Kirk Knuffke Trio — Gravity Without Airs (Tao Forms)
Photo by Madeleine Ventrice-Knuffke
Gravity Without Airs by Kirk Knuffke Trio
With his profuse facial hair and natty headgear, cornet player Kirk Knuffke looks as much like a hip rabbi as a jazz musician. Either way, it’s a profound asset to be heavy without being pretentious. He did not find the name for this album in the Torah, but in another ancient book, Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations. Whatever its provenance, the phrase fits, for this music has undeniable weight, but it’s never showy.
This session draws together several dyadic relationships. Knuffke has recorded and toured in a duo with bassist Michael Bisio, who in turn has maintained a duo as part of his long-standing, multi-faceted relationship with pianist Matthew Shipp. A betting person would probably not go broke guessing that he had that duo in mind when he plotted the brooding introduction to “June Stretched.” The cornetist also has a duo with Whit Dickey, who runs Tao Forms and coproduced this record. Dickey is also a drummer, which adds a bit of substance to the absence of his instrument.
The fact that Dickey composed eight of the tracks on Gravity Without Airs underscores that it is the product of forethought; Knuffke had some ideas about what he wanted going into the studio, and he prepared well. But he didn’t show the music to the other players ahead of time, a choice that maximized the spontaneity of their responses. It paid off, for not only does the recording have a graceful, uninterrupted flow, but six more pieces, totally improvised but sympathetic to the composed material’s vibes, arose from the trio’s spontaneous interactions.
The absence of drums makes it easy to hear how the musicians play off of each other; Knuffke might not have wanted to put on airs, but he certainly understands the merits of letting the music breath. Bisio and Shipp bring some of the same propulsiveness they achieve on their own projects. The pianist also supplies a solid, but uncluttered harmonic platform, one that makes sense of any tangents that either Bisio or Knuffke pursue. And both accompanists tune into the lyricism that courses through Knuffke’s tunes. Someone really ought to write a love song to go with his melody on “Today For Today,” but if that never happens, the contrapuntal hug supplied by his accompanists may be warmth enough.
