The paths of William Parker, Hamid Drake, and Daniel Carter have crossed often enough, and over such a span of time, that it’s a bit of a shock to realize that this is only their second album as a trio. The first, Painter’s Spring, was part of Thirsty Ear Records’ Blue Series, a program selected by Matthew Shipp in order to bring free jazz to people who might not otherwise listen. It fulfilled its gateway function with honor by delivering open-ended performances of melodies nourished by a deep blues sensibility that were propelled by a flexible but unstoppable sense of swing.
While those sensibilities likewise nurture Painters Winter (no apostrophes, thank you), which follows its predecessor by twenty-one years, the group does not precisely duplicate its vibe. The first time, Parker and Drake got down to rhythm section fundamentals. Now, they join Carter, who routinely defies the conventional wisdom that says mixing woodwinds and brass will wreck your chops. Carter once more savors the pleasures of multi-instrumentalism, waxing lyrical on alto and tenor saxophones, clarinet, flute, and trumpet. Drake plays hand drums as well as a kit, and Parker plays shakuhachi and trombonium (a compact brass instrument that was invented to give marching bands access to a trombone’s sonorities) as well as double bass. Whenever Parker picks up a wind instrument, Drake throttles back, accentuating details with cymbal washes or blazing paths of spare, winding beats that wander away from his partners’ breath exchanges, but always complement them. If you’re used to being carried away by his joyous grooves, you might find it necessary to listen a little closer this time in order to catch his endless rhythmic permutations. But maybe you’ll just focus on the laconic exchanges between contrasting winds.
With bass in hand, Parker revels in the space that the trio provides. The long developmental arcs of his ideas are matched by his tonal bulk. On the opener, “Groove 77,” Carter balances Parker’s heft with slender, economical lines played on a muted trumpet, and balancing Parker’s unstoppable drive on “A Curly Russell” with short, cork-screwing lines. His knack for contrast extends to emotional content, as well, best exemplified by the dolorous cast to his tenor on “Happiness.” While it’s possible to just kick back and enjoy Painters Winter as easily as its predecessor, these dynamic shifts yield an endless bounty of discoveries. Settle in; winter’s a time for listening.
