Bridge 61 - Journal

Atavistic 172

One of the more recent births in Ken Vandermark’s perpetually populous maternity ward, Bridge 61 betrays some striking similarities to several of its older siblings. Punchy porous charts recall Vandermark’s kinetic writing for the V5 with tightly veering twists and high velocity as trademarks. Nate McBride’s Richter scale bass lines look back to the rocket booster grooves of Spaceways, Inc. The presence of newcomer Jason Stein on bass clarinet brings to mind Vandermark’s raucous pairings with the likes of Mats Gustafsson in the AALY Trio and FJF. Tim Daisy tracks a role comparable to his past projects in the company of Ken, sparking malleable meters with sticks, mallets and brushes. There’s precedence aplenty, but the music still sounds freshly spun and full of brio. Bob Weston’s rock-rooted engineering also adds to the excitement with the instruments recorded hot, but clean.

Vandermark opens the playing field for compositions from his colleagues with a pair apiece from Daisy and McBride and the two make for an uncommonly propitious team that often outshines the horns. “Various Fires” ignites on a tightly repeating riff tethered to McBride’s rapidly percolating ostinato that eventually immolates in a barrage of searing feedback and gritty reed slurs, Daisy sustaining a jackhammer backbeat beneath. Composed with the experimental rock band This Heat as dedicatory recipient and peppered with fast breaks and suspensions, it’s an exhilarating ear-bristling opener. “Superleggera” shows off the bassist’s chops on upright, his strings still carrying the sheath of amplification, but ceding nothing in the way of alacrity or attack. “Nothing’s Open” reminds me vaguely of a Fugazi song, McBride’s electric etching a dub-like funk pattern around which the horns elliptically orbit.

Another draw to the disc is the generous amount of Vandermark baritone on display. In conjunction with Stein’s loquacious reed it makes for a consistently rousing frontline voice, and in the context of the flinty compositions, an even more bracing implement than his customary tenor. Daisy’s crashing cymbal stops mimic the forceful splashing of paint against canvas on “29 Miles of Black Snow,” dedicated to Jackson Pollack. Intensity dips a bit with “A=A/B=B” and first half of the Daisy-scripted “Dark Blue, Bright Red” but both are red herrings to relax the senses for the finale. Title and tagline tip the hand on “Shatter (for Sonny Sharrock)” and the disc ends with a firecracker bang just as it opened. McBride fluctuates between fuzzed-out ferrous riffing and an elastic funk attack. Vandermark leaps into one of his more meteoric R&B-inflected solos, spitting out notes in rhythmic bursts. The provenance of the band’s name remains a mystery, one compounded by the stylish line drawing liner art by Monte Antrim. Whatever the meaning, this music demonstrates no difficulty speaking vehemently for itself.

~ Derek Taylor