Urs Leimgruber / Jacques Demierre / Barre Phillips - LDP -- Cologne

Psi 05.03

LDP – Cologne is the followup to this trio’s debut disc, Wing Vane (Victo, 2001), one of my favourite improv discs of recent years. The new one is in many ways just as strong, though it’s certainly a tenser and less user-friendly affair on the whole. This is music where sound and silence cut into each other rather than peacefully co-exist: even small, quiet gestures here have the uncomfortable accuracy of pinpricks. It is not – with a few exceptions – a very loud disc, but these players have a disconcerting ability to lunge towards a moment of violence and almost simultaneously withdraw from it. Add in a laconic sense of humour (a particular speciality of bassist Barre Phillips), and you’ve got a soundworld which for all its stringencies is often extraordinarily rich. Like much of the best improvised music it can seem at once virtuosic and almost naïve in its intentness on the physicality of music-making: the gutbucket slaps and singsong melodies of Barre Phillips’ bass; Urs Leimgruber’s disconsolate chirrups and whimpers; Jacques Demierre’s glancing blows and jabs at the piano. Demierre, the least-celebrated of these improvisers, is especially impressive here: as I discovered at a concert two years ago, he makes use of every possible point of contact with the piano (finger, fist, side and back of hand, wrist, full arm). He generally keeps things light and pointillist, but also can blow the lid off: on “The Rugged Cross” he unleashes a sustained roar that will set your speakers and ears throbbing. All three musicians have been somewhat scarce on disc in the past few years, making LDP – Cologne a genuinely timely release.