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The first collaboration between Japanese noise titan Masami Akita, aka Merzbow, iconic Brazilian drummer and producer Iggor Cavalera and forward-thinking Italian guitarist and sound designer Eraldo Bernocchi, 'Nocturnal Rainforest' terraforms a sonic landscape that's almost overpoweringly dense and disorienting, but never aggressive or chaotic. It's a fully immersive experience that re-contextualizes the trio's years of work in extreme experimental music by concentrating on texture, atmosphere and sensory overload. The noise itself is used to provoke a refined level of focus; 'Nocturnal Rainforest' is mediative in its own way, enveloping listeners with waves of distortion, phantasmic unmetered rhythms and perplexing processed field recordings, but it's not intended for passive listening. Made using a fusion of bespoke techniques the trio have been developing for decades, it exists in a raw and mystifying liminal zone between the organic realm and the digital world - a place that's too hauntingly familiar to be ignored. One of the world's most notorious and most prolific noise artists, Akita has release acclaimed genre-defining albums on labels as diverse as Relapse, Important Records, Tzadik, Cold Spring and Soleilmoon, and collaborated with a diverse spread of artists, from Keiji Haino and Mika Patton to Melt-Banana and Boris. Since 1979, he's released over 500 Merzbow records, including 1984's tape experiment 'Pornoise/1kg Vol.1', 1996's noise wall milestone 'Pulse Demon' and 2005's dubby 'Merzbuddha'. Meanwhile, Cavalera is best known for co-founding Brazilian metal act Sepultura, and since leaving the band in 2006, he's been constantly re-examining his relationship with underground experimental music, working alongside artists like Laima Leyton, Ninos Du Brasil, Raven Chacon, Linekraft, Petbrick, Pig Destroyer, Soulwax, Dwid Hellion, Shane Embury, amongst others. Bernocchi started his journey in the '70s playing in various punk bands, and came of age in the '80s when he co-founded post-industrial collective Sigillum S and making connections that stretched across the entire global underground. An active member of the influential illbient movement, he worked with some of the genre's crucial figures such as Spectre, Bill Laswell and DJ Olive, recording for WordSound as well as cult hip-hop imprint Rawkus. And Bernocchi has continued to innovate, working as SIMM with Grammy-winning grime MC Flowdan and recording with Harold Budd, Cocteau Twins' Robin Guthrie, Gaudi Nils Petter Molvaer, Hoshiko Yamane and many others. 'Nocturnal Rainforest' is a product of each artist's ongoing musical evolution, powered by extreme music but tempered by deep listening techniques that expect presence rather than dissociation. On 'Swietnenia Macrophylla', evocative humid soundscapes provide a precarious sense of security at first, blurred at the edges by purring oscillations that mimic the jungle's fauna. And that peace is quickly ruptured by percussive, foghorn-like distortions that mark out the scale of the trio's vision. Not just raw noise, the rougher elements are cut with subtle waves of billowing ambience and muggy low- end drones before the track launches into a symphony of computerized stutters. There's a constant push and pull between organic and artificial sounds - before there's been time to acclimatize to the DAW-corrupted noise, collaged tape saturations and slashed amplifier hum muddies the atmosphere, purposefully confusing the senses and obfuscating the sources. And the thought is continued on 'Ceiba Pentandra' when the trio follow the jungle's teeming sonics with growling, whirring electronics and dense interference. What starts as birdsong and an choir of insects mutates into a wall of deafening, transcendent full-spectrum texture that cracks open like a slow-moving storm over a shadowy wilderness.
Hailing from the seaside communities surrounding Enoshima, a small island located 50 km southwest of Tokyo, maya ongaku is a ragtag collective of local musicians whose brand of earthy psychedelia transcends widely beyond the roots of their inner souls. The name derives not from any kind of ancient civilization, but rather a neologism defined as the imagined view outside one’s field of vision. The band—currently a trio of Tsutomu Sonoda, Ryota Takano, and Shoei Ikeda—finds sanctuary at the Ace General Store, a beachy vintage shop and salon-like space just hidden from sight from the bustling, touristy riverside Subana Street. Between discussions on music and art, curating the vinyl section and manning the register, and chatting up with locals young and old, the members find time to jam and record their spontaneous ideas in the studio tucked away in the back. It’s in this unlikely setting where maya ongaku finds its origins, the culmination of what Sonoda describes as 自然発生 (shizen hassei), meaning spontaneous generation, or the supposed production of living organisms from nonliving matter.
Approach to Anima, the group’s debut album released on Guruguru Brain, finds maya ongaku building a foundational groove while tapping into their innermost psyche. Sonoda’s malleable guitar and vocals, Takano’s sinuous bass lines, Ikeda’s floating woodwinds, and a sprinkling of delicate percussion—all coalesce into an aural experience that’s assertive yet abstract, calm but unsettling. The slow building, sax-laden “Approach” serves as an introduction to maya ongaku’s world, while the appropriately-named “Water Dream” floats its way toward the gentle finale of “Pillow Song.” It’s a concise distillation of their many interests and influences, from Neo-Dada and Fluxus, to where contemporary art intersects with the development of modern recording technology in the ‘60s and ‘70s.
As the title suggests, Approach to Anima is not intended to be a terminus; it’s merely the beginning of an exploration. The three childhood friends that comprise maya ongaku are always looking beyond the confines of the idyllic but rapidly gentrifying enclave of their beloved Enoshima. Feeding off of the energy that still radiates from the triumphant, decade-long journey of their label bosses’ band Kikagaku Moyo, who rose to global prominence from scrappy beginnings busking on the streets of Takadanobaba, they hope to go wherever inspiration takes them, to anywhere around the globe where their music can find a home.
Ultimately, maya ongaku’s uninhibited world-building will make it possible for us to see the unseen, expand the possibilities of the naked eye—all through the unbridled vibrancy of their music.
On the record New Chapter, sound from all directions of the sky is transformed as it flows through the bodies of the musicians. The source material is Viola Klein’s solo record Confidant and the collaboration with the Sabar Ensemble Diop from Saint Louis, titled We. Whodat in Detroit, Kassem Mosse in Leipzig, Nídia in Lisbon, and Viola Klein in Cologne and Dakar reshape the places where Deep House, Leftfield, Kuduro, and Mbalax originated and/or continue to thrive: the USA, Germany, Portugal, and Senegal.
Pierre Bastien’s "Tools" pays tribute to the Meccano screwdriver, the origin of his mechanical instruments. Using self-made devices, Bastien explores sound’s raw materiality, embracing chance and discovery, and inviting listeners to experience new musical worlds.
“On my end, I had to sooner or later pay a similar tribute to the tool that allowed for the crafting of the Mecanium, from 1976 to this day. [...] Origin of origins, which even preceded the shaping of the sound-generating device, the Meccano screwdriver stands out from the regular screwdriver because of its singular shape: a simple metal rod flattened at one end, and rounded into an oblong loop at the other. [...] This all-new, streamlined, purposeful design helped me, once more, to compose the current record.” - Pierre Bastien
In Tools, Pierre Bastien explores his long-standing fascination with the concept of “elsewhere” from a new perspective. The title echoes an article by René Van Peer, which opens with this concise formula: “I compose with a screwdriver”. Bastien performs on instruments of his own making —mechanical assemblages built primarily from Meccano parts— which structure not only the music itself but also an image of music. Rather than seeking narrative or metaphor, let’s not imagine anything just yet, Bastien invites us first to observe the raw materiality of his mechanisms: the clash of gears, the hum of rotation, the tension between precision and accident.
The machine-instrument at the origin of this record was composed of a rhythm section, a harmonic section with six valves playing six major chords, a rotating nail violin, eight rotating flute mouthpieces, and an automated skeleton of a record player. The device holds its hidden secrets. What emerges, unplanned, carries the essence of discovery. The unexpected remains invisible until it materializes. To discover something is to understand that the world we knew has widened. As such, Bastien’s creative process is a precious reminder that “elsewhere” (and its multitude of worlds) is always lurking around us.
Having sold his instruments to fund a nomadic 1970s lifestyle, eccentric Irish experimentalist Michael O’Shea was forced to create his own handmade answer to the sitars and zelochords he’d become accustomed to playing on his travels around the globe.
Using an old door, 17 strings, chopsticks and combining them with phasers, echo units and amplification, the new device was to become his signature sound, mixing Irish folk influences with Asian and North African sounds in a mesmerising and soulful new way that brought him to the attention of the leading improvisers of his day - Alice Coltrane, Ravi Shankar, Don Cherry and more.
A logical follow up to AllChival’s recent reissue of Stano's debut LP, Michael O’Shea’s self titled LP was originally released on Wire's Dome Imprint in 1982.
The background to the album is as interesting and inspiring as the artist who created it - born in Northern Ireland but raised in the Republic, O’Shea was keen to travel and escape the troubles of his home.
Wandering throughout Europe and the Middle East, O’Shea found himself living and working as a relief aid in Bangladesh in the mid Seventies where he learned to play sitar while recovering from a bout of hepatitis. A later period spent busking in France accompanied on zelochord by Algerian musician Kris Hosylan Harp led to O’Shea’s idea of combining both instruments as a homebuilt instrument - Mo Chara [Irish for "My Friend"].
He later described the process on the back of the LP himself saying: "Having sold my sitar in Germany and being desperate for money to travel to Turkey, I conceived of the idea of combining both sitar and zelochord. The first Mo Cara was born, taken from the middle of a door, which was rescued from a skip in Munchen"
A combination of dulcimer, zelochord and sitar, O Shea would play it with a pair of chopsticks, striking the strings softly using Irish folk rhythms mixed with the rich, nostalgic sounds of of the many Asian artists he’d encountered on his travels.
It was a pan cultural sound standing at an unusual crossroads of folk, traditional, rock, progressive, jazz, electronic and post-punk worlds without hesitation.
Perfecting the instrument on the streets, there were further spells spent busking in the underground stations and cafes of London's West End and Covent Garden during the heady days of the 1970s when they were full of eccentric street entertainers, jazz improvisers and musical pioneers.
His work with Rick Wakeman never saw the light of day but O’Shea’s contact with the world of post-punk London ensured his name would live on.
Introduced to Wire's Bruce Gilbert and Graham Lewis via cartoonist Tom Johnston, O’Shea eventually acquiesced to an open invite to record at their studio. Turning up unannounced in the first half of 1981 the LP was recorded in a day in the legendary Blackwing Studios and released on Dome the year after.
The first side features the fifteen minute masterpiece "No Journeys End" with the B side featuring more input from Wire in processing the Mo Chara sound.
Lewis himself said years later of the forgotten masterpiece: “I always said it was the best job we ever did.”
After an aborted LP with The The's Matt Johnson the following year, O’Shea quietly disappeared from the formal recording world . His brief but unique contribution to the music world came to a sad end in 1991 when O’Shea was struck by a post van and died a few days later in hospital in London.
This repress on All City’s AllChival imprint has been remastered and reissued with the approval of both Dome and his surviving siblings.
Deep hypnotic ambient techno from Kommune trio George Thompson, Kyle Martin & Jonathan Nash. Recorded live in converted barn, October 2014. Four long-form compositions showcase mastery of TR-808 & dub techniques. Profound minimalist electronic journey.
Music from Memory is delighted to announce the forthcoming release of Oast by Kommune, a double LP of deep, hypnotic ambient techno that captures a fleeting but profound moment in electronic music history. Formed by George Thompson, Kyle Martin and Jonathan Nash, Kommune were active between 2014-2015, emerging organically from the intertwined musical journeys of three close friends living near each other in North London. At the time of Kommune's formation, Nash and Martin had recently completed their debut album as Land Of Light, while Thompson (aka Black Merlin) was putting the finishing touches to his debut album Hipnotik Tradisi and also working with Martin as part of the duo Spectral Empire. Sharing equipment and ideas, Kommune served as a creative outlet for exploring analogue machine music in an improvisational context, with sessions in their North London studios leading to a handful of memorable gigs at venues including Hamburg's legendary Golden Pudel and London's LN-CC.
This fleeting chapter of musical history may well have gone entirely undocumented had it not been for the fortuitous decision to meet up for a recording session in October 2014. Filling a car with their machines, the trio drove to a converted barn in the south of England, proceeded to set up, settle in and hit the record button. Over the course of two days, fuelled by the experiences of recent performances, they immersed themselves in the machines, crafting subtly evolving, long-form compositions with an enchanting balance and flow.
Across the four long-form compositions that make up Oast, the trio summons barely controllable scrapes, acid-like bubbles, and bleeps from their machines, leaning on dub mixing techniques to give the tracks a sense of depth, dynamism and organic ambience. Mastery of the TR-808 drum machine is central, with remarkably nuanced drum programming imparting a hypnotic rhythm to the work, allowing other elements to emerge and unfold at a beautifully measured tempo.
Recorded entirely live and improvised without any overdubs, Oast offers a profound journey into minimalist electronic music while serving as a tribute to friendship, curiosity, and the spirit of experimentation. The album stands as testament to the magic that can occur when talented musicians come together in the right place at the right time, creating something that transcends the sum of its parts. Each member would continue to develop their individual projects following Kommune's dissolution, but Oast remains a unique document of their collaborative chemistry and shared vision for electronic music that bridges the gap between ambient meditation and dancefloor hypnosis.
Oast will be released on LP and digitally on July 25th 2025 via Music From Memory, with sleeve art and design by Michael Willis.
From the 1950s, Masaaki Takano (1927-2007) worked as a freelance "sound planner," mainly creating sound effects for stage productions. In the mid-1980s he began performances called "Sound Play" where he would perform on his own self-created sound instruments and his collection of ethnic instruments. Growing out of his work with sound effects, he became obsessed with the recording of natural sounds from the 1970s onwards, and this album "Shizukutachi" is a record of a high-quality recording of water droplets that he created in the studio using his own self-created suikinchiku system. This reissue recreates the original LP, using special paper to create beautiful packaging and duplicating the original, ultra-transparent vinyl. The reissue includes newly penned, detailed liner notes by Tomotaro Kaneko (owner of the Japanese Art Sound Archive).
Remastered by Giuseppe Ielasi.
The LP jacket is made from two layers of chipboard cardboard and washi-like "shindanshi" paper that reproduces the feel of the original. The LP also comes with two postcards and a 20-page A4 booklet (Text in Japanese and English),a download code.
Belgian guitarist Ruben Machtelinckx lives in a world of sound. He interacts with his fellow musicians, deploying the most refined, delicate sort of interplay, as if collectively painting clouds for the ears. Diffuse harmonies, grainy textures, and rhythms that drift like fallen leaves offer a deeply meditative, gorgeously colored environment that the guitarist is helping to shape, but he’s also basking in the tones vibrating and shimmering around him. The music slows down time, forging an environment without boundaries that billows like smoke, constantly reshaping every fragile tone. It’s Machtelinckx’s sweet spot, but as much as he surrenders to the sonic ecosystem, he’s deftly aware of its subtle activity, rigorously participating in its real-time creation and development.
Back in 2019 he explained the motivation for his long-running, open-ended Porous Structures concept, saying, “We’re trying to achieve a state of being. It doesn’t have to go anywhere or have a direction.” At the time he was exploring the idea alongside reedist Joachim Badenhorst, fellow guitarist Bert Cools, and French percussionist Toma Gouband. Some of the music on the group’s 2019 Aspen Edities album was composed beforehand but even the fully improvised pieces featured Badenshort’s reeds and ghostly falsetto voice cutting through this dreamy sound world, nascent melodic strands that seemed to emanate from the collective resonance itself. Five years later Machtelinckx has remade the project, which continues to feature Gouband’s sui generis sonification of organic materials like stones and tree branches. The new quartet is rounded out with a pair of distinctive guitarists, long-time Belgian collaborator Frederik Leroux—Machtelinckx’s partner in the tender duo project Poor Isa—and the Berlin-based Norwegian Fredrik Rasten, a more recent creative partner with whom he also maintains a duo.
“What remains is the choice of acoustic and fragile sounds, comprehensible to the listener but with an undercurrent of tension and complexity,” says Machtelinckx. “What is new is the intertwining of acoustic guitars. The melodic voice is exchanged for yet another stringed instrument, resulting in a group sound in which individuals are barely distinguishable. The classical roles of an ensemble are abandoned: the three guitars weave a web in which the percussion moves freely. The quartet makes use of microtonality and plays a stubborn game of endless, subtle variations.” In some ways this assemblage furthers his earlier statement that the music doesn’t need to go anywhere, and indeed, on first blush the three pieces on this album appear to levitate. Still, when one digs deeper that claim isn’t entirely true. While the music doesn’t usually feature any traditional sense of propulsion, the performances definitely go somewhere.
Theoretically three acoustic guitars are indistinguishable from each other, but each musician has his own personality and style. The stacked guitars create a vertical sort of tension. Each player simultaneously adheres to a collective timbre, but within those limitations they can’t help but express a certain aesthetic essence. While I can’t identify who does what, there’s no missing the thrilling way individual aesthetics peek out in short, elegant flourishes; the humid harmonic churn giving way to poignant snatches of melody, only to dissipate as quickly as they formed. Machtelinckx’s decision to eschew a more conventional melodic voice gives Gouband greater freedom than with the previous line-up, which led to a change in the studio process. “I wanted all the details of the acoustic guitars, and at the same time I wanted Toma to be able to play full force,” Machtelinckx explains, so to preclude potential sound bleed and balance issues, the percussionist played in a separate room from the guitarists, with all of them listening to one another on headphones but without being able to see one other. Instead, the communication all came from listening. “The first Porous Structures album had some compositions of mine to steer the music in a specific direction. With this ensemble I did not feel the necessity to do this. We had a couple of conversations about different directions the music could go, and made some decisions before we started, but that's it.”
The sidelong opening piece “In my earliest memory I see trees'' is a marvel of deceptive stasis, where the music absolutely reflects “a state of being.” As the three guitars float on delicately intertwined arpeggios, single-note runs, and fleeting harmonic clusters, Gouband punctuates, prods, and caresses the action, sometimes inserting the sweet tintinnabulation of chiming cymbals, sometimes accentuating the drifty guitars with rustling friction, and sometimes pulling on the reins with a sudden stuttering tom-tom tattoo. The group does create something far more driving in “Falling forward becomes a walk,” which cleaves to the titular suggestion of gravity fomenting a kind of motion. Gouband is decidedly active and the guitarists toggle to three-way riff-oriented spontaneity—a kind of forceful walking in place. The quartet might not be moving from point to point, but it is sizing things up and pushing against edges. Tuning differences impart dizzying clouds of harmony on “Void of Narration,” the arrival of bowed guitar expanding the palette so that the slow motion entrance of Gouband on a quietly shimmering cymbal initially feels like a halo of the strings.
Astonishingly, this recording was the ensemble’s first ever performance together. “I feel that there can be something magical in a first meeting,” says Machtelinckx. “When you record a first meeting there is a sort of extreme focus and awareness of time, a gentle way of exploring each other and the music, a conscious doubt that I find very interesting.” It would be hard to disagree.
Peter Margasak
Berlin, March 2024
-Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy-, x2 LPs of long-form, lyrical, groove-based free improv by acclaimed guitarist & composer Jeff Parker's ETA IVtet is at last here. Recorded live at ETA (referencing David Foster Wallace), a bar in LA’s Highland Park neighborhood with just enough space in the back for Parker, drummer Jay Bellerose, bassist Anna Butterss, & alto saxophonist Josh Johnson to convene in extraordinarily depthful & exploratory music making. Gleaned for the stoniest side-length cuts from 10+ hours of vivid two-track recordings made between 2019 & 2021 by Bryce Gonzales, -Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy- is a darkly glowing séance of an album, brimming over with the hypnotic, the melodic, & patience & grace in its own beautiful strangeness. Room-tone, electric fields, environment, ceiling echo, live recording, Mondays, Los Angeles. Jeff Parker's first double album & first live album, -Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy- belongs in the lineage of such canonical live double albums recorded on the West Coast as Lee Morgan’s -Live at the Lighthouse-, Miles Davis' -In Person Friday & Saturday Night at the Blackhawk, San Francisco- & -Black Beauty-, & John Coltrane's -Live in Seattle-.
While the IVtet sometimes plays standards &, including on this recording, original compositions, it is as previously stated largely a free improv group —just not in the genre meaning of the term. The music is more free composition than free improvisation, more blending than discordant. It’s tensile, yet spacious & relaxed. Clearly all four musicians have spent significant time in the planetary system known as jazz, but relationships to other musics, across many scenes & eras —dub & Dilla, primary source psychedelia, ambient & drone— suffuse the proceedings. Listening to playbacks Parker remarked, humorously & not, “we sound like the Byrds” (to certain ears, the Clarence White-era Byrds, who really stretched it).
A fundamental of all great ensembles, whether basketball teams or bands, is the ability of each member to move fluidly & fluently in & out of lead & supportive roles. Building on the communicative pathways they’ve established in Parker’s -The New Breed- project, Parker & Johnson maintain a constant dialogue of lead & support. Their sampled & looped phrases move continuously thru the music, layered & alive, adding depth & texture & pattern, evoking birds in formation, sea creatures drifting below the photic zone. Or, the two musicians simulate those processes by entwining their terse, clear-lined playing in real-time. The stop/start flow of Bellerose, too, simulates the sampler, recalling drum parts in Parker’s beat-driven projects. Mostly Bellerose's animated phraseologies deliver the inimitable instantaneous feel of live creative drumming. The range of tonal colors he conjures from his extremely vintage battery of drums & shakers —as distinctive a sonic signature as we have in contemporary acoustic drumming— bring almost folkloric qualities to the aesthetic currency of the IVtet's language. A wonderful revelation in this band is the playing of Anna Butterss. The strength, judiciousness & humility with which she navigates the bass position both ground & lift upward the egalitarian group sound. As the IVtet's grooves flow & clip, loop & repeat, the ensemble elements reconfigure, a terrarium of musical cultivation growing under controlled variables, a tight experiment of harmony & intuition, deep focus & freedom.
For all its varied sonic personality, -Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy- scans immediately & unmistakably as music coming from Jeff Parker‘s unique sound world. Generous in spirit, trenchant & disciplined in execution, Parker’s music has an earned respect for itself & for its place in history that transmutes through the musical event into the listener. Many moods & shapes of heart & mind will find utility & hope in a music that combines the autonomy & the community we collectively long to see take hold in our world, in substance & in staying power.
On the personal tip, this was always my favorite gig to hit, a lifeline of the eremite records Santa Barbara years. Mondays southbound on the 101, driving away from tasks & screens & illness, an hour later ordering a double tequila neat at the bar with the band three feet away, knowing i was in good hands, knowing it would be back around on another Monday. To encounter life at scales beyond the human body is the collective dance of music & the beholding of its beauty, together. —Michael Ehlers & Zac Brenner
Pressed on premium audiophile-quality 120 gram vinyl at RTI from Kevin Gray / Cohearent Audio lacquers. Mastered by Joe Lizzi, Triple Point Records, Queens, NY. First eremite edition of 1799 copies. First 400 direct order LPs come with eremite’s signature retro-audiophile inner-sleeves, hand screen-printed by Alan Sherry, Siwa Studios, northern New Mexico. CD edition & EU x2LP edition available thru our EU partner, Aguirre records, Belgium.
Jeff Parker synthesizes jazz and hip-hop with an appealingly light touch. The longtime Tortoise guitarist has a silken, clean-cut tone, yet his production takes more cues from DJ Premier than it does from a classic mid-century jazz sound. In the early ’00s, when Madlib ushered a boom-bap sensibility into the hallowed halls of the jazz label Blue Note, Parker conducted his own experiments in genre-mashing in the Chicago group Isotope 217, dragging jaunty hip-hop rhythms into the far reaches of computerized abstraction. More recently, Parker enlivened quantized beats and chopped-up samples with live instrumentation, both as leader of the New Breed and sideman to Makaya McCraven. Inverting rap’s longtime reverence for jazz, Parker has gradually codified a new language for the so-called “American art form” with a vocabulary gleaned from the United States’ next great contribution to the musical universe.
Parker’s latest, the live double LP Mondays at the Enfield Tennis Academy, was largely recorded in 2019, while his star as a solo artist was steeply ascending. Capturing a few intimate evenings with drummer Jay Bellerose, bassist Anna Butterss, and New Breed saxophonist Josh Johnson at ETA, a cozy Los Angeles cocktail bar, the record anticipates his 2020 opus with the New Breed, Suite for Max Brown. Yet Mondays amounts to something novel in 2022: It lays out long-form spiritual jazz, knotty melodies, and effortless solos over a slow-moving foundation as consistent as an 808. The results are as mesmerizing as a luxurious, beatific ambient record—yet at the same time, it’s clear that all of this is happening within the inherently messy confines of an improvisatory concert.
Across four side-long tracks, each spanning about 20 minutes, Parker and Johnson trade ostinatos, mesh together, split again into polyrhythmic call-and-response. Butterss commands the pocket with a photonegative of their lead lines, often freed from rhythmic responsibilities by the drums’ relentlessness. Bellerose exhibits a Neu!-like sense of consistency, just screwed down a whole bunch of BPMs. His kit sounds as dusty as an old sample, and his hypnotic rhythms evoke humanizers of the drum machine such as J Dilla or RZA. You could spend the album’s 84-minute runtime listening only to the beats; every shift in pattern queues a new movement in the compositions, beaming a timeframe from the bottom up. Bellerose’s sensitive, reactive playing, though, is unmistakably live. We can practically see the sweat beading on his arm when he holds steady on a ride cymbal for minutes on end, or plays a shaker for a whole LP side.
He begins the understated opener “2019-07-08 I” with feather-soft brush swirls, but on the second cut, he sets Mondays’ stride, as a simple bell pattern builds into a leisurely rhythmic stroll. Thirteen minutes in, the mood breaks. Bellerose hits some heavy quarter notes on his hi-hat; Butterss leans into a fat bassline; saxophone arpeggios, probably looped, float in front of us like smoke rings lingering in the air. It’s a glorious moment, punctuated by clinking glasses and a distant “whoo!” so perfectly placed we become aware of not only the setting, but also the supple knob-turns of engineer Bryce Gonzales in post-production. Anyone who’s heard great improvisation at a bar in the company of both jazzheads and puzzled onlookers knows this dynamic—for some, the music was incidental. Others experienced a revelation.
Lodged in this familiar situation is the question of what such “ambient jazz” means to accomplish—whether it wants to occupy the center of our consciousnesses, or resign itself to the background. The record’s perpetual soloing offers an answer. Never screechy, grating, or aggressive, each performance is nonetheless highly individual. Even when the quartet settles into an extended groove, a spotlight shines on Johnson, Butterss, and Parker in turn, steadily illuminating a perpetual sense of invention. Their interplay feels almost traditional, suggesting bandstand trade-offs of yore, yet the open-ended structure of their jams keeps it unconventional.
Mondays works in layers: Its metronomic rhythms pacify, but the performers and their idiosyncratic expressions offer ample material to those interested in hearing young luminaries and seasoned vets swap ideas within a group. In 2020, Johnson dropped his first record under his own name, the excellent, daringly melodic Freedom Exercise, while Butterss’ recent debut as bandleader, Activities, is one of the most exciting, undersung jazz releases of 2022. Akin to Parker’s early experiments with Tortoise and Chicago Underground, Johnson and Butterss’ recordings both revel in electronic textures, and each features the other as a collaborator. Mondays captures them as their mature playing styles gain sea legs atop the rudder of Parker’s guitar.
The only track recorded after the pandemic began, closer “2021-04-28” sculpts the record’s loping structure, giving retrospective shape to the preceding hour of ambience. In the middle of the song, Parker’s guitar slows to a yawn; the drums pipe down. After a couple minutes of drone, Bellerose slips back into the mix alongside a precisely phrased guitar line strummed on the upper frets, punctuated by saxophone accents that exclaim with the force of an eager hype man. Beginning with a murmur, the album ends with a bracing statement, a passage so articulated that it actually feels spoken.
Mondays drifts with unhurried purpose through genres and ideas, imprinted with the passage of time. The deliberate, thumping clock of its drumbeat keeps duration in mind, and, as with so many live albums, we’re reminded of how circumstances have changed since the sessions were recorded. Truly, life is different than it was in 2019—and not just in terms of world politics, climate change, the threat of disease, or the reality that making a living in music is harder than ever. Seemingly catalyzed by COVID-19’s deadly, isolating scourge, jazz has transformed, hybridized, and weakened tired arguments for musical stratification and fundamentalism. Even calling Mondays a “live” album is a simplification, considering how Parker and other top jazz brains have increasingly availed themselves of the studio—including, in a sparing yet dramatic way, on Mondays.
Near the end of the first track, the tape slows abruptly. The plane of the song opens to another dimension: This set, Parker seems to be saying, can be manipulated with the ease of a vinyl platter beneath a DJ’s fingers. Parker’s latest may be his first live album, but it’s also the product of a mad scientist, cackling over a mixing board. Time is dilated, curated, edited, and intercut, and the very live-ness of a concert recording turns fascinatingly, fruitfully convoluted—even when the artists responsible are four players participating in the age-old custom of jamming together in a room. --Daneil Felsenthal, Pitchfork, 8.4 Best New Music
Turn to Mondays at The Enfield Tennis Academy and you’re in another world. Recorded live (it’s apparently Parker’s first live record) between 2019 and 2021 at a bar in Los Angeles’ Highland Park neighborhood that’s named for the principal setting of David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest(and Parker’s ETA 4tet named, in turn, for the room). As producer Michael Ehlers points out in a press sheet, It is “largely a free improv group —just not in the genre meaning of the term.” Mondays… will include all the things that free improvisation leaves out, modes, melodies, key centres and regular (though often multiple) rhythms; in effect, the musicians are free to include the conventionally excluded.
It’s a kind of perfect opposite of Eastside Romp – clear tunes rarely define a piece, there’s no solo order, actually few solos, no formal beginnings or endings – instead substituting the extended jam for the tight knit composition. It’s a two-LP set, each side an excerpt from a long collective improvisation, a kind of electronic jazz version of hypnotic minimalism with Parker and saxophonist Josh Johnson both employing loops to build up interlocking rhythmic patterns and a kind of floating, layered timelessness, while bassist Anna Butterss and drummer/ percussionist Jay Bellerose lay down pliable fundamentals.
Often and delightfully, it answers this listener’s specific auditory needs, a bright shifting soundscape that can begin in mid-phrase and eventually fade away, not beginning, not ending, like Heaven’s Muzak or the abstract decorative art of the Alhambra. It can sound at times like, fifty years on, Grant Green has added his clear lines to the kind of work that over 50 years ago filtered from Terry Riley to musicians from jazz, rock and minimalism. Though the tunes are described as excerpts, we often have what seem to be beginnings, the faint sound of background conversation and noise ceding to the music in the first few seconds, but the “beginnings” sound tentative, like proposals or suggestions. The most explicit tune here is the slow, loping line passed back and forth between Parker and Johnson that initiates Side C, 2019 May-05-19, the earliest recording here.
The music is a constant that doesn’t mind omitting its beginnings and ends, but it’s also, in the same way, an organism, a kind of music that many of us are always inside and that is always inside us. All kinds of music stimulate us in all kinds of ways, but for this listener, Jeff Parker’s ETA Quartet happily raises a fundamental question: what is comfort music, what are its components, and could there be a universal comfort music? Or is comfort music a universal element in what we may listen for in sound? Modality, rhythmic and melodic figures/motifs, drone, compound relationships and, too, a shifting mosaic that cannot be encapsulated? The thing is, any music we seek out is, in our seeking, a comfort, whether it’s a need for structures so complex that we might lose ourselves in mapping them, or music so random, we are freed of all specificity, but something that may have healing properties.
This is not just bar music, but music for a bar named for art that further echoes in the band’s abbreviated name. Socialization is enshrined here. There’s another crucial fiction, too, maybe closer, The Scope, the bar in Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49 with its “strictly electronic music policy”. Consider, too, the social roots reverberating in the distant musical ancestry, that Riley session with John Cale, Church of Anthrax, among many … or the healing music of the Gnawa … or the Master Musicians of Jajouka with Ornette Coleman on Dancing in Your Head. And that which is most “natural” to us in the early decades of the 21st century? … Jamming, looping, drones…So perhaps an ideal musical state might be a regular Monday night session with guitar, saxophone, loops, bass and drums…the guitarist and saxophonist using loops, expanding the palette and multiplying the reach of time, repeating oneself with the possibility of mutation or constancy. In some long ago, perfect insight into a burgeoning age of filming and recording, Jay Gatsby remarked, “Can’t repeat the past? Why, of course you can!”
We might even repeat the present or the future. --Stuart Broomer,
Reissue of the drop-dead classic album from 1978, Alimantado with Horace Andy, Lee Perry, King Tubby, Gregory Isaacs, Jah Woosh, Jimmy Radwell and Jackie Edwards. Recorded in several sessions, at the Black Ark, Channel One, Randy's and King Tubby's studios, it was the first album put out by Greensleeves, now reissued by the good Dr. himself on his Keyman label. Alimantado's graffiti, daubed round Westbourne Park and Notting Hill back in '78 survived longer than any Banksy could, without a sliver of perspex in sight.
unification of techno and dub reggae. An outstanding universal masterpiece of sound dub/minimal techno released in 1994 by German Mark Ernestus & Moritz von Oswald's Basic Channel, repressed in 2025.
