Toshimaru Nakamura/Lucio Capece - Ij

Formed
106

This one crept up on me. At first blush, its cool, relaxed nature conformed more or less to what I might have expected from this duo going in (not a bad thing!) but concentrated listens revealed--I shouldn’t be surprised--additional layers of subtlety, more of them each time through.

Two longish pieces, Nakamura wielding his trusty nimb, Capece on soprano saxophone and bass clarinet (each subject to “preparations”). The sounds themselves, by now, run along contours we’ve come to expect: electronic crackles and hums with a softly rhythmic character from Nakamura, reeds-as-breath-funnels from Capece; it’s not the novelty of the sounds that ultimately impresses but their placement, their mutual accommodation sculpted in consistently imaginative and playful ways. Most of the conversation is at a low volume level though there’s always the lurking eventuality of a raucous squawk to keep things honest. The music percolates near the start, each musician quietly gabbing, racing in tiny, delicate circles around each other, the communication rapid fire but deft, no stepping on toes. The first piece morphs imperceptibly from its polite onset to a much nastier interchange, Nakamura coaxing corrosive, bitter tones from his board, Capece migrating to the purer, though no less abrasive region of his soprano. It’s a marvelous subsection, a side of town I’d hope they visit more often.

The second track begins harshly but soon settles into a lovely, quiet area, sounding like nothing so much as a marshland in the evening, albeit interrupted on occasion by steam exhaust from the local factory. There’s more of a concentration on held tones here, sometimes very close in pitch, here and there attaining an overt level of expressiveness not generally encountered in this genre. Difficult to avoid while keening on a saxophone, I imagine, but whatever the case, Capece pulls it off without the slightest feeling of having used it as a “crutch”. Again, the piece ebbs into near silence, a fine section of muted squeaks, before the bass clarinet makes its first appearance and a series of intertwining drones emerge, Capece ultimately finding himself in quasi-didgeridoo territory during a rapturous several minutes toward the end of the improv where the rhythmic aspect that earlier poked out its head reasserts itself more prominently. Wonderful, rich stuff right here.

Always enjoyable, occasionally spectacular, “Ij” is one of the better discs I’ve heard in the last few months.

formed