Kommando Raumschiff Zitrone - First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

Quincunx
QSR001

Softly strummed acoustic guitar chords, some low, plaintive moans from a clarinet that seem only tangentially related and then…Roberta Flack. Not your typical beginning to a contemporary improv disc. Oh, and the cover as you can see, as well as one of the inside flaps, features a photo of the otherwise not notably involved though quite attractive Marisol Sanchez. Did I mention that the spine and back cover are hot pink? The days of ascetic eai packaging may be numbered. Then there’s Kommmando Raumschiff Zitrone. I mean, wtf? Commander Lemon Spaceship?

The utilization of popular song in a free improv format has always been, for this listener, a double-edged sword. On the one hand, if the tune thus revivified is well-chosen, there’s the pleasant shock of discovering, “Damn, that’s a really nice song!” (especially when embedded in a new, hopefully fascinating context) combined with the undeniable if guilty frisson of pleasure experienced by virtue of the song itself. On the other may be the nagging suspicion that the musicians involved are…cheating, using this piece of candy to sweeten what may otherwise be a bland concoction that, left on its own, might fail to hold interest. I found my opinion, not surprisingly, fluctuating in this regard over the two versions (the last a “reprise”—how cute!) of “Roberta” presented here. Fagaschinski’s clarinet adds a wonderfully bitter and piquant obbligato to Flack’s undeniably gorgeous voice, simultaneously tracking it and offering divergent possible pathways. She lasts only a few minutes before being swallowed by the electronic effluvia and the track (d)evolves for another 8-9 minutes, maintaining the languid and melancholy mood of the original song, Kurzmann’s lloopp software generating rounds of soft organ-like flutters, the reed breathing in and out microtonally. It’s a lovely piece (likewise the reprise) though I sometimes think the lion’s share of the credit goes to the Flack tune for creating the atmosphere; not that it matters.

The four works sandwiched between the Flacks also bear female first names (I’m making an assumption on “Chow”) but don’t, with one brief exception, refer to previously existing songs. “Aisha” and “Irina” are fine if a tad dry, the former a quiet series of clarinet puffs and computerized rumblings that get a bit frantic and sci-fi blippy, the latter also subdued, sparser though with fewer gripping elements than I would like to have encountered. “Marisol”, however, is as attractive as its namesake, a calm though pensive series of distant foghorn-like tones and breathwork from Fagaschinski. But my favorite cut on this disc is “Chow”, lady friend or otherwise. Kurzmann conjures up spare but seemingly vast soundscapes, near-vacant planes inhabited by the odd sizzle and snap, the clarinet in the role of nomad, warily traversing the expanse. Several minutes in, an odd rhythmic figure emerges as well as what sound like distant muted fuzz guitar samples, each contributing to the desert-hallucinatory sense. “Chow” runs 17 minutes, the longest track here, and maintains rapt fascination throughout, the wastes giving way to dual clarinet steam-letting, an old Chinese pop tune, harsher reedwork, and static pulses; strong piece.

As the reprise fades away, I still have a few misgivings dangling around but, hell, it does actually sound pretty great. For the time being, I’d say this popsicle is worth the lick.

quincunx