Mopomoso Solos 2002

Burn/Coxhill/Minton/Edwards/Russell
Mopomoso Solos 2002
Emanem 4100

It’s one evening at the Red Rose in November of ’02, i.e. fear no hodgepodge buffet v/a. This is improvisation recorded in order of performance. We have Russell, Minton, Minton (really, the first solo delves into the next, a brief ‘sound poem’ of the late Bob Cobbing’s), Edwards, Minton/Russell (their first recorded duo albeit abbreviated, due to the fact that no one could find Lol when it was his turn), Coxhill, Burn and finally the quintet in toto. Thankfully, Coxhill’s introduction to his performance is omitted, Dex notwithstanding.

Russell: Slashing at fresh strings, 7#9 crescendos somehow extemporaneously applied, as the guitarist has already adjusted the tuning during performance (maybe he cheats down to vastopol), it reminds me of that same tactic of Ernst’s apparent about 3:40 into the second bit off Sclavis/Reijseger's Et on ne Parle pas du Temps. . .bluesy/folk, verdant slashing, blunt blade penetrating healthy vine, introducing some different but trusted elements few in European improvisation.

Minton: the breath interludes between the wind-sprint cries, my hearty laughter when he initiates the cry then to a dumbfounded cognizance of each dimension involved, something akin to a Kaw chant I’d heard many dusks in Kansas. . .pendulum dynamics (take that, church bells). It takes about five seconds for the Saturday Night Live giddiness to transubstantiate into silent awe of how it (this man’s voice) is spliced and engineered. Several tones are produced simultaneously. He’s great crack, in entertaining form, and very much divergent from the pretense/bombast of his work with, say, GrubenKlangOrchester (enough Eliot, already). The pauses might be functional, deep inhalation and deep exhalation, but the tension created renders any of that immaterial.

Edwards’ first recorded solo is frighteningly nice; play very loud for maximum but not disingenuous effect. I dig visceral contrabass solos most. Burn’s solo equals the concentration of Edwards’. This isn’t monkfish to Maroney, but a wonderfully diverse set of experiments likened to no one.

Badminton: The quintet begins with Phil sounding as if he had been pounding vodka/prune juice the day of. And when you want to exclaim “Quiet down, quiet down!” the ensemble reduces itself thoughtfully with grace, Burn much in the background and the bassist furtively at the wheel, quiet. Each musician poses a frustrating question with the first couple minutes, only for the collective to answer as the interplay descends.

Two bullshit mantles I assume when approaching Emanems of this ilk: Burn, Coxhill and Minton don’t garner much critical deification, deification which seems abundant and doesn’t stand for anything. Next, wading shallowly, Emanem lineups seem far too incestuous and that deducts some interest out of the gate, but this one works, for the most part. Semper fidelis keeping it fresh with Pan Davidson.

~Michael Schaumann