Jessica Ackerley — All of the Colours Are Singing (AKP)
Photo by Michael Kochman
In their latest release, Jessica Ackerley explores further the intersection of jazz, rock, and experimental music leading a guitar trio with Walter Stinson on upright bass and Aaron Edgcomb on drums augmented on four of the seven tracks by Concetta Abatte on violin and viola. All of the Colours Are Singing is more song-oriented than previous releases such as last year’s Submerging Silently and All Hope With Sleeping Minds, a trio recording with guitarists Chaz Prymek and Nick Turner released earlier this year, but every bit as full of mystery and inspired moments. Not a second is wasted in the taut 37-minute running time.
This release is carefully sequenced, beginning with “Introduction” and proceeding through a progression suggested by the song titles to end with “Conclusion: In Four Micro Parts.” Following the stately opening track, “Forward Motion Is Never in a Straight Line” develops as a conversation between Ackerley and Stinson, who exchange staccato notes while Edgcomb provides accents, and, somewhat belying the title, builds to a prickly climax and satisfying resolution. The other two trio tracks, “To See Takes Time” and “The Dots Are the Connections,” vary this approach, the former being atmospheric and whimsical and the latter the most straightforward jazz track in the set, with Ackerley developing sinewy melody lines over Edgcomb’s scampering drum rolls and Stinson delivering an inspired solo near the end.
The tracks with Abatte make the most of the expanded sound palate. The title track is a gorgeous, almost psychedelic ballad with guitar effects suggestive of twittering birds floating over washes of strings and long bass notes that concludes with a rattling drum solo. In “Nature Morte: Time Is Fleeting,” the guitar serves as a guide through shimmering percussion leading to a gentle passage opening up like a meadow in a forest before the cymbals return to swaddle the other instruments. “Conclusion” starts with an extended guitar solo eventually joined by the drums and bass in the most overtly rock-influenced moment in the recording; the middle section deconstructs the quartet, with string squeaks and frantic percussion; and the group then coalesces around an arco bass drone and keening violin reminiscent of the opening track to tie everything together.
This feels like the album toward which Ackerley has been building, combining their well-developed improvisational skills with their increasingly advanced compositional skills. For those new to their music, All the Colours is the perfect place to start.
SSWAN — Invisibility is an Unnatural Disaster (577)
SSWAN: Invisibility is an Unnatural Disaster by Jessica Ackerley, Patrick Shiroishi, Chris Williams, Luke Stewart, Jason Nazary
Invisibility is an Unnatural Disaster is the first documented evidence of five adventurous instrumentalists performing together as a quintet. They are not strangers — there have been many collaborations among their ranks in various configurations — but this is the inaugural recording featuring this quintic structure as a single unit. Operating as a five-headed beast, the group are consummate improvisors, in tune with each other, and impressing a sense of camaraderie within their music. Video evidence documents just how effortlessly Jessica Ackerley, Patrick Shiroishi, Chris Williams, Luke Stewart and Jason Nazary engage in creative groupthink as they deploy musical ordnance built from a multitude of contexts. Their alloy is as multifaceted as they are, comprising free jazz, experimental noise, and sources further afield.
The moniker SSWAN, an acronym of the performers’ surnames, suggests both the gracefulness of the cygnus and the equal representation of everyone involved. While the group certainly moves with poise, they also imbue their music with a meticulous ardor. This energy is on display immediately, as Nazary’s punctilious drumming introduces the title track. Ackerley joins him almost immediately, in full-on shred mode. Her distortion-charged guitar zips around the room until Shiroishi’s soprano sax enters the fray. A brief respite gives Stewart (upright bass) and Williams (trumpet) space to introduce themselves. Shiroishi and Williams engage in a bit of call-and-response, while Stewart weaves around them and Ackerley hammers out a few chords. Nazary hasn’t let up the whole time; he’s set a baseline energy level from which the others can launch.
“Pattern Phases” exists at the more eclectic end of SSWAN’s palette, kicking off with very quiet breath exercises from Williams and Shiroishi. Stewart, Nazary and Ackerley punctuate the tiny gale with a hushed clatter. Eventually clicks, puckers, bubbles and assorted glossolalia reveal an alien syntax matched by a mechanical rattling and an oblique rhythm from Nazary and Stewart. Ackerley somehow creates the sound of a bicycle wheel with a foreign object in its spokes, as Williams’ trumpet swoops in and out of focus. It’s a jumble sale where all the objects have come alive, to the delight of the unsuspecting patrons. “A Miracle’s Worth” exists in an orbit between those of the two preceding pieces. It is both energetic and enigmatic. Ackerley lays down a morse code melody, while Nazary pounds out a ramshackle message in his own language. The other three enter like dust devils, stirring up clouds of drone. Williams deploys a mute, adding a growling menace to his melodies. A hush falls over the proceedings before Shiroishi appears, vocalising over Stewart’s bowed bass and a swirling mist of shaker beads. Ackerley introduces a pretty melody as Nazary pushes the proceedings toward the finish line, closing out this delightful session of finely wrought fire music.
