heard live anyway. true 197 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 15448 88 200502 true 0 70 2005-01-01T00:00:00-05:00

Vocal improvisers Jaap Blonk and Maja Ratkje rifle through 18 short improvised duets in less than 45 minutes on Majaap (Kontrans). Some improv pieces top the four-minute mark, but most come in under two, and the pacing is manic throughout. Neither vocalist has any time for anything resembling conventional voice technique. Their sound instead comes from the clearing, scratching and scraping of teeth, tongue, spittle and throat. Here, also, are the sounds of intense laughter and the abstracted sounds of people jabbering over one another at high speed-just the sort of effect you expect to hear in a theater production about fat bourgeoisie. The sounds they make seem to be geared more toward artful effect than in the unpredictability of improvisation, and would probably be much better heard live anyway.

2009-03-02T00:24:25-05:00

4 From a freewheeling band like Bik Bent Braam, pianist and bandleader Michiel Braam gets a remarkably controlled sound. Part credit goes to his able band, but Braam earns credit for the rest himself with his clever compositional and performance method. On Growing Pains (Bik Bent Braam), a recording culled from live performances in Holland and Belgium, the band follows a strategy of Braam's he calls bonsai-ing. In something like a cross between John Zorn's Cobra and Duke Ellington, Braam's method involves composing two themes for each member of his band, tailored to the individual player and worked out in advance by the group. Braam sets the final list of material in advance, but the order and the tempi are all worked out in the moment. Once a performance begins, a player may attempt to cut through the collective sound and cue one of their two themes. Once the band commits to a player's theme, the band then gives it a good six or seven minutes and then waits for the next persuasive cue. It may sound like the sort of improvisational game that produces terribly abstract music, but the results are far from it. This band is so practiced at this, and the themes themselves are so portable and adaptable that the band moves gracefully and seamlessly between the bonsais, which Braam distinguishes with rumbling ostinatos, spirited shouts or tight-as-a-knot cartoon swing. The music feels loose and organic, even a little volatile, without sounding at all unruly. Its strength becomes its weakness over the course of this double-disc recording, however. Braam's themes, designed for on-the-fly utility, aren't the most distinctive, and by the time that nearly every band member has a go at both of their bonsais, the effect wears a little thin. true 197 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 false 15449 88 200502 true 0 70 2005-01-01T00:00:00-05:00

From a freewheeling band like Bik Bent Braam, pianist and bandleader Michiel Braam gets a remarkably controlled sound. Part credit goes to his able band, but Braam earns credit for the rest himself with his clever compositional and performance method. On Growing Pains (Bik Bent Braam), a recording culled from live performances in Holland and Belgium, the band follows a strategy of Braam's he calls bonsai-ing. In something like a cross between John Zorn's Cobra and Duke Ellington, Braam's method involves composing two themes for each member of his band, tailored to the individual player and worked out in advance by the group. Braam sets the final list of material in advance, but the order and the tempi are all worked out in the moment. Once a performance begins, a player may attempt to cut through the collective sound and cue one of their two themes. Once the band commits to a player's theme, the band then gives it a good six or seven minutes and then waits for the next persuasive cue. It may sound like the sort of improvisational game that produces terribly abstract music, but the results are far from it. This band is so practiced at this, and the themes themselves are so portable and adaptable that the band moves gracefully and seamlessly between the bonsais, which Braam distinguishes with rumbling ostinatos, spirited shouts or tight-as-a-knot cartoon swing. The music feels loose and organic, even a little volatile, without sounding at all unruly. Its strength becomes its weakness over the course of...

2009-03-02T00:24:25-05:00

4 For a much more pointed engagement with Michiel Braam's music and his playing, one could hardly do better than Michiel vs. Braam (Bik Bent Braam). For this solo recital, Braam picked out nine charts he'd written for the large ensemble-only one piece from Growing Pains shows up here-and, in a very welcome gesture, includes the lead sheets with the CD. Left to his own devices, Braam is a frenetic, mercurial performer. He tends to focus on crunching, airborne runs in the right hand with the occasional addition of basic stride figures in the left. He prefers declarative statements delivered in a pounding staccato. If you're imagining a maniacal descendant of Art Tatum, well, that's about right. He rarely plays his own heads straight, and his distortions run from the mild (reharmonizations, altered melodies, abruptly stretched and condensed tempi) to the obliterating (see the 15-minute, bipolar fantasy based very loosely on his own "Ballet" as the prime example). Throughout the recital, Braam seesaws between a playful regard and outright impatience for the music in a way that charms and jars in equal measure. true 197 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 15450 88 200502 true 0 70 2005-01-01T00:00:00-05:00

For a much more pointed engagement with Michiel Braam's music and his playing, one could hardly do better than Michiel vs. Braam (Bik Bent Braam). For this solo recital, Braam picked out nine charts he'd written for the large ensemble-only one piece from Growing Pains shows up here-and, in a very welcome gesture, includes the lead sheets with the CD. Left to his own devices, Braam is a frenetic, mercurial performer. He tends to focus on crunching, airborne runs in the right hand with the occasional addition of basic stride figures in the left. He prefers declarative statements delivered in a pounding staccato. If you're imagining a maniacal descendant of Art Tatum, well, that's about right. He rarely plays his own heads straight, and his distortions run from the mild (reharmonizations, altered melodies, abruptly stretched and condensed tempi) to the obliterating (see the 15-minute, bipolar fantasy based very loosely on his own "Ballet" as the prime example). Throughout the recital, Braam seesaws between a playful regard and outright impatience for the music in a way that charms and jars in equal measure.

2009-03-02T00:24:25-05:00

4 I Compani has been around since 1985, and its mandate hasn't changed much at all since. The ensemble, formed and still directed by alto and tenor player Bo van de Graaf, devotes itself to the music of Nino Rota, whom film fans will recognize as Federico Fellini's Bernard Hermann. Over the years, van de Graaf and other members of the band have fattened the band's book with original compositions in the style of Rota, but it's Rota's work that still forms the core of I Compani's output. Fellini (IcDisc), a collection of Nota and van de Graaf compositions performed live, marks the band's second decade, and by now this routine is old hat. The band performs Rota's surreal folk music, minor-key ballads and carnival marches with balance and precision, saving the longer solos for van de Graaf's more atmospheric and open-ended pieces. Pieter Douma's electric bass gives the music a slightly funky touch, but the overall mood is respectful. For the curious: Fellini pulls from La Dolce Vita, 8 1/2, La Strada, Juliet of the Spirits, Amarcord and Casanova. true 197 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 15451 88 200502 true 0 70 2005-01-01T00:00:00-05:00

I Compani has been around since 1985, and its mandate hasn't changed much at all since. The ensemble, formed and still directed by alto and tenor player Bo van de Graaf, devotes itself to the music of Nino Rota, whom film fans will recognize as Federico Fellini's Bernard Hermann. Over the years, van de Graaf and other members of the band have fattened the band's book with original compositions in the style of Rota, but it's Rota's work that still forms the core of I Compani's output. Fellini (IcDisc), a collection of Nota and van de Graaf compositions performed live, marks the band's second decade, and by now this routine is old hat. The band performs Rota's surreal folk music, minor-key ballads and carnival marches with balance and precision, saving the longer solos for van de Graaf's more atmospheric and open-ended pieces. Pieter Douma's electric bass gives the music a slightly funky touch, but the overall mood is respectful. For the curious: Fellini pulls from La Dolce Vita, 8 1/2, La Strada, Juliet of the Spirits, Amarcord and Casanova.

2009-03-02T00:24:25-05:00

4 Hollywood O.K. Pieces (Geestgronden) is technically credited to all involved, but pianist Guus Janssen wrote the music and that gives him an edge in the standings. Janssen has composed an entire opera around the biblical story of Noah, but aside from that he tends to stick to smaller groups like trios and solo settings-including one of the very few (or only?) outings of free improvisational harpsichord on record. On Hollywood, he's playing live with a sextet, and it's a terrific one at that. Jannsen's music has a touch of formality to it, without being staid or stiff. He likes to mix layered themes and free improvisation with echoes of West Coast cool, classic jazz and modern classical, and he couldn't have picked a better group for this nuanced program. Bassist Ernst Glerum and Guus' brother Wim, the band's drummer, give the band deceptively simple support, but the frontline horns, in particular, are irresistible. Peter van Bergen, Vincent Chancey and Michael Rabinovitch play clarinet, French horn and bassoon, respectively-a strange lineup with chameleon powers. They give the music a baroque sound when it calls for it, but they can also deliver the sound of a classic postbop front line only slightly mutated. Van Bergen's clarinet has some Dolphy and some New Orleans in it, Chancey's French horn can approximate a trombone and Rabinovitch's bassoon, which one just needs to hear to believe, can mimic a cello or swing hard as a mystery reed. The band packs this performance with great solos all around, including a thrilling performance by van Bergen at the top of the opening number, "Angelicanzone," which hits a high the rest of the performance almost but doesn't quite match. true 197 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 15452 88 200502 true 0 70 2005-01-01T00:00:00-05:00

Hollywood O.K. Pieces (Geestgronden) is technically credited to all involved, but pianist Guus Janssen wrote the music and that gives him an edge in the standings. Janssen has composed an entire opera around the biblical story of Noah, but aside from that he tends to stick to smaller groups like trios and solo settings-including one of the very few (or only?) outings of free improvisational harpsichord on record. On Hollywood, he's playing live with a sextet, and it's a terrific one at that. Jannsen's music has a touch of formality to it, without being staid or stiff. He likes to mix layered themes and free improvisation with echoes of West Coast cool, classic jazz and modern classical, and he couldn't have picked a better group for this nuanced program. Bassist Ernst Glerum and Guus' brother Wim, the band's drummer, give the band deceptively simple support, but the frontline horns, in particular, are irresistible. Peter van Bergen, Vincent Chancey and Michael Rabinovitch play clarinet, French horn and bassoon, respectively-a strange lineup with chameleon powers. They give the music a baroque sound when it calls for it, but they can also deliver the sound of a classic postbop front line only slightly mutated. Van Bergen's clarinet has some Dolphy and some New Orleans in it, Chancey's French horn can approximate a trombone and Rabinovitch's bassoon, which one just needs to hear to believe, can mimic a cello or swing hard as a mystery reed. The band packs this performance with great solos all around, including a thrilling performance...

2009-03-02T00:24:25-05:00

4 As a child the Italian writer Italo Calvino marched in fascist parades and then came home to the populist socialism of his antifascist parents. Yet, he says, it wasn't a difficult situation. Contradictions like these help shape a life. Calvino may have been the ideal listener for the ICP Orchestra, a decades-old ensemble that runs on contradiction. This improvising ensemble, currently staffed with 10 players, neatly folds a stack of contradiction into their most recent recording, Aan & Uit (ICP). In what turns out to be a feint, a jaunty, cleanly played 20-second theme opens and closes the recording. In between, American hot jazz rubs up against moody European cabaret and clunky brass band music, chamber classical and conducted free improvisation. Hard-driving swing encounters pulselessness. Stately themes played by the strings alternate with barnyard animal noises and nonsense vocals. At the center of the recording is pianist/composer Misha Mengelberg's "Picnic," a suite in six parts sporting comically banal titles like "A Beautiful Day," and "Let's Go to the River." The music itself-a series of unpredictable encounters between members of the ensemble separated by short silences and bookended by an upbeat traveling theme-is considerably more troubling and evasive then the names suggest. More soberly delivered absurdism and crack playing fills the disc to near capacity-it tops 70 minutes. Other highlights include trumpeter Thomas Heberer's "Let's Climb a Hill," also a feature for him, and a sanguine run through Hoagy Carmichael's "Barbaric," taken at a polyphonic tilt of Minguslike intensity. true 197 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 15264 88 200502 true 0 70 2005-01-01T00:00:00-05:00

As a child the Italian writer Italo Calvino marched in fascist parades and then came home to the populist socialism of his antifascist parents. Yet, he says, it wasn't a difficult situation. Contradictions like these help shape a life. Calvino may have been the ideal listener for the ICP Orchestra, a decades-old ensemble that runs on contradiction. This improvising ensemble, currently staffed with 10 players, neatly folds a stack of contradiction into their most recent recording, Aan & Uit (ICP). In what turns out to be a feint, a jaunty, cleanly played 20-second theme opens and closes the recording. In between, American hot jazz rubs up against moody European cabaret and clunky brass band music, chamber classical and conducted free improvisation. Hard-driving swing encounters pulselessness. Stately themes played by the strings alternate with barnyard animal noises and nonsense vocals. At the center of the recording is pianist/composer Misha Mengelberg's "Picnic," a suite in six parts sporting comically banal titles like "A Beautiful Day," and "Let's Go to the River." The music itself-a series of unpredictable encounters between members of the ensemble separated by short silences and bookended by an upbeat traveling theme-is considerably more troubling and evasive then the names suggest. More soberly delivered absurdism and crack playing fills the disc to near capacity-it tops 70 minutes. Other highlights include trumpeter Thomas Heberer's "Let's Climb a Hill," also a feature for him, and a sanguine run through Hoagy Carmichael's "Barbaric," taken at a polyphonic tilt of Minguslike intensity.

2009-03-02T00:24:18-05:00

4 The ICP Orchestra encapsulates the singular absurdist aesthetic of experimental Dutch jazz. The group, once known as the Instant Composers Pool Orchestra, has existed in some form or another for nearly four decades, forever helmed by the marvelous pianist Misha Mengelberg and frequently joined by madcap drummer Han Bennink. Its current incarnation includes some of the most important and active players on the adventurous Dutch scene. Like so many other creative musicians that call Amsterdam home, Mengelberg has a real love and understanding for jazz's rich history, but he's also a prankster who understands the value of confusion, an element he often introduces into the proceedings, like a punk shoving a stick into the spokes of a moving bicycle. The nine-member version of ICP that recorded Oh, My Dog! (ICP) advances the group's skill at blurring the line between composition and improvisation; they're both used in equal measure, by each member. All nine players are welcome to inject prewritten material in midstream, forcing a reaction from the others, who either go along with it, or shut it down. It's sometimes hard to determine that flow amid the glorious chaos-the music expands and collapses as nonchalantly as a pair of working lungs, which only enhances its woolly charm. There's a wonderful collage feel to "A Close Encounter With Charles's Country Band," a sly homage to Charles Ives written by reedist Ab Baars, with its jagged free improvisation stumbling into a drunken march as different instrument sections-the horns and the strings-shift alliances. Mengelberg's brief "A la Russe" has a chamber feel, with the clarinets of Baars and Michael Moore nicely playing counterpoint to the string section of bassist Ernst Glerum, cellist Tristan Honsinger and violinist Mary Oliver. The orchestra-rounded out by trombonist Wolter Wierbos and trumpeter Thomas Heberer-not only draws from a huge galaxy of sounds, but they do so with humor, silliness and style. true 128 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 13240 60 200208 true 0 70 2002-07-01T00:00:00-04:00

The ICP Orchestra encapsulates the singular absurdist aesthetic of experimental Dutch jazz. The group, once known as the Instant Composers Pool Orchestra, has existed in some form or another for nearly four decades, forever helmed by the marvelous pianist Misha Mengelberg and frequently joined by madcap drummer Han Bennink. Its current incarnation includes some of the most important and active players on the adventurous Dutch scene. Like so many other creative musicians that call Amsterdam home, Mengelberg has a real love and understanding for jazz's rich history, but he's also a prankster who understands the value of confusion, an element he often introduces into the proceedings, like a punk shoving a stick into the spokes of a moving bicycle. The nine-member version of ICP that recorded Oh, My Dog! (ICP) advances the group's skill at blurring the line between composition and improvisation; they're both used in equal measure, by each member. All nine players are welcome to inject prewritten material in midstream, forcing a reaction from the others, who either go along with it, or shut it down. It's sometimes hard to determine that flow amid the glorious chaos-the music expands and collapses as nonchalantly as a pair of working lungs, which only enhances its woolly charm. There's a wonderful collage feel to "A Close Encounter With Charles's Country Band," a sly homage to Charles Ives written by reedist Ab Baars, with its jagged free improvisation stumbling into a drunken march as different instrument sections-the horns and the strings-shift alliances. Mengelberg's brief "A la Russe" has...

2009-03-02T00:23:01-05:00

4 Trombonist Wolter Wierbos has been on a lot of recordings over the last few decades, but very few under his own name, and he rarely composes. Yet his personal stamp is so strong that no matter who's leading a session, he frequently becomes a de facto co-leader. That's certainly the case on Live at the Bimhuis (TryTone), a new trio recording led by the drummer Victor De Boo. The striking musical empathy displayed between Wierbos and electric guitarist Anton Goudsmit brings to mind the beguiling postbop flights of fancy George Lewis and Bill Frisell achieved in the News for Lulu project with John Zorn. De Boo penned the bulk of the tunes, most of them in a loose postbop bag, and they give the two melodists plenty to chew on; what they spit out is a breathless stream of ultrasensitive, contrapuntal melodic interplay. Once in a while the emphasis moves toward color and texture; here Goudsmit's pedal-heavy playing can sound like generic Berklee lessons, but Wierbos dazzles, extracting a dizzyingly broad array of tailgate slides, rumbling farts and upper-register cries that never scuttle his deep lyrical ability. true 128 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 13241 60 200208 true 0 70 2002-07-01T00:00:00-04:00

Trombonist Wolter Wierbos has been on a lot of recordings over the last few decades, but very few under his own name, and he rarely composes. Yet his personal stamp is so strong that no matter who's leading a session, he frequently becomes a de facto co-leader. That's certainly the case on Live at the Bimhuis (TryTone), a new trio recording led by the drummer Victor De Boo. The striking musical empathy displayed between Wierbos and electric guitarist Anton Goudsmit brings to mind the beguiling postbop flights of fancy George Lewis and Bill Frisell achieved in the News for Lulu project with John Zorn. De Boo penned the bulk of the tunes, most of them in a loose postbop bag, and they give the two melodists plenty to chew on; what they spit out is a breathless stream of ultrasensitive, contrapuntal melodic interplay. Once in a while the emphasis moves toward color and texture; here Goudsmit's pedal-heavy playing can sound like generic Berklee lessons, but Wierbos dazzles, extracting a dizzyingly broad array of tailgate slides, rumbling farts and upper-register cries that never scuttle his deep lyrical ability.

2009-03-02T00:23:01-05:00

4 Reedist Michael Moore, a California expat who's lived in Amsterdam since the mid-'80s, has been one of ICP Orchestra's most flexible participants. He displays another facet of his creative range in a trio recording called Jewels and Binoculars: The Music of Bob Dylan (Ramboy). Along with bassist Lindsey Horner and drummer Michael Vatcher, Moore interprets eleven songs either written by or associated with Bob Dylan. Dylan, of course, is not exactly known for indelible melodies; he's a master lyric writer, a syncretist and powerful interpreter of the most basic song forms, so Moore has challenged himself to take on such material instrumentally. In the liner notes Moore writes that the trio kept Dylan's imagery in mind as they improvised. I'm not sure how they did so, but they've certainly pulled the project off. With a lovely sense of calm and loads of space they trace the simple yet elegant melodies of tunes like "Visions of Johanna," "Fourth Time Around" and "With God on Our Side" with a delicate grace, wringing unexpected melodic richness and soft blushes of the blues from limited forms. It's a beautiful recording that offers a delightfully fresh perspective into Dylan's brilliance. true 128 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 13242 60 200208 true 0 70 2002-07-01T00:00:00-04:00

Reedist Michael Moore, a California expat who's lived in Amsterdam since the mid-'80s, has been one of ICP Orchestra's most flexible participants. He displays another facet of his creative range in a trio recording called Jewels and Binoculars: The Music of Bob Dylan (Ramboy). Along with bassist Lindsey Horner and drummer Michael Vatcher, Moore interprets eleven songs either written by or associated with Bob Dylan. Dylan, of course, is not exactly known for indelible melodies; he's a master lyric writer, a syncretist and powerful interpreter of the most basic song forms, so Moore has challenged himself to take on such material instrumentally. In the liner notes Moore writes that the trio kept Dylan's imagery in mind as they improvised. I'm not sure how they did so, but they've certainly pulled the project off. With a lovely sense of calm and loads of space they trace the simple yet elegant melodies of tunes like "Visions of Johanna," "Fourth Time Around" and "With God on Our Side" with a delicate grace, wringing unexpected melodic richness and soft blushes of the blues from limited forms. It's a beautiful recording that offers a delightfully fresh perspective into Dylan's brilliance.

2009-03-02T00:23:01-05:00

4 Reedist Michael Moore turns up in a crucial supporting role on Soft Nose (Bvhaast), the third album by cornetist Eric Boeren. As on his previous recordings, Boeren is in thrall of the music made by the classic Ornette Coleman Quartet, integrating five of his compositions here, and making strong stylistic connections with his pithy originals. But beyond the catchy melodies and the dazzling interplay, this band speaks its own language. At once telepathic and pleasingly loose, the communication between the horn frontline, drummer Han Bennink and bassist Wilbert de Joode allows the group to employ a playfulness redolent of the ICP; any individual can introduce material from the quartet's book in midstream, sometimes triggering the others to join in, sometimes overlaying a line from another tune for thrilling juxtapositions. Whatever path they take, the players are always in motion, jotting off terse counterpoint, commenting on a particular phrase or jostling for position. true 128 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 false 13243 60 200208 true 0 70 2002-07-01T00:00:00-04:00

Reedist Michael Moore turns up in a crucial supporting role on Soft Nose (Bvhaast), the third album by cornetist Eric Boeren. As on his previous recordings, Boeren is in thrall of the music made by the classic Ornette Coleman Quartet, integrating five of his compositions here, and making strong stylistic connections with his pithy originals. But beyond the catchy melodies and the dazzling interplay, this band speaks its own language. At once telepathic and pleasingly loose, the communication between the horn frontline, drummer Han Bennink and bassist Wilbert de Joode allows the group to employ a playfulness redolent of the ICP; any individual can introduce material from the quartet's book in midstream, sometimes triggering the others to join in, sometimes overlaying a line from another tune for thrilling juxtapositions. Whatever path they take, the players are always in motion, jotting off terse counterpoint, commenting on a particular phrase or jostling for position.

2009-03-02T00:23:01-05:00

4 The interactions between reedist Ab Baars and guitarist Terrie Ex on Hef (Atavistic) are considerably louder and more chaotic than your typical collection of duets. A charter member of the ICP, Baars commands a vast vocabulary on tenor saxophone and clarinet, ranging from John Carter-like cries on the latter to knotty, Archie Shepp-tinged phrasing on the former, but he's on new turf with the guitarist, a long-time member of mighty Dutch anarcho-punks the Ex. The guitarist may lack Baars' technical training, but he's got no shortage of imagination, molding an impressive plethora of ideas from slate-gray guitar tones. Whether it's truncated chords, ear-piercing string scrapes or percussive patter, Terrie sees his instrument as a remarkably flexible sound generator, with great sensitivity. On the 14 texture- and color-based dialogues he and Baars stumble upon a beguiling and rigorous style of communication that ranges from assaultive ("Oud Over") to almost meditative ("Pets->Knerp"); it forces each participant to struggle with a relatively foreign musical milieu. They succeed brilliantly, with no apologies for occasional brashness. true 128 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 13244 60 200208 true 0 70 2002-07-01T00:00:00-04:00

The interactions between reedist Ab Baars and guitarist Terrie Ex on Hef (Atavistic) are considerably louder and more chaotic than your typical collection of duets. A charter member of the ICP, Baars commands a vast vocabulary on tenor saxophone and clarinet, ranging from John Carter-like cries on the latter to knotty, Archie Shepp-tinged phrasing on the former, but he's on new turf with the guitarist, a long-time member of mighty Dutch anarcho-punks the Ex. The guitarist may lack Baars' technical training, but he's got no shortage of imagination, molding an impressive plethora of ideas from slate-gray guitar tones. Whether it's truncated chords, ear-piercing string scrapes or percussive patter, Terrie sees his instrument as a remarkably flexible sound generator, with great sensitivity. On the 14 texture- and color-based dialogues he and Baars stumble upon a beguiling and rigorous style of communication that ranges from assaultive ("Oud Over") to almost meditative ("Pets->Knerp"); it forces each participant to struggle with a relatively foreign musical milieu. They succeed brilliantly, with no apologies for occasional brashness.

2009-03-02T00:23:01-05:00

4 On his third album Pelikanismus (ICP) the brawny tenor saxophonist Tobias Delius proceeds from the edge of his seat. Over the last few years he's developed a telepathic rapport with his excellent quartet-bassist Joe Williamson and more of those damned ICPers, drummer Han Bennink and cellist Tristan Honsinger-which allows them to intuit musical choices like most people breathe air. The group employs its fondness for medleys only once here-where despite having a song order sketched out in advance, the players are free to spontaneously shuffle its various components-but even when the quartet sticks to a single tune there's so much freewheeling interplay, independence and erasing of foreground and background that the performance contains the breadth of information you'd expect in a medley. Delius, Honsinger and Williamson frequently form a section, braiding disparate timbres to sound of a gorgeous piece. Although Delius acquits himself nicely on the clarinet here, he truly shines on his main instrument, recalling the breathy sensuality of Ben Webster, the agile gravity of Sonny Rollins and the pinched phrasing of Archie Shepp. Pelikanismus is a knockout display of the joys of freedom. true 128 2007-06-07T14:05:44-04:00 13245 60 200208 true 0 70 2002-07-01T00:00:00-04:00

On his third album Pelikanismus (ICP) the brawny tenor saxophonist Tobias Delius proceeds from the edge of his seat. Over the last few years he's developed a telepathic rapport with his excellent quartet-bassist Joe Williamson and more of those damned ICPers, drummer Han Bennink and cellist Tristan Honsinger-which allows them to intuit musical choices like most people breathe air. The group employs its fondness for medleys only once here-where despite having a song order sketched out in advance, the players are free to spontaneously shuffle its various components-but even when the quartet sticks to a single tune there's so much freewheeling interplay, independence and erasing of foreground and background that the performance contains the breadth of information you'd expect in a medley. Delius, Honsinger and Williamson frequently form a section, braiding disparate timbres to sound of a gorgeous piece. Although Delius acquits himself nicely on the clarinet here, he truly shines on his main instrument, recalling the breathy sensuality of Ben Webster, the agile gravity of Sonny Rollins and the pinched phrasing of Archie Shepp. Pelikanismus is a knockout display of the joys of freedom.

2009-03-02T00:23:01-05:00