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Steve Swell and Perry
Robinson light a quiet fire on their first recording as a duo.
Much of what they do is introspective and, in the atmosphere they
create, their voices are at once the foil and the embrace. Even as
they sing in tandem, they free themselves to probe and converse.
They build the layers gradually, the first prove being entwined by the
next, a fusillade being answered by a straight line, the tension
elevated by degrees.
Robinson
and Swell know how to keep the dynamics flowing. They slip, slide
and cast, and in the process build a new edifice of sound, taking
it to a different plateau on each outing. They can dip into an
almost placid sea, the ruffle almost imperceptible before they begin to
stir the waters. And then they can go and sing in exultation as on
the jaunty and noticeably melodic "Children's Song", quite the departure
for them. But it is not a one-time resolution. "Patterns
Will Be Revealed Outside the Sheds" gives its due to Dixieland and shows
a great deal of gusto. They are nice surprises indeed, and the
spirit of adventure is manifest throughout. Could it be otherwise? |
Coda
Jerry D'Sousa |
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Invisible Cities sets trombonist Steve Swell and clarinetist Perry
Robinson tilting at each other in mostly free duets. The
individual pieces, whose titles come from Italo Calvino's "Invisible
Cities" are garrulous instrumental conversations that range from
conventional jazz playing to buzzing ambient noise. As in all
successful collaborations of this sort, the tow men really listen to one
another and make their individual voices blend well. A lot of it
is abstract but sometimes recognizable shapes emerge. Robinson's
composition "Children's Song" is a march that echoes both Anthony
Braxton and "Peter and the Wolf." "Mingled Relationships" gets
into some nice low bluesy lines and "Abolished Victims" is a pretty
showcase for the two players' lyrical sides. The closing "Patterns
Will Be Revealed" actually has the two playing Dixieland. OF
course they play two different melodies completely out of sync, so it
isn't the kind of thing that would wow a crowd on Bourbon Street, but
their brainy wit still makes an invigorating mix. This is the
sound of two iconoclastic musicians having a ball. |
Cadence
Jerome Wilson |
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Unusual in terms of its sparse
instrumentation, this recording encompasses mostly freely improvised duos
between two masters of the genre, trombonist Steve Swell and clarinetist
Perry Robinson. Except for Robinson’s catchy “Children’s Song,” each piece
is named from a line from Italian writer Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities,
the titles of which when read together create a new poem. Although there is
no obvious direct connection, the association with Calvino’s novel is
appropriate in an abstract sense, as the music and the book loosely share a
mysterious, ephemeral, and deceptively simple quality where things are not
quite the way they first appear.
Both
musicians enjoy distorting and extending the timbres of their instruments,
with the trombonist growling, fluttering, and twisting tones, while his
colleague follows non-traditional paths on the clarinet, coaxing, slurring,
and over-blowing, all performed with a studied focus. This is a rare
opportunity to hear both of these extraordinary performers in duo, in many
ways a much more difficult challenge than in a larger group, as there is no
chordal underpinning from the bass, nor rhythmic pulse from the drums, and,
except for “Children’s Song,” not even a hint at a melody. Often the results
are exciting, invigorating, and even surprising, but it can be difficult,
even wearying, to listen to it all at one sitting, the short composed
“Children’s Song” being a clear exception.
Those who have never heard Swell are likely
to be dazzled by his technical ability: His skills are at a peak, as he
incorporates some of the innovations of Roswell Rudd and George Lewis and
stamps them with his own personality. Few trombonists can master the vibrato
of the latter with the rough and tumble of the former the way Swell does,
while Robinson does not yield an inch. Fans of both Swell and Robinson will
be pleased, and newcomers are likely to raise an eyebrow or two. While it is
impossible to know whether the late Calvino might have enjoyed it, there are
enough twists to make it compelling, if not demanding listening, though
familiarity with the author’s work does not enhance the listening
experience. The music stands on its own in its subtleties and crooked paths,
and it is well worth hearing although it is definitely not a critical
recording in the discographies of either Swell or Robinson.
Excellent (3
1/2 stars) |
All Music Guide Steven
Loewy |
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Invisible Cities, la città invisibili,
villes invisibles, autant de déclinaisons pour une réalité plurielle.
Les nombreuses pérégrinations nous guident vers des contrées aux visages
changeants, aux cultures multiples et aux etres uniques.
Les villes ne s'épuisent pas; chaque pas
nous offre une vision différente. Elles se démultiplient à
l'infini et pourtant elles pourraient n'en faire qu'une. Cette
ville unique se dessinerait au-delà du premier regard lorsque, loin des
chemins trop faciles d'accés qui se montrent comme la seule évidence
possible et envisageable, nous glissons vers ces endroits non conformes
exclus des espaces balises, delimites ou definis. L'invisible,
l'inmontrable reprend alors sa valeur et sa force expressive.
Les réflexions de l'écrivain Italo Calvino
sur les villes invisibles, sources d'inspiration pour ce duo muical,
nous poussent à des introspections dévoilant une réalité que nous
préfererions occulter.
"L'ailleurs est un miroir en négatif.
Le voyageur y reconnaît le peu qui lui apparient, et découvre tout ce
qu'il n'a pas, et n'aura pas", fort de cela, l'individu existe
differemment. Le passé, le présent et le futur semblent peu à peu
laisser place à une atemporalite essentielle et propice aux explorations
sonores les plus exigeantes.
Le tromboniste Steve Swell et le
clarinettiste Perry Robionson nous livrent une musique libre et
parviennent à créer une ouvre spontanée, affranchie des repères rigides
et, finalement, hors du temps. |
JazzoSphere
Sabine
Moig |
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With Invisible Cities, trombonist
Steve Swell and clarinetist Perry Robinson have created a unique
snapshot of duo improvisation that, as much as it sounds like a Saturday
afternoon loft rehearsal when the rhythm section was too busy, is a
compelling document of the affinity between improvisers.
Robinson, of course, is the veteran of the
two, having recorded his first LP, Funk Dumpling, with Henry Grimes for
Savoy over 40 years ago as well as working with Gunter Hampel, Archie
Shepp, Roswell Rudd, and numerous others. Swell's, in a span half
as long as Robinson's, has solidified a place as the contemporary
creative trombonist of choice, working regularly in the brass chair with
Lou Grassi, William Parker, and Dominic Duval. Swell and Robinson
complement one another perfectly, like Rosewell Rudd and Steve Lacy --
Swell the punchy gutbucket with astounding technical facility, Robinson
occupying a uniquely technical subtle sound world of bent notes ('is
that a duck call?!?') and austere cadences. For rather than
extending the Giuffre school of clarinet, Robinson occupies the midway
between two Rudd foils: Giuseppi Logan and John Tchicai, embodying both
a penchant for viciously dissociative runs and a witty, cool swing.
One doesn't often have the opportunity to hear such unadulterated Perry
Robinson, so this is a case of a real treat. The lengthy "Rumor
Exists Under Abolished Victims" presents a series of unaccompanied
passages over its eight minutes, punctuated by brief snippets of melodic
dialogue. The dialogues themselves are not entirely made up of
free jazz-cum-Dixieland collective improvisation, but rather the gamut
from languid tonal explorations (Robinson's clarinet mimicking a toy
recorder, a harmonica and trombone on "Shallow Facades...") to singsong
romps ("Children's Song"). In these dialogues, Swell occupies a
unique place in that, like Rudd and Bob Brookmeyer before him, he is
able to provide both melodic and rhythmic support to an ensemble
otherwise devoid of a rhythm section -- he is able to provide the
antics-filled conversation with a sense of purpose that it might
otherwise not have. |
All About Jazz New York
Clifford
Allen |
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