By Martin Schray
The trio of Achim Kaufmann (piano), Frank Gratkowski (clarinet, saxophone, flute) and Wilbert de Joode (bass) has been around for more than 20 years, but I have to admit that I first noticed them in 2014 in their expanded line-up under the moniker Skein - with Tony Buck on drums, Richard Barrett on electronics and Okkyung Lee on cello. This happened with a fulminance that was second to none. Inexplicably, the band disappeared from my radar just as quickly as they had appeared, even though there are other recordings of them in different line-ups. Just as accidentally as I discovered Skein nine years ago, I now stumbled across the core of the band, the original trio. Canberra is their sixth album, recorded on their tour of Singapore, Malaysia and Australia, made possible by the German Goethe-Institut.
The fascination that I felt the first time I heard Skein was immediately there again on this recording. Canberra is a musical puzzle, the trio constantly lures you onto the wrong track and just when you think you are on the trail to the core of the music, you only realize that it has taken another turn. A common denominator of the four pieces is the hardness of Kaufmann’s piano touch, the power of De Joode’s bass and Gratkowski’s unforeseen changes of instruments. The reedists’ notes shoot through the room like a swarm of bumblebees gone mad, at lightning speed, then elegant and relaxed again, while De Joode’s plucked bass seems to drip like fat drops of water from the ceiling of a stalactite cave. Especially in the opener “Now and Here, Burning“, only Kaufmann’s rigor holds the busy bustle of the two together. Structurally, the trio floats back and forth between sound exploration, free jazz and chamber music approaches. Often they try to come together from different angles. In “Windows Alive“, the saxophone hisses and smacks, Gratkowski pushes the limits of the available tones. De Joode uses the entire body of the bass to produce sound. It seems to be a big mess, yet the piece doesn’t fall apart, even though it groans, moans and sighs. It goes on like this for four minutes before an almost inconspicuous melody line on the saxophone brings the instruments closer together and they seem to drift off into familiar territory in free jazz-like expressivity. The fact that this doesn’t happen is again thanks to Kaufmann, who works the inside of his piano and thus provides the ultimately decisive friction to keep the ship on course. On “Coral in the Blast“, the musicians once again let the listener wander through a musical maze. The harshness of the sounds is still there, but a certain beauty is no longer wiped away; they almost seem to welcome it and look forward to integrating it. So the piece swells up and down, mainly because Kaufmann and De Joode push it to do so. Yet, Gratkowski’s saxophone floats above it with great ease.
The music on Canberra is completely improvised, it’s created in the moment. Silence, dynamics, the juxtaposition of textures, the use of tonal elements and the energy of jazz - it’s the juxtaposition that makes the music so fascinating. This project - whether it’s the trio or its extensions - will not disappear from my radar again.
Canberra is available on vinyl and as a download.
You can order and listen to it here:
Canberra by Kaufmann / Gratkowski / de Joode