All sorts of jazz, free jazz and improv. Never for money, always for love.
Free improvisation has long been an endeavour where traditional roles ascribed to instruments are routinely subverted and often completely abandoned. A saxophone, for instance, isn't simply a vehicle by which structures such as melody and harmony may be realized. It more significantly becomes a birthing vessel for found sounds borne out of breath manipulations and tonal deconstruction. Commonly known under the inclusive rubric of 'extended techniques,' these exploratory proclivities can lead to quickly discernable rewards or, just as often, discouraging brick walls.
Their moniker may run contrary to the true parameters of their instrumentation,
but The Electrics still pack a wallop of improvisatory am page through the
conductive congruence of their four fertile minds. Individual demonstrations
of extended techniques are mustered into service during their interplay,
but an effective ensemble mindset effectively derails individual egos.
Saxophonist Sture Ericson admits in his accompanying notes that the quartet
was averse to rehearsals from the start. Their 'hit it and play' credo creates
startling sections of spontaneous interaction, but it also begs the question
of how would the group sound different had they incorporated a modicum of
premeditation into their music. Fortunately what's on hand diminishes the
need for this kind of conjecture, as the four rely on dynamic shifts and
an almost obsessive attention to detail. Sections of near silence vie with
passages of boisterous effusion and the boundaries between free jazz and
free improvisation become blurred to the point of opacity.
The phonetically similar nature of the track titles points to the quartet's
decision to return to past signposts on their journey, albeit in different
guises. Chance and accident intervene only as far as the players' extemporaneous
interplay; otherwise it's an enterprise of close listening and on-the-fly
invention.
Axel Dörner and Ericson blend in a particularly sensitive front line
on the opening title piece. The former initially eschews his more abstract
inklings for chattering streams of smeared notes striated by legato lines.
Eventually his tone devolves into moist sputtering against a prickly pizzicato
backdrop from Ingebrigt Håker Flaten. Ericson resorts to reed pops
and flutterings to further explicate the illusion of gossiping beasts converging
at some dank watering hole.
Later pieces chart a similar trajectory in a balance between the linear
and the amorphous with "Change of Accidents" being perhaps the
most fully realized marriage of the two, as Ericson's whirring bass clarinet
matches wits with Flaten's febrile strings excited by hummingbird fingers.
Listeners with ears tuned in to either variety of improvisatory approach will find plenty to adjust their ears to in this approximate hour of music.
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