A Closer Listen
Whether we long for far-flung places or to revisit a remembered location, music has the power to transport us. Two recent releases have one foot in jazz but step off into different terrains. The second album combines sounds from across Africa and the African diaspora. The first is even more of a wanderlusting mishmash, uprooted from any single point of origin.
Kalaha are a Danish quartet with a steady stream of releases under the belts from across the past decade. Their sound might be called a jazz–funk–rock fusion, but this wouldn’t do justice to their globetrotting hodgepodge of influences and ideas. Synth textures, desert blues expeditions, and electric organ tones can be found – and that’s just the opening track. Blue-sky synthpop evolves into unabashed funk. Slow-burn jazz guitar launches into quiet orbit against starry psychedelia. This is a melting pot whose ingredients are carefully measured and taste-tested, with great results from unusual combinations.
Among the unexpected elements are cinematic Wild West melodies and nods to a range of electronic styles. On the title track, psychedelic space-jazz meets A Fistful of Dollars via dubbed-out downtempo. On another standout track, “Nordiske Fjer”, languid guitar sits against dreamy backdrop. The mournful strings are relieved by a theremin melody that whistles us into the sunset on horseback. On both tracks, guitar and synth take turns in the melodic limelight, circulating on the stage as the kaleidoscopic rotation continues. At other moments, it is the mix of slow and fast tempos which pulls us into enjoyable contradiction. “Havne-Frode” blends understated jazz-rock into a pumping dance beat. The two complement each other like opposing sides of the colour wheel.
Within the melodic smorgasbord of country-blues, echoey synthesis, flamboyant space-rock, and lounging jazz-funk, we could overlook the equally important diversity of rhythm. “Tunnelfabrik” relies on infectious percussion to accelerate its redshift expansion of sound. The drums of a familiar jazz kit are supplemented by more exotic rhythmic touches. Meanwhile, “Bjergmokka” gives the album a bold finale of spacey psych-rock. Where we might expect the fuzzy imprecision to kick in, Kalaha give us the clarity of a dancefloor come-up. But the lasting impression of Nordhavn is more subdued. It revels in its most relaxed moments, with injections of energy coming from sheer sonic variety. Though we only get the whistlestop tour, there is nothing inauthentic about Kalaha’s explorations of sound. Their joy in musical adventure is the genuine article.
Randal Fisher and Dexter Story name their album after Millettia laurentii, an endangered Central African tree prized for its hardwood timber. The name, Wenge, signals the craft of traditional instruments from this wood, including some featured in the music. Story plays a variety of instruments including a West African xylophone (the balafon) and stringed instrument (the ngoni), as well as Afro-Latin and East African percussion. Vibes and synths are also among the tools in his inventory. Meanwhile, Fisher plays flutes, clarinets, saxophones, and an ocarina. The duo excel in matching laid-back jazz with organic, resonant tones. The familiar drumkit of jazz barely figures. Rhythms come from other combinations of wood and skin, including the clapping of hands. Fisher’s melodic work is given airy space to relax and develop. On the longest track, “Igi”, two woodwind voices trade notes and responses across deeper and higher ranges of sound. The unassuming rapid-fire of the balafon diplomatically chairs the proceedings.
The longer tracks leave room for soaring excursions of the spirit (“Flight of the Amaranth”) and ritual passages from the mournful to the exultant (“Wenge”). However, the five shortest tracks – each under two minutes – are equally rewarding. These pieces foreground solo reed and breath (“Baki”), irresistible percussion (“Harvest”), and the unusual timbre of the ngoni (“The Griot”). They may be short vignettes, but they gel together the album, as it stakes its larger claim for the prospects of traditional African instrumentation in contemporary jazz. The record as a whole gives us a tantalising glimpse over the threshold of various interconnecting doorways.
The artists note that wengè offers “an apt metaphor for resiliency, stability, durability, and the sonic resonance we bring”. But the motif of a tree also suggests rootedness: a sense of belonging and growth; of taking time to grow within a territory. In part, the album lives up to this. Although it adopts instruments across a range of cultural traditions, it seems to do so in the pan-African spirit of a shared ancestral heritage. Nonetheless, tracks like “Urujuani”, with its unexpected appearance of electric bass and synthesiser, show that Fisher and Story are no purists. They are unafraid to mix traditions as they craft their gorgeously evocative palette. (Samuel Rogers)
Mon Apr 15 00:01:00 GMT 2024