Sinonó - La espalda y su punto radiante

 

By William Rossi

The music of trio sinonó can be approached by very different people from very different angles: be it fans of sound exploration, fans of traditional jazz songs or people looking for a deep emotional connection, everyone can find something to sink their teeth into on this release. Bassist Henry Fraser and cellist Lester St. Louis (who appears to be a staple in my reviews lately) weave a wonderful tapestry of sounds for singer and composer Isabel Crespo Pardo's vocals to float over, creating an album of intimate and sincere pieces of unique jazz-chamber music of sorts, with lots of incredible moments that will stick with me for a long time.

The music is austere and solemn and the restricted instrumentation could, in less capable hands, be one-note or obtuse but let me assure you that the players manage to keep things fresh and interesting throughout the eight pieces, always conjuring new sounds out of their instruments. Tracks like Ofrendas I or Entre paredes imaginarias showcase the quieter and more meditative textural work from the double bass and cello, with their birdsong harmonics and synth-like low rumble creating the perfect atmosphere for the vocals to shine, while tracks like Qué estará pensando up the energy and capture the ear with percussive cello arpeggios and rhythmic bass thumping that don't make you miss the presence of a drummer.

The virtually infinite sounds the players manage to create aren't a mere way for them to show off mastery over their respective instruments, though, and they always serve the mood of the pieces and complement Crespo Pardo's vocals, which range from hushed and abstract to commanding and strained, and lyrics beautifully. From the deep ocean of improvisation and experimentation sometimes more traditional "songs" bubble up, like the aforementioned Qué estará pensando, with its lustful fragility or Gravedad, basking in the light of a gorgeous bass melody and energetic vocal acrobatics, but they quickly melt back into the ocean from which they arose, the musicians seeming to inevitably gravitate and feeling at home in the darker, less structured depths of improvisation.

Moments of consonance are few and far between but, also thanks to their rarity, very effective and moving, their apotheosis being the interplay between the cello and bass on the final stretch of La memoria, probably my favourite and most memorable (no pun intended) moment on the whole album, with the musicians forgoing extended techniques and unconventional sounds and fully embracing simplicity and the character of bowed string instruments in a way that's pure, human and simply beautiful to listen to.

Other sections that are firmly stuck in my head are the rhythmic vocals and incessant staccato from the strings on Ofrendas II and the gorgeous tensions created between Crespo Pardo's melodies and the bass on the closer Sin tapar el sol, but I have the feeling that this is one of those albums where each moment could be someone's favourite depending on the listener's specific tastes and yours will probably differ from mine.

The music is constantly walking a tightrope between composition and improvisation, Crespo Pardo's original ideas and songs are enriched by the contributions from Fraser and St. Louis who are both given the space to express themselves and bring their own voice to the pieces resulting in a special collection of songs that exhibit the strengths of improvised music and lovely crafted compositions alike resulting in an album that, despite being made by three people, has a singular, focused vision.

All three musicians are extremely capable and versatile and the risk of wandering too far from the core of the songs must have been hard to overcome but they manage to stick to this vision throughout the duration of the album, never betraying its raison d'être and creating a fantastic, immersive and cohesive listen as a result.