|
Recent Additions
Budget Components Audacious Audio J. Gordon Holt
Loudspeakers
Amplification
Digital Sources
Analog Sources
Accessories Listening / Art Dudley The Fifth Element / John Marks Music in the Round / Kal Rubinson Fine Tunes / Jonathan Scull Special Features Reference Interviews Think Pieces Historical Recording of the Month Records 2 Die 4 Music/Recordings Stephen Mejias Robert Baird Fred Kaplan Wes Phillips Audio News Past eNewsletters RMAF 2009 SSI 2009 CES 2009 RMAF 2008 FSI 2008 CES 2008 RMAF 2007 CEDIA 2007 HE 2007 FSI 2007 CES 2007 China 2006 RMAF 2006 HFN 2006 CEDIA 2006 HE 2006 FSI 2006 CES 2006 Forums Galleries Vote Previous Votes AV Links Audiophile Societies Contact Us Customer Service New Subscription Digital Subscription Renew Give a Gift Sub Services Recordings Backissues More . . . Phono Preamp Hi-Fi Phono Cartridge Amplifiers Stereo Speakers |
John Surman's Brewster's Rooster
John Surman, a saxophonist of jazz, folk, church, and avant-garde influences, has been a longtime denizen in the ECM stable without gaining much renown. When he recently played at a New York club, leading a rhythm section of guitarist John Abercrombie, bassist Drew Gress, and drummer Jack DeJohnette, he acknowledged to the crowd that he was the only player who needed introducing. The same band plays on Surman’s latest CD, Brewster’s Rooster, and it’s the ensemble mix that makes it such a diverting pleasure. On the album’s best tracks, including the opener, “Slanted Sky,” Surman (on soprano sax) and Abercrombie exchange an engaging melody of such wispy moodiness, it almost borders on New Age, except that Gress takes sharp corners in his bass walks, highlighting the slight strands of dissonance while anchoring the beat, and DeJohnette propels things forward with African rhythms in double or triple time. The contrasts fly out at crisscrossing angles, yet they’re gripped and contained by some force of gravity, which stems entirely (and somewhat mysteriously) by the musicians’ mastery at interplay. The only weak tracks are those two or three (out of nine) where Surman plunges into the fray, rather than tracing orbits around it; they’re not bad, just routine. The sound, by Joe Ferla, one of the great jazz recording engineers, is exquisite and palpable. < Previous Post | Blog Home | Next Post >
No comments have been added to this entry.
Add Comment |


