Carl Maguire - Floriculture

Between the Lines
BTLCHR 71209

I know I’m not alone, especially around here, with having kind of an issue with much new jazz. Had it for a good 15 years, in fact. Simply stated, it’s that I don’t hear very much of it that holds my interest (if it doesn’t, indeed, outright aggravate me). We’ll leave aside the obvious rejoinder that I only hear the tiniest smidgen of what gets released these days, to which I’d reply something like, “Well, yes, but I read tons of postings and reviews by people whose ears I generally respect, many of whom enjoy new jazz, and if something comes along that would possibly float the Olewnick boat, there’s more than a reasonable chance that I’d cotton to it.” Of course, nothing’s so clear cut and things pop up on occasion that come as very pleasant surprises, such as hearing Nicole Mitchell at last spring’s Vision Fest.

Another couple of those all too rare events occurred several years ago when I visited the Old Office at the Knit to hear Carl Maguire’s ensemble, Floriculture. Although the instrumental prowess on display was impressive, I was most taken with the leader’s compositions, finding them (rightly or otherwise) to have tinges of Braxton, Bley (Paul) and Lacy while at the same time, perhaps partly due to Maguire’s distinctive piano style, sounding refreshingly unique. More, there was a kind of rigorous enthusiasm in play that was seriously exciting. The events lingered fondly in my memory.

Now here comes Maguire’s first disc, titled “Floriculture” (which I believe is also still the working name of the group), recorded around the time I caught them, I think (August 2002). While it turns out to sound rather different than my memory of those shows, it’s just as good. The quartet is Maguire on piano, Chris Mannigan on alto, bassist Trevor Dunn and drummer Dan Weiss. The album consists of seven Maguire originals and if I had to give a capsule description of its overall character, I’d say that “Floriculture” is what Bobby Previte might have sounded like if he’d kept on the track established by his early 90s Gramavision and Enja discs (i.e., if his music was still good). But it’s better than that, probably.

One of the salient features of Floriculture’s music that I enjoy very much is its low, thick sound. Maguire’s piano has great resonance, always rich and burbling, Mannigan’s alto is never shrill, skipping over the rhythm section like a flat stone on a lake, while Dunn’s and Weiss’ playing is always anchored, never skittish. “Egocentric” begins with complex, intersecting piano lines (the metrical difficulty in some of these pieces seems to be daunting) that explode into a propulsive and off-kilter group line. You might pick up a bit of Braxton here in the lurching yet obliquely boppish melody but Maguire plays with rhythmic changes in his own manner. In his notes to the composition, Maguire writes that it “pits a static ostinato against a morphing ostinato” which I guess sounds about right. Solos grow out of the piece organically, the non-soling players falling into what appear to be pretty well organized roles; one gets the sense that these are very much compositions, not simply heads and solos (perhaps another reference point is Tim Berne’s dense work from the late 80s). It’s a very dramatic, episodic piece, the group giving way to an intense and spiky piano/bass duo tumbling into a brief, bubbling alto/drums section before thunderous piano chords crash back to the theme. “Denizen Green - for Mark Dresser” is both the longest track and my favorite on the disc. There’s something in Mannigan’s alto work that occasionally reminds me very much of Marion Brown and this little suite, especially its central section, manages to latch on to the wonderful sense of pulse and energy Brown realized on his (criminally neglected) “Sweet Earth Flying”. Weiss’ tom-heavy drumming is a real pleasure here but everyone stands out from Maguire’s excellently placed piano string plucks to Dunn’s growling bass work to, as mentioned, Mannigan’s inspired, antigravitational alto. A strong, lovely, imaginative piece.

If the remaining tracks don’t quite reach these heights for me, there’s a still a passel of enjoyment to be had. “Chamber Social” revisits the general territory of “Egocentric”, a little jumpier and almost as well, while “Subsurface” traces an eerie, sinuous melodic line through various passageways, embroidering it with well-chosen asides. “Ermes Marana – after Italo Calvino” probably goes the furthest outside, teetering here and there but closing with a powerful, bitter kind of chorale that casts new light on the disparate nature of what had come before. The disc eddies to a moving conclusion with “The Nord Lord – for Gabriel” which recalls another Bley—Carla--with its slight Latin-American allusions and heady melancholic feel.

A fine recording, a most impressive band. Check it out.