Matthew Halsall - An Ever Changing View

A Closer Listen

As the title and cover art suggest, Matthew Halsall’s ninth album celebrates a subtle change in approach to his music. In contrast to much of his earlier work, he didn’t write this album in his studio in Manchester but in a couple of locations by the coast. It’s easy to imagine the immediate impact this would have – he would have woken up and looked out at a vast, open panorama of sea and sky. It’s a scene that brings a sense of calm (at least it does for this writer) but also wonder at the sheer scale of the view. It’s not something you can experience in an urban setting; it’s hard to see the distant horizon when there are houses and office buildings as far as you can look.

In addition to looking out at a new view, Halsall afforded himself time to look back to the genesis of his music; the local influences that set him on the path towards An Ever Changing View. The early records of The Cinematic Orchestra and Bonobo, and particularly the eclectic DJing of Manchester’s own Mr. Scruff, demonstrated ways that jazz music could fit seamlessly with other contemporary sounds. The results of returning to these influences are most apparent in the lead single, “Water Street,” which beefs up the percussion and leads with Matt Cliffe’s flute. It’s less obviously jazz, and sounds closer to the work of A Man Called Adam; it’s maybe a DJ edit away from soundtracking the sunset in Ibiza.

The increased percussion causes the most noticeable shift in sound on An Ever Changing View, along with the introduction of field recordings. It’s not just the congas that give the compositions an added sense of propulsion, but Halsall dips into his box of goodies and adds multiple layers of shifting, shimmering chimes and bells. There’s a sense of playfulness to these extra sounds on the record, a feeling amplified with the kalimba that underpins many of the tracks. “Calder Shapes”, for example, has a rolling, swaying movement stemming from the kalimba and carried through Gavin Barras’s bass-playing. It is easy to imagine that it was composed while Halsall watched the waves lazily roll in, one bright morning.

It isn’t just the coastline that provides inspiration here – the album opens with recordings of birdsong to supply that sense of being in a pastoral idyll on a summer’s day; it is almost as if we stumble upon a group of musicians warming up before launching into Halsall’s compositions. There are also a couple of brief interludes, which are a first on a Matthew Halsall album; there’s a return to the sound of nature on “Field Of Vision” and an impressionistic piece of percussion and piano that leads us into the closing sequence – the lively “Natural Movement” and the more meditative “Triangles In The Sky”, a showcase for Chip Wickham on flute, Alice Roberts’ harp and the busy drum-work of Alan Taylor.

There’s a sense that in looking back to his gateway into jazz, Matthew Halsall has decided to make an album that will satisfy existing fans but also appeal to those less familiar with jazz. By trimming down some of the tropes of the genre with more concise pieces, less flashy soloing, and an overall sunnier, natural feel, he has succeeded. It’s easy to imagine tracks from An Ever Changing View fitting in a DJ set, whether in Manchester or Majorca. We hope that people will hear them and think, ‘oh – this is jazz?’ and then head off to explore further. This beautifully arranged and played record is an excellent starting point. (Jeremy Bye)

The Guardian 0

(Gondwana)
The Manchester trumpeter’s ninth album mixes ambient percussion and yearning melodies in enticing if familiar fashion