By Steve Elman

Each of these four projects requires deep attention from a listener. Only two of them repay that attention with the musical rewards that bring a listener (this listener, at least) back for rehearings.

Mike Holober & Gotham Jazz Orchestra: This Rock We’re On: Imaginary Letters; Bruno Råberg Tentet: Evolver; Norbert Stein & Pata Orchestra: Pata Kandinsky; Richard Nelson & Makrokosmos Orchestra: Dissolve

What is a jazz composer to do? So many trails have been blazed before him or her, so many brilliant signposts planted — by Duke Ellington, Charles Mingus, George Russell, Carla Bley, Maria Schneider, and a host of others who did not consider themselves primarily to be “composers.”  It must be a challenge to choose a musical language and to determine what he or she needs to say.

Four projects released this year by jazz composers (some of whom are also performers) all speak in a relatively narrow musical language ­––all four sound “modern,” sometimes challengingly so. They provide instructive examples, and some cautions, in presenting new work to a potential audience.  Each of these projects requires deep attention from a listener. Only two of them repay that attention with the musical rewards that bring a listener (this listener, at least) back for rehearings.

This post looks at these four in the order of approachability — how easily and quickly the music reaches the average ear. This is not the order of musical success; in fact, the first one may be the least satisfying musically, even though it is the most accessible.

Mike Holober’s This Rock We’re On: Imaginary Letters (Palmetto / Mike Holober & The Gotham Jazz Orchestra, 2024) is the latest release from a composer-pianist who has received an impressive array of recognitions since 2003. This Rock We’re On was my first encounter with his work; it proved to me that he is an accomplished writer who has full control of his materials. I wish I could be more enthusiastic about the concept and his skill as a writer of words.

This Rock We’re On is a two-pronged polemic. It is a suite in 17 parts, including seven art songs with minimal instrumentation, sung by Jamile Staevie Ayres, and 10 full-ensemble pieces played by Holober’s 17-piece Gotham Jazz Orchestra, including a prelude and a closing song in which Ayres also sings.

Holober expresses his purpose in the notes to the two-CD set. He intends to celebrate “naturalist authors, artists and activists who dedicated their lives to appreciating and protecting the earth we inhabit.”

So much effort has gone into This Rock We’re On and it is so well-performed that I am reluctant to find fault with it. In fact, because of my concerns, I considered not including this set at all in this post. Finally, I decided that its merits need to be praised at least as much as its faults need to be pointed out.

I confess that I am not the target audience for this work, although I personally agree with the ecological sentiments behind it. I have not warmed easily to polemics of any sort, and works of art driven by a didactic intent are rarely masterpieces — how many other art works can compare with the eloquence of Picasso’s Guernica or Penderecki’s Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima?

As I see it, all but one of the art songs here are failures, because Holober himself wrote the texts of his “imaginary letters.” These letters are all poems of a fashion, painfully sincere and painfully thin. One of the worst quatrains reads: “The road we walk / the life we lead / the hope we hold / the love we need.” A comparison with A.B. Spellman’s poetry in Jeff Scott’s Passion for Bach and Coltrane, which I reviewed in a recent post, makes the issues all too clear: polemical poetry has much less force than poetry from the heart, and poetry from the heart must speak from hard experience.

Furthermore, art songs are among the most challenging things to write. Musicians associated with jazz have rarely tried or succeeded at the form. Steve Lacy’s songs on texts from a wide variety of poets are triumphs; I wrote about his song cycle Vespers in 2011. More recently, Maria Schneider’s Winter Morning Walks (on texts by poet Ted Kooser) and Carlos Drummond de Andrade Stories (both on artistShare, 2013) are filled with beautiful melodies, sung brilliantly in those recordings by Dawn Upshaw; again, the composer had the wisdom to look to genuine word-artists for her inspirations.

Holober’s decision to write the texts of “imaginary letters” to or from the figures he intends to honor makes the honorees smaller because of the baldness of his words. His instrumentals are fine tributes in their own rights, so he need not have limited himself to songs to or from these people. If he felt art songs were absolutely necessary to this project, he might have looked to the simple elegance of the words of Francis of Assisi or Jane Goodall, the outrage of Greta Thunberg speaking to the UN’s Climate Action Summit in September 2019, or the reflections on nature from Henry David Thoreau’s journals — there are plenty of rich texts for him to have mined. Perhaps most puzzling of all is his decision to write imaginary letters between Rachel Carson and her friend Dorothy Freeman when much of their actual correspondence has been published. This smacks of hubris.

But this concept reaches its nadir in three particularly bad songs: “imaginary letters” from a generic child, from a rock spire in Utah sculpted by wind and time (“Refuge”), and from a tree (“Noetry”). The text of this last one is just marginally above the work of doggerel poet Joyce Kilmer.

The exception to the disappointments is “To Virginia,” the single art song whose text was not written by Holober, a setting of a graceful and elegant poem by Ansel Adams. It is one of the highlights of the suite. Holober has written two full-ensemble instrumentals to accompany it that also are stellar. “Dear Virginia” is a touching evocation of the love between Adams and his wife Virginia, with two veteran soloists standing in for the lovers — trumpeter Marvin Stamm (83 at the time of this recording, with his chops still superb) and tenor player Virginia Mayhew (20 years Stamm’s junior, and no less adept). Holober follows this with “Domes,” a powerful piece influenced by the work of George Russell, with one passage strongly reminiscent of the third movement of Russell’s All About Rosie.

“Dear Virginia” and “Domes” are just two of the well-crafted instrumentals here, and three others deserve particular mention. “Dirt Lover’s Almanac” has beautiful work from classical cellist Jody Redhage Ferber (she also elevates the art songs when she can, and deserves the title of Most Valuable Player for the entire suite). “Tower Pulse” makes good use of minimalist ideas and has strong contributions from saxophonist Chris Potter, guitarist Nir Felder, and Redhage Ferber. “Erosion” looks to George Russell again, and has another good solo from the guitarist.

The final piece in the suite, “This Rock We’re On,” is a full-ensemble setting of Holober’s regrettable imaginary letter from a child, pleading for humanity to save the natural world for him or her. Holober chooses to have parts of it sung by a young person (Ronan Rigby), whose voice is simply not up to the task, by a male singer who is not much better (Jason Shipp?), and finally by Ayres for much-needed vocal beauty in a woman’s voice. Ayres concludes, over a soaring ensemble, “It’s all too much.”

Yes, it is.

Bruno Råberg’s new CD, Evolver (Orbis, 2024), is much less ambitious than Holober’s opus, but its charms are much more evident. The bassist-composer, who is resident in our area and holds a chair at Berklee, has been making superb recordings on his own Orbis label since 1992, showcasing his abilities as composer and performer in a wide range of musical contexts.

In this release, he writes for a 10-piece ensemble — mostly reeds, with one trumpet, one trombone, and a rhythm section of guitar, keyboard, bass (played by the composer), and drums.  This is a great showcase for Råberg’s writing, with some tuneful and simple pieces and some challenging, more complex structures — all showing off admirable sonic variety, original instrumental voicings, and plenty of appeal. All the soloists are top-class; they show a lot of personality, but never get in the way of Råberg’s concepts.

The most elegant piece may be “Stiltje” (Swedish for “stillness”), which delivers exactly what its title promises — a lovely and evocative work, with entirely simpatico solos from trumpeter Peter Kenagy, alto flutist Fernando Brandão, tenor player Stephen Byth, and pianist Anastassiya Petrova, all of whom (along with saxophonist Allan Chase) also contribute well to other pieces in the set.

Of the stand-alone pieces, I can also point to “Mode Natakapriya,” where Råberg employs a Carnatic raga scale in a modal framework, and “Elegy,” which offers a reminiscence in an affectionate mood, framing excellent contributions from Walter Smith III on tenor and Kris Davis on piano. But each of the other three short works also has much to recommend it.

Evolver concludes with a four-part suite, “Echos,” that is more abstract than the six short works, but no less effective. Davis and Smith shine again on these pieces; Davis offers some prepared piano on the first movement that especially grabs the ear. These pieces may not be as direct in appeal as the others, but they are tantalizing music nonetheless.

Now we enter thicker jungles of sound.

German composer Norbert Stein, who has generously provided me with copies of his recent CDs, offers a new set (Pata Kandinsky, Pata 2024) that documents a performance by his Pata Orchestra at the Multiphonics Festival at Skulpturenpark Waldfrieden, in Wuppertal, Germany, on September 29, 2023. The 12-piece ensemble here, like Råberg’s, is reed-heavy, with the addition of euphonium, live electronics, and a rhythm section of piano, bass, and drums. Stein himself is an accomplished tenor saxophonist, though he limits his role to that of leader and ensemble player here.

New listeners to Stein’s music will find a great resource in three YouTube video postings of movements from Pata Kandinsky (see “More” below for the links) as they were performed in Wuppertal. They show how Stein cues themes visually with his hands and musically with his tenor saxophone, and how effectively the ensemble follows his direction.

The band includes the remarkable double-bell euphonium virtuoso Nicolao Valiensi and flutist Michael Heupel, both of whom were featured on the last Stein release, Heartland. Both solo brilliantly in the first movement of the suite. Joker Nies, who adds electronics color throughout, has real solos in the first two movements; his work here represents the first time I have heard the abstract breeps and blips of live electronics make real musical sense. The section is superb — pianist Uwe Oberg has a big feature in the fifth movement, drummer Jörg Fischer gets a leadoff solo in the last one, and bassist Florian Herzog is all over his axe in each one.

The music is a six-part suite inspired by the work and the words of Russian artist Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944). Just as Kandinsky’s dynamic abstractions were constructed with remarkable gravity and balance, so Stein’s suite is an exuberant but meticulous juggle. He provides unison themes that at times recall Abdullah Ibrahim, Thelonious Monk, or a marching band; disciplined free-improv spots for solo instruments, combinations of them, or the entire orchestra; and supporting figures distributed throughout the ensemble that never cloud the forward motion. There is also a bit of wry humor hiding behind the abstractions. Pata Kandinsky is fascinating, and it is the second of the jazz composer’s releases this year (with Råberg’s) that I expect to revisit.

I’m not so sure I can say the same for Richard Nelson’s Dissolve (Adhyâropa, 2024). This is a loosely connected trio of large pieces for a 15-person ensemble (“The Makrokosmos Orchestra”) that sounds a lot bigger. With four brass, four reeds, and a section of keyboards, bass / electric bass, drums, percussion, and the composer on guitar, Nelson has a lot to work with.

The composer’s name may not be well-known, and he can be confused (as Spotify does) with the skillful pedal steel player of the same name. This Richard Nelson, based in Maine, has several small group recordings, beginning with Figurations (Invisible, 2001), and a number of classical orchestral performances to his credit. His last recorded project (Deep River, Heliotrope, 2015) was a suite of large-ensemble pieces written for Mark Harvey’s Aardvark Jazz Orchestra, and Harvey contributes some instructive liner notes to Dissolve.

A high point for me is Tim O’Dell’s soprano saxophone work on “Float.” He has a Steve Lacyish strength on this axe, and his solo work on this track has great coherence and force. As co-leader of the Makrokosmos Orchestra with Nelson, he really earns his stripes here.

I also was intrigued by “Cohere,” which has strong echoes of George Russell’s music, as well as a flavor of late Miles Davis. Jacob Vermuss’s trumpet solo and Arco Sandoval’s soloing and support on electric piano on this track provide a lot of pleasure.

But the music of all three compositions is Nelson’s, for better or worse. His ambitions are significant, and the fact that he looks to Russell for some of his thinking gives me much to enjoy here. At its best, his music develops a lot of energy, but I miss something. Russell always balanced his complicated rhythm structures and dense orchestrations with an unfailing ear for melody, and his counterpoint lines always sang. Nelson’s tendency is to choose atonal lines that do not sit as well in my ears.

I also have to find some fault with Rob Garcia, the drummer on “Float.” It is a tricky business to play funk in unusual time signatures, and drummer Scott Neumann, who plays on the other two pieces, fills that role well when Nelson asks him to. But Garcia’s work in an especially tricky context — not just an unusual time frame but a slow one as well — is a little wanting; it does not have the relaxed spring in it that I would like to hear. I don’t know why the drummer and the bassist are different on “Float,” but it would seem that the orchestra needs the section in this piece that it has on the other two, which includes veteran bassist Ken Filiano, always a sure-footed resource.

Over the course of the past month — in this post, in my review of Jeff Scott’s work mentioned above, and in a string quartet omnibus earlier on — I have surveyed the work of 22 contemporary composers making formal music that is connected in one way or another with the world of jazz. It has been ear-opening to hear the range of musical talent working today.

But it has been sobering, too. I have noted before that the ageless touchstones of music are singable melody and danceable rhythm. For real greatness, a composer needs to couple these qualities and his or her own ingenuity to that indefinable quality that could be called heart. Ultimately, to be lasting and profound, music must touch the soul of a listener as well as delight the brain. Ellington, Mingus, Russell, and Bley knew this. Schneider understands it as well. All of the composers I surveyed recently know how to to write excellent Head Music, but only a handful speak to the heart as well.

I look forward to hearing more work from each of these composers. I hope more of them can plumb the depths of feeling that I found in the music of those I particularly admire – Wadada Leo Smith, Ryan Truesdell (especially in his Suite for Clarinet and String Quartet), Jeff Scott, and Bruno Råberg.

More:

Mike Holober’s impressive credentials are detailed in the biography, found on his website. This Rock We’re On is hearable and purchasable, as a whole or track by track, on Bandcamp.

Bruno Råberg’s biography may be found on his website. A sample track from Evolver is hearable here, and the entire CD, along with other Orbis releases, may be purchased directly from him.

Norbert Stein’s biography may be found on his website. There are three YouTube videos of live performance of three movements of Pata Kandinsky at the Multiphonics Festival in Wuppertal, Germany, using the same excellent audio that is heard on Stein’s CD: Movement I  Movement V  Movement VI .  Pata Kandinsky may be purchased at Stein’s Pata Music store, along with his other CDs and several saxophone workbooks. A memorial website for Wassily Kandinsky contains reproductions of 50 of the artist’s paintings.

Richard Nelson’s biography may be found on his website. Dissolve is hearable and purchasable on Bandcamp.

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Steve Elman’s more than four decades in New England public radio have included 10 years as a jazz host in the 1970s, five years as a classical host on WBUR in the 1980s, a short stint as senior producer of an arts magazine, 13 years as assistant general manager of WBUR, and fill-in classical host on 99.5 WCRB.