Few have an edge on Paul Flaherty when it comes to cultivating the visage of a free jazz eremite. From a sagely Santa Claus beard that easily surpasses that of fellow fringe dweller Joe Maneri, to a gnomic countenance that conveys communal connection with his horns, Flaherty presents the persona of someone for whom commitment to his art is total. Those isolationist impulses receive free rein on Whirl of Nothingness, a hermetic collection of solo improvisations for alto and tenor that dives deep into the saxophonist’s creative reservoir and reveals a startling probability: that he arguably works best in the company of others.
The disc’s eight tracks carry titles spun from poetic esoterica; the program dedicated in sum “to all the victims yet to come...” and steered by a devotion to God. Flaherty’s sovereignty over his horns is instantly in evidence, but it also retains a primitive power in parity with the likes of Brötzmann and Gayle, points of comparison that have been made before and feel just as apt here. The hard-trilling vibrato-fueled blasts on “Compassion Lost and Found Again” provide the first of many examples of the kinship. Flaherty has a well-earned propensity for ear excoriating noise, the sort of horn savagery that devours defenseless reeds by the boxful. But like Joe McPhee, he also recognizes the value in a chimerical approach to tone and attack; blowing full bore to marathon lengths becomes boring fairly quick. Snatches of pained melody regularly surface amidst the strangled cries and harsh reed violence, creating contrasting fields of levity and severity that make the pieces much more than cursory exercises in how to test the limits of his lungs and horns. “Firetrance Lonely Heartache Still” starts with just such a mellifluous strain, swiftly hardening into a barrage of bluesy multiphonics that again brings the mustachioed German to mind in its embrace of the most strident horn vernacular.
As bracing and often brilliant as the improvisations are, the absence of a foil eventually becomes a nagging concern. Flaherty exorcising demons in isolation makes for potent music, but sans the sounding board of others, the introspective elements of the program begin to weigh heavily by the second half. Privy to the precision altissimo flutters on “Sweetly Danced in Times of Hurtful Pleasure” I found myself perversely hoping for the entrance of a Corsano snare roll or cymbal shot to kick things into an even higher gear. Late in the set, Flaherty hints at a possible similar discontent with his horns as his only companions, pulling the mouthpiece from his lips and letting loose with a spate of vocal howls. Personal preferences aside, this disc delivers on its promise of presenting Flaherty’s solo art in persuasive totality, one that stands proudly on par with those past platters of his peers.
~ Derek Taylor
Posted by derek on December 2, 2006 6:11 AMA wild album!! I'm loving it more and more each time I spin it....
Posted by: Tom Sekowski at December 2, 2006 1:09 PMFlaherty is one of my favorite sax players, and while I too prefer him in group settings, this is a fine effort. In fact, I prefer most anyone in at least duo settings, but that's just me.
Posted by: acidflower at December 5, 2006 1:59 PMI had the opportunity to hear this album a little while back, and, although the link with Brotzmann is clear from the outset (I'm a huge fan of Brotz), something about this disc just doesn't work. This is the first disc of Flaherty's I've heard and something about it just feels overwhelmingly depressing. After listening to the whole thing through I had to stop myself curling up into a little ball of melancholy and crying myself into troubled sleep (ok maybe that's a little exaggerated, but not much). I wondered if he's like this all the time, or if in a group he's a little more positive (like Brotzmann. Brotzmann I find incredibly joyous and positive and energy-giving.)
Posted by: Massimo Magee at December 26, 2006 9:58 PMIt's certainly not the disc to start with, Massimo. The duo stuff with Chris Corsano should be more up your alley - try The Hated Music (Ecstatic Yod) or The Beloved Music (Family Vineyard). Or, if you want a larger ensemble, The Ilya Tree (Boxholder) or Cold Bleak Heat (that's the band name, not the album) also on Family Vineyard.
See what you mean about the pain etc (what do you expect from reading those liner notes?!) - but I was listening to Brotzmann's 1976 Solo on FMP just yesterday (guess where I downloaded that from, heh heh) and some of that is pretty gut wrenching stuff. Joyous & energy giving all right, but that Brotzmann sense of humour has never quite had me falling off my seat..
ah right, thanks. I saw The Beloved Music in the shop down the street from me so maybe I'll try that. You mention the Brotzmann sense of humour..that's a whole new can of worms. It's always sat well with me, because I consider it like Ayler's folk tunes and marches (you know those times, when he'd break from some gospel-march-stomp straight into that special kind,of screaming freedom he had - listen to that in a funny light and some people could take it as farce) I don't look at it that way - just as straightforward honest joy. Brotzmann gives me that same sense, or at least it comes across that way. When he plays blues phrases, it certainly sounds honest, that's for certain, but even in the other times, like on Eine Kleine Marschmusik from that first solo LP (thank you Church Number Nine!), when he breaks into the piano, you could take it as a superficial joke piece - Brotzmann playing straight piano! - but I think it's a little more than that if you peel back the top layer. For a start, it has that continuous, steady rhythm which is very reminiscent of a Greenwich-Village-Era Ayler tune, and it's simple in that same honest, joyous way. He's also got that super-stripped-down passage for just one hand, which In a way I guess points to the particular incarnation of freedom found in most multi-instrumentalists. It's like he's saying "sure, I play reeds, but if I want to I can play piano. Or Guitar. Or Drums. Or sticks and stones, whatever" Ayler alluded to that too with his bagpipes, don't forget. It's something which I've been considering a lot lately, because just recently I recorded an improvisation on tenor sax, clarinet, piano, Dragon Horn, Didgeridoo, Ocarina, Bird Caller,Magnets,Bottle, Radio and a Tape of my earliest recorded improvisations and CD of a more recent improvisation, which is not something I'd tried before. normally I just play tenor, but after reading some of the things Ayler said about freedom being 'a conquest hich must each time be undertaken over again' and rereading Derek Bailey's great book (that great observation 'whatever skill is needed is whatever is available') I thought it might be a way to reach that kind of straightforward honest joy, and I think it worked! Sorry to ramble a bit, but that Brotzmann humour thing is a big issue.
Posted by: Massimo Magee at December 26, 2006 11:04 PMDan wrote:
"I was listening to Brotzmann's 1976 Solo on FMP just yesterday (guess where I downloaded that from, heh heh)"
from Church Number Nine? pity the files now seem to be deleted..
Posted by: David Bauwens at December 27, 2006 7:28 AMYeah, I think the Nothing Is blog has also mysteriously disappeared too.. Bummer - but if at least it sends a message to the Powers That Be that there is a potential market for a proper reissue, it's all for the best. I've spent all day listening to my Church 9 burns - a Noah Howard fest, for the most part - but it took a bit of cleaning up & editing in Sound Forge to cut out the blips and fade in and fade out. The Nothing Is downloads are especially dodgy. But we shouldn't complain.
Some of my favorite moments of Brötz humor (even if it was an octet) are the two swing riffs/transitions in "Machine Gun", especially the second one that sounds like Illinois Jacquet in JATP. Couldn't believe my mind the first time I heard them.
Posted by: Gerardo Alejos at December 27, 2006 10:45 AM"When you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you." This famous line of Nietzsche should make up the warning label on every Paul Flaherty disc!
Flaherty's incessant saxophone sound-fire brings us face to face with Nihil in a manner that is so direct it is indeed almost overwhelming! The angels fear to tread, yes, but old nameless deities are present -- none that would think to comfort us, but thank Santa, this music somehow turns out to be an extraordinay gift not only to the ears but to Being. Bravo to Mr. Flaherty for making such exquisite and difficult art!
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