Music and Recording Reviews

Giovanni Guidi: A New Day
Guidi, piano; three others
ECM 2808 (CD, available as LP). 2024. Manfred Eicher, prod.; Gérard de Haro, eng.
Performance ****½
Sonics ****½

Twenty-five years ago, Giovanni Guidi was a child prodigy. Today he is the best jazz pianist under 40 in Italy. On A New Day, the latest addition to his work on the ECM label, he makes a move no one expected: He brings tenor saxophonist James Brandon Lewis into his world-class trio with bassist Thomas Morgan and drummer João Lobo.

On the one hand, it is not surprising that a leader would want to join forces with Lewis. His profile is in ascendance. His 2021 release Jesup Wagon was Album of the Year in both the DownBeat and JazzTimes critics' polls. On the other hand, Guidi and Lewis seem like such different artists. Guidi is a piano poet whose cup runneth over with spontaneous lyricism. Lewis is known for power and for pushing the envelope.

On A New Day, Lewis becomes an essential contributor to Guidi's world. His power is present but sublimated. It radiates heat like an underground fire. On the opening track, "Cantos del Ocells," all the members of the quartet including Lewis enter with hesitant intrusions on silence. Guidi's forays contain as much silence as music. Morgan's widely spaced strokes, like a bell darkly tolling, deepen the rapt atmosphere. When Lewis finally joins, it is with fervent calls. But even here, he stays within himself. On the open frameworks of Guidi compositions like "Means for a Rescue," Lewis sounds organic within the collective creative process of this ensemble. Ideas emerge and change shape as they are shared. Melodies coalesce in free air then dissolve.

The only standard is "My Funny Valentine." It is effectively the national jazz anthem of Italy. Guidi claims it for his generation. His version, by the trio only, is bold yet reverent. Even as he touches the melody intermittently, only implying the song, he profoundly renders its emotional paradox and its tenderness.—Thomas Conrad

Jordina Millà/Barry Guy: Live In Munich
Millà (piano), Barry Guy (bass)
ECM 2827 (CD). 2024. Manfred Eicher, prod.; Zoro Babel, Ferran Conangla, Christoph Stickel, engs.
Performance ****
Sonics ****

While not typically thought of as related, piano and double bass are both chordophones. They are glued, curved wood with metal wires strung across their frames. All it takes to demonstrate how kindred they can be is a non-hierarchical duo with expert command of extended technique.

British improvising legend Barry Guy was nearly two decades into his expansive career when Spanish pianist Jordina Millà was born. Agustí Fernández, Millà's Catalan compatriot, introduced Millà to extemporaneous playing. She has devoted herself to it since 2017.

Millà and Guy are a luminous pairing. Guy's previous work with Fernández, Howard Riley, Fred Van Hove, Cecil Taylor, Irène Schweizer, and Marilyn Crispell is evoked. In 2021, Guy and Millà recorded a studio album for a Polish label, following it with this concert recording, Guy's 14th appearance on ECM and Millà's first. Both augment their instruments with all manner of preparations, facilitating a panoply of textures and attacks, generating percussive maelstroms and moments where the ear is not exactly sure who is doing what or how. That abstraction is tempered by instances of sublime beauty and delicacy and segments of noirish cinematic narrative.

The concert comprises six pieces, ranging from the opening "Part I," at 22 minutes, to the just-under-four-minute "Part III." Breaking up the proceedings rather than playing continuously for an hour gives Millà and Guy a chance to explore different realms and come to natural conclusions, something often missing in improvisatory settings. This focus makes every part seem just the right length and creates a suite-like feel, reinforced by the after-the-fact titling.

The sound is pristine, allowing every crucial detail—and there are plenty—to be appreciated, from the tenderest gesture to the most explosive cacophony.—Andrey Henkin

Neta Raanan: Unforeseen Blossom
Raanan, tenor saxophone; Joel Ross, vibes; Simón Willson, bass; Kayvon Gordon, drums
Giant Step Arts GSA 12 (CD). 2024. Raanan, Jimmy Katz, prods.; Katz, James Kogan, engs.
Performance ****
Sonics ****½

If record reviewers serve any useful purpose, surely it is to provide the occasional hot tip. So here's one for you: Neta Raanan. The buzz on the street is just starting.

The alto and tenor saxophones are core poles within the jazz art form. It is sometimes said that an alto saxophonist "plays like a tenor," ie, aggressively. Raanan is a tenor saxophonist who tilts toward the alto pole, ie, she is subtle. She has said, "An airy sound came very naturally to me." Raanan's sound is the first thing you notice about her. In a world of macho in-your-face tenors, her tone is fluid. The second thing you notice is the tension between her come-hither sound and her edgy ideas. She is on the way to developing her own saxophone language. She plays startling lines. More often, she plays swirls and waves. She builds solos that juxtapose disparate elements, which she assembles into radical designs. All seven tunes are hers. They introduce the asymmetrical, counterintuitive character of her music, in which all tempos and all song forms are transitory, even before the solos start. When Raanan solos, striking melodies emerge from her unpredictable movements, then spin off fascinating variants and derivatives.

The saxophone/vibraphone literature in jazz is thin but contains important examples like Eric Dolphy/Bobby Hutcherson. Raanan and Joel Ross are kindred free spirits. A vibraphone renaissance is happening in jazz, and Ross is at the center of it. He comps for Raanan in provocative thrusts. He solos in long, sweeping arcs and revelatory digressions. His lingering, hovering meditation on "Melt" is hypnotic.

Unforeseen Blossom is Raanan's debut and also the latest addition to an extraordinary body of engineering work: the live recordings of Jimmy Katz.—Thomas Conrad

Misha Tsiganov: Painter of Dreams
Tsiganov, piano, Rhodes, synthesizer; six others
Criss Cross CRISS 1421 CD (CD). 2024. Tsiganov, prod.; Mike Marciano, eng.
Performance ****
Sonics ****

New York has several dozen first-rate piano players who belong to a loose category—call it the modern jazz mainstream. Misha Tsiganov is one, but he didn't come up in the usual way. He is from St. Petersburg, Russia. His background includes years of classical studies and a degree from the prestigious Mussorgsky College of Music. Tsiganov plays hardcore post bop like he was born to it but with deep conservatory chops and a faint Russian accent.

Painter of Dreams is his fifth strong album on the Dutch label Criss Cross. It is common for leaders to invite big-name guests, but tenor saxophonist Chris Potter, alto saxophonist Miguel Zenón and drummer Johnathan Blake are more than big names. All are at the top of the jazz world on their respective instruments. And they don't sound like visiting guests here. They play like their hair is on fire. On "Elusive Dots," Potter takes the first solo. He throws himself into this metrically ambiguous Tsiganov composition and smokes it. He intensifies the complexity of an already challenging song. On "Long Ago and Far Away," Zenón plays with so much passion you wonder why he didn't save it for his own record. The most astonishing moments come at the end of "April," where Potter and Zenón incite one another into three minutes of sublime joint frenzy. As for Blake, he makes Tsiganov's shifting meters sound easy. He even adds his own nuances.

The other solid players are trumpeter Alex Sipiagin, bassist Matt Brewer and vocalist Hiske Oosterwijk, who sometimes sings a fourth horn part.

We have gotten this far without saying much about the work of the leader. Tsiganov writes intelligent tunes, arranges bold reinterpretations of standards ("I Loves You, Porgy"), and, throughout, answers his true calling, which is to say, he plays his ass off on piano.—Thomas Conrad