Last Dream Of The Morning — Sharp Illusion (Fundacja Sluchaj)
John Butcher has discussed on more than one occasion an optimum frequency of encounter between himself and other musicians. It isn’t measured in duration, although it could span years, but on one hand having enough time apart for both participants to be able to grow and change, while on the other sustaining some sort of rapport or productive friction. But he is not the kind of musician who does things the same way all of the time; the soprano and tenor saxophonist is a committed free improviser, and flexibility is as much a part of his aesthetic essence as the instantly identifiable voice that he has on his instruments.
Butcher has brazenly risked familiarity in his collective and separate relationships with bassist John Edwards and drummer Mark Sanders. He’s played with each quite often for decades, so much so that when they finally played together for the first time in November 2016, it was a bit of a shock to both the performers and those listening to the CD Last Dream Of The Morning (Relative Pitch) to realize that they hadn’t done it before. Since then, they’ve since kept at it as a trio, adopting the CD’s name as the band’s, touring around the UK and EU, and making more records.
Sharp Illusion is their third release. It was recorded in concert in Lublin, Poland in July 2024, and it makes a compelling case for musicians to get well acquainted with each other. Its very first sounds — some taps on drum, a strong bowed in querying ascent, and some lancing high pitches that sound electronic, but are the product of reed and breath — are charged with tension, simultaneously transmitting a sense of challenge materializing, yet seeming to be in the absolute best spot. Edwards and Sanders both pick up on the shape of Butcher’s sound and match it for a moment, and then the trio proceeds to another stack of textures pushing against each other. About two and a half minutes in, the tenor finally delivers a sequence of whole notes and occasional multiphonics that flow in a stuttering charge through a field of sighs and taps.
The trio’s equipment might bring to mind the gear of Sonny Rollins’ Way Out West, but the language is all theirs. It contains passages of spare rustling, pointillistic jousting, and juxtaposed contrasts of attack which are stated with such authority that they sound absolutely right as they happen, but also seem to open doors for the music to spin in any number of directions. As a listener you might focus on process or outcome, but either way, they’ve got what you need.
