Matt Mitchell - vapor squint, antique chromatic

Scrapple Records
scr53412

There’s something afoot down Philly way. Probably has been for a while, of course, but those of us living in or around the world’s only real city need to be hammered over the head a bit to acknowledge the fact. Last year’s fine disc from HZL (Jesse Kudler & Tim Albro) and Chandan Narayan’s exploration of the zither provided the initial infiltration into this listener’s ears. Now comes an intriguing, altogether satisfying disc from pianist/electronicist Matt Mitchell bearing the suspiciously anagram-friendly title, “vapor squint, antique chromatic”.

Mitchell (who Bags devotees may remember from a fine sound-piece, “living husks” posted here a bit over a year ago) has a career as a jazz pianist, playing with the likes of Ravi Coltrane, Ralph Alessi and Josh Roseman but while the piano does poke its nose up a few times during the 45-minute track, there’s nary a whiff of jazz to be found herein. Instead, we’re treated to a vast electronic latticework, a tensile structure possessing both lightness and strength. I get the idea that there’s more “composition” than improvisation at work here but in the sense of an organized accretion and diminution of detail that bears some affinity to the music of earlier electronic composers like Koenig and Raaijmakers. The term “wafer-like” kept entering my head in relation to both the generally light coloration of the music and in the recurring image of one pattern or layer “crumbling” into the next, its airborne particles taking a while to settle. One of the accomplishments of the piece is that, with the exception of a harsher, louder segment toward the middle, it manages to reside in fairly self-similar area with regard to volume, overall texture and activity level while unfailingly holding the listener’s interest. There’s really not a moment, throughout all the burbling, tapping, scratching and general flitting about where you aren’t both enjoying the sonic bath and giddily anticipating what’s to come. That loud section with its whanging and echoey, subaqueous thrashing about brings Xenakis to mind a bit and serves as a kind of cathartic apex for the work. I went back and forth as to whether it was necessary in context (though it’s very fine in and of itself, particularly a ringing, hollow iterative portion) or whether I’d have preferred the entire work to simmer on in steady-state form. Ah well, a bit of drama won’t kill anyone. Eventually, Mitchell allows the semi-solid material seven or eight minutes to sublimate into vapor, ending the piece in lovely, thoughtful fashion.

It’s a really rich, fascinating work, highly recommended, making me mighty eager to hear more.

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