Dan Clucas / Kyle Motl / Nathan Hubbard — Daydreams and Nothing (FMR)
Daydream And Halting by Dan Clucas / Kyle Motl / Nathan Hubbard
One of the pleasures of large group improvisations are the windows they open onto hitherto unimagined next encounters. This session arose from a series of “yeah, we gotta play together sometime” moments experienced in bands led by cornetist Dan Clucas and reeds player Peter Kuhn. The chance to play together as a trio was a while, since Clucas and percussionist Nathan Hubbard are full-time west coasters, and bassist Kyle Motl is not. But perhaps the necessity of waiting contributed to the all-in spirit that the three brought to this session when it finally happened.
This trio’s chemistry derives from a fine balance of concord and difference. Motl is a stylistically wide-ranging musician, but whether it’s classically derived or swinging, his playing is likely to make aware that a strong technician is at work. Clucas, on the other hand, seems to downplay technique, even when he’s exercising it. On cornet, his main horn, he favors melodies drawn in quick, brushed-ink strokes punctuated by pregnant gaps. It takes some kind of control to put just the right sized holes in just the right places; it takes another kind of skill to sound like another guy altogether when you pick up a different instrument. On “Driftscope Reversal,” he plays moxeño, an Andean wooden flute, with a bolder sense of line, which Motl counters with pointillistic gestures, and Hubbard further balances with a ceaselessly morphing rustle.
Clucas instigates yet another angle on “Before Long After” by switching to violin, which he plays with a disregard for precise pitch and a bold assertiveness that might make both Ornette Coleman and Billy Bang smile from whatever post-passing vantage point they currently occupy, knowing that their torch of raw expression has been passed, received and remains in motion. The simplicity of his playing presents Motl with the opportunity to fill up space, which he does with a brilliantly arranged barrage of snaps and rumbles while Hubbard generates a ceaselessly changing backdrop of motion and color.
On first listen, this session imparts a strong sense of each player’s character. Each return trip reveals a bit more of the chemistry that makes this a cohesive trio with the potential to keep on creating, not just three guys that sound good together.
Clucas / Bishop / Smith / Crane — Universal or Directional (Balance Point Acoustics)
Jeb Bishop (l) and Damon Smith (r) Photo by Dan Clucas
Universal or Directional bpaltd 10010 by Clucas / Bishop / Smith / Crane
“Why do I listen to this stuff?” It’s a question that many people never consider, or if confronted with it, actively resist answering. Liking something is an end in itself, right? Maybe. (Non)-response nonetheless communicates values for others to interpret. But it’s also the case that some music invites that question more than others. A record like Universal or Directional will never yield an answer like “if 10,000 Cardi B fans can be wrong, I don’t want to be right,” if only because the label published just 200 hard copies. But why do people want to listen to four guys playing drums, trombone, double bass and either cornet or trumpet figure out what they’re playing as they go along?
One answer lies in the question; because you like to hear people figuring it out as they’re doing it. This album, which comprises three quartet improvisations plus six break-out duos, is a superb example of free improvisation that exposes its process. You can hear Dan Clucas pick up on the technique and tone that Jeb Bishop proposes in the first seconds of “Condition Reports,” and then perceive how he takes those suggestions and warps them, and then hear Bishop respond with a contrasting texture. This stuff may be abstract, but it is pretty transparent about what’s happening.
Another answer is that it’s pretty damned exciting. Take “Provenance,” where the music grows from a kick drum beat to a whirlwind of smearing brass, shuddering wood, and ringing metal inside of fifteen seconds. To follow it is to feel yourself spinning with it.
Yet another answer is that you like hearing these instruments sound both like and unlike themselves. Smith’s bass sounds simultaneously huge and enclosing, like you’re inside of it and its sides are half a hockey rink away. Crane’s drums sound unenhanced but detailed; that’s a hi-hat in space that you’re hearing, not some stream of digital reinterpretations of a notion that started with someone’s foot mashing to bits of metal together. And both Clucas and Bishop toggle fluidly between conventionally beautiful and idiosyncratically personal ways of playing.
So why do you listen to this music (if you’ve read this far, you either must already do so or are about to give it a try)? That’s your business, but I applaud your good judgment. And why do I happily listen to Universal or Directional? Because it’s not only a splendid example of American free improvisation in the first fifth of the century, but a welcome instigator for a bit of personal reflection on why one wants to spend hours of one’s life hearing people make it up as they go along. Somehow, hearing people do it and succeed beautifully feels comforting and hope-inducing in a time when it’s crystal clear that the powers that be can’t pull it off to save their mortgaged souls.
Three sets of soloists at this event. I'll open up the evening with a short set of improvised and written music for electric kalimba, effects & percussion. Dan Clucas will play a solo set on cornet. Jeremy Gill will play a set of solo alto saxophone.
