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'Naked Mirror' is the debut solo disc of
gifted pianist John Blum, and a very impressive one. Blum has an impressive resume as a
student of Bill Dixon, Milford Graves, Borah Bergman and Cecil Taylor, and as a pianist in
some of the most adventurous orchestras and ensembles of our times, including those led by
Dixon, Taylor and William Parker. He has played with Han Bennink, Marco Eneidi, Mat
Maneri, Sabir Mateen, Jemeel Moondoc, Cooper-Moore, Susie Ibarra and Parker.
On this new release from a 1999 session, Blum comes off as a deep thinker,
always searching and exploring his compositions, sometimes seeming to be possessed by his
rich textures but keeping a coherent flow over the eight pieces. Don't expect light
moments in this dense, 40-minute disc. Blum is a musician who aims at the very personal,
the most intense spheres, always developing and honing his original voice. The title is
not a reference to the Zen patriarch Hui-neng's well-known poem about the empty mirror,
but to a very sad poem by Blum's friend Jeremy Green, who died ten years ago at the age of
25.
This disc will hopefully lead to more releases from
this very interesting pianist, with luck in a context that will involve some of the great
musicians with whom Blum has played. |
The Squid's Ear
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John Blum, a pianist who studied at
college with Bill Dixon, played regularly in Marco Eneidi's quartet. Later, he took
lessons from Borah Bergman and Cecil Taylor. Naked Mirror is his solo debut, and is
dedicated to the memory of his friend, the poet Jeremy Green. This is a moving recording,
full of passion, which pushes Blum's really admirable technique to another level and
captures the attention of the listener. To remove all doubt, the liner notes emphasize
that the recording is "unaided" by technical means--that is, there are no
overdubbed tracks or other technical tricks. This American pianist has a notable
sense of form in these pieces, using everything he's learned in his extraordinary ability
to synthesize. Has free piano-playing found a new poet? |
AAJ-Italy
Vittorio
Lo Conte
(Translated
from Italian)
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The solo piano music of John Blum on his
debut CD, Naked Mirror, is turbulent and accomplished, quickly establishing a distinctive
voice on the instrument. Check out the exhilarating "Rain Dark Rain" for a
masterful display of technical command in an almost eleven minute onrush of inspired
improvisation. This is a must-hear release for fans of modern avant-garde piano. |
IAJRC
Journal
Summer 2002
Stuart Kremsky |
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Without the support of a bass to build
upon, a solo jazz pianist has to decide what that left hand is going to do: attempt to
retain both bass line and mid-register harmonic accompaniment (by falling back into
variants of time-honoured accompanimental procedures like stride and boogie woogie), or do
without one or the other, or both by actively engaging both hands in patterns and lines
and dispensing with the old melody/accompaniment way of thinking. (Or do a Borah Bergman
and rethink the left hand altogether.) New York born John Blum approaches the problem from
every angle; his fondness for extreme low register chords brings Matthew Shipp to mind,
the demented comping of "Rain Dark Rain" reminds me of mid-70s Don Pullen, and
those rapid flurries of notes inevitably recall Cecil Taylor (whom Blum knows and has
worked with).
In addition to
being familiar with the work of generations of jazz musicians, through his studies with
Bill Dixon and Milford Graves, Blum's pianism owes much to the expressionism of the early
twentieth century repertoire: "Ethereal Plane" is as concise and motivically
intense as late Skryabin, while "Heart Tumor" has something of the lyrical sweep
of Alban Berg. Unfortunately, like late Skryabin, the music can become bogged down in its
own rhetoric; tracks like "Consternation" serve to remind us that there's a fine
line between the grandiose and the pompous, between gesture and mannerism.
Perhaps, though, this is an intentional reflection of
the emotional turmoil underlying the entire album - Thierry Trombert's grainy black and
white shot of the pianist makes him look pensive, even slightly harried, which is
understandable once we open the booklet and learn that all eight track titles are taken
from the poem "Naked Mirror" by Jeremy Green, a friend of Blum's who died in
1993 aged 25. If you can handle a bit of angst, "Naked Mirror" is an impressive
solo debut. For myself, I look forward to hearing this fine pianist in an ensemble context
(and a less boxy recording) with playing partners such as William Parker, Jemeel Moondoc
and Randy Peterson. |
Signal to Noise
Fall 2002
and
Paris Transatlantic
Dan Warburton |
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He was taught by Cecil Taylor and plays
with Jemeel Moondoc - John Blum is visceral at the keys, with a classicist's touch and an
avant-gardist's fury. Made as a memorial to his friend, the poet Jeremy Green, this album
is a cask of emotion, poured out in fervent doses. "Ethereal Plane" is drenched
in echo; as the left hand dives low, the right hits delicate, discordant phrases. Like the
classical works of the 1910s, this turmoil is ordered, respecting the academic traditions
as the piece surmounts them.
Many
things happen in "Rain Dark Rain" - forceful Nancarrow segments, boogie-woogie
parodies, Tayloresque anarchy - the styles are fleeting, quickly replaced by the next. The
sound becomes dense at the end, as if Blum has four hands - hard to believe this was taped
"pure", without dubs or other trickery. "Heart Tumor" seems like a
dancing exercise: the right hand spins frantically, and the left follows suit a few
seconds later. It's followed by an uncertain calm, and the storm returns - the heart
cannot be easily gauged. And "Consternation", with its breakneck tempo and
dog-chases-tail melody, is a perfect match for it title. Structured yet raw, this album
blends anger and grief in strong, succinct fashion.
The disc is completed by a series of short pieces,
each telling a story. A city breathes on "Glowing, Pulsing" - rude rhythms,
endless activity, and a sound like honking horns. This is followed by "Dismal
Cry", where sharps bursts are surrounded by brittle silence. (By this time, the
Taylor phrases are a bit too familiar; more variety would be wonderful.) The low keys
rumble on "Silence Trickle", and "Naked Mirror" is a clock, where the
left hand strikes firmly, and with finality. John Blum has spoken well; this music has
meaning, and its power runs deep. |
Jazz USA
John Barrett |
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Although the solo piano outing of John
Blum is rich in textural substance, there is a certain element of foreboding to it. The
program is devoid of gaiety and lightness, and in its place are the statements of a
serious artist attempting to express his weighty thought process through his exploratory
execution. Blum appears to be a deep thinker who seeps into the depths of his compositions
to interrogate them, analyze them, dissect them, and reexamine them for all the
possibilities available to him. He is a highly resonant improviser who swarms over the
keyboard producing music abundantly endowed in fullness. Blum saturates the soundstage
with an array of impassioned phrases using the entire range of the instrument. His left
hand establishes the dark tenor with massive pronouncements, and his right soars
fleetingly in the higher register to balance the equation.
As one would expect, the entire session is comprised of his original
compositions. They flow in natural order as a continuous solidifying wave, allowing Blum
to become increasingly emphatic with each succeeding piece. His touch is very percussive,
resulting in his music ringing out as a thunderous avalanche of tumultuous proportions.
The pace is often taken at breakneck speed, which defines the pianist as an aggressive
attacker rather than an introspective prober. Blum conveys the concepts of honesty and
integrity in his playing. He states his feelings without reservation, and the heavy music
mirrors his mental frame of mind. Blum reveals his inner being through his art, and the
listening experience becomes very personal. He throws down the gauntlet, and the astute
observer is the richer for accepting the challenge. |
One Final Note,
Issue #10 Frank Rubolino |
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This is a DRIMALA RECORDS release,
featuring John's solo piano works. am highly impressed! This isn't just
"crash/burn" playing, either... Blum is fully "trained", which (to me)
makes his often mad-dash (all up & down the keyboards) improvisational composition
even more amazing! There are a couple of more "laid back" &
"introspective" pieces, too... track 7, "Silence Trickle", stands out
for this, as does the title track (cut 8). Every song on this album is a winner.
Highly energetic & creative, Blum is an artist with nowhere to go but
UP... he gets a MOST HIGHLY RECOMMENDED from us! If you enjoy piano with a dash of
creative madness, GET this one! |
Improvijazzation
Nation,
Issue #54
Dick Metcalf |
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New York pianist/composer John Blum has
been on the music seen for over ten years. His list of credentials is quite extensive
having worked with such notables such as William Parker, Cecil Taylor, and Jackson Krall.
He is well known within the circles of "free jazz" artists.
The term for the idiom free jazz should require some definition. In a
loose quote from (Avant-Garde Jazz Musicians): "Free" or "free-form
jazz", for instance, suggests that few guidelines are established in the music to
instruct the musicians in what they will play during a performance". Boundaries may
be blurred in reference to established forms such as melody, harmony, and rhythm.
John Blum's solo recording is a self-expressed work of
art, where the musical borders do not exist. The piano solos are free flowing and traverse
in directions and tempos that are unpredictable. The mood and tone of the recording is
immensely dark. Complex chord and solo patterns reveal Blum's talent and extensive
knowledge of various forms and techniques, but beware: This is not music for the faint of
heart. |
All About Jazz
Mark Turner |
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Having studied under both Cecil Taylor
and Borah Bergman, one might imagine John Blum's music to be fearsomely complex, but at
its heart there is something just as soft and romantic as in the foregoing music. Although
there are bristling moments, Blum has none of Taylor's Monkish rhythmic weirdness, and
prefers a broad rubato which permeates even his most intense passages.
Although tending towards the expansive in individual phrases, only two
of the tracks here are long, the others, like those discussed above, mid-length and so
more easily digestible than the hour-long dissections which are common in the genre.
Blum's are, however, the most unstructured of the pieces discussed here; they work by
moving in a line from beginning to end, and although thematic material is always the
starting-point he is more comfortable with abandoning it and moving along in directions
suggested moment-by-moment.
Suffice it to say that these are thoughtful,
technically flash performances in which Blum allows his imagination to run riot, creating
colourful if sometimes episodic music. He does not sound entirely mature, but is a serious
player with a foot in the classical tradition and his eyes firmly on jazz. |
Musings
Richard
Cochrane |
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