Lou Gare - No Strings Attached (Matchless)

In the recent Topography of the Lungs thread on this site, some discussion about Lou Gare and his role in early AMM music caught my interest, leading me back to listen to this solo disc with revitalized historical curiosity. I was surprised by what I heard, as I was when I first received it several months ago. It’s deeply resonant listening on many levels, and repetition brought clarity for me.

I have never heard Gare play solo before, and to my knowledge, this is the first disc under his name. His approach to soloing is centered—meditative, endlessly alert to every dynamic and articulative detail; I have also never heard anyone play tenor with a sound quite like his, and the closest I can come to worthwhile comparison involves a mixture of Don Byas’ fluid lightness and Coleman Hawkins’ warm phrase endings, vibrato and sudden bursts of raw power.

Such historical precedents say nothing about the material, which thrives on the reiteration of scalar and melodic fragments that seem to unfold over glacially slow but unheard changes—detached harmonic areas rather than established tonalities or modalities. Some recur; some disappear, especially over the 20 minutes of the title track, occasionally augmented by “New Thing” cries, multiphonic honks, swells and shudders that never cross the boundaries of taste.

There is fire here, but it’s a cold, slow burn, the spaces between utterances and the live acoustic on much of the disc reminding me of environmentally produced dissonances in recent Aquatanian polyphony recordings. Speed and agility, while occasionally stunning, are never a primary concern. I am unable to avoid hearing something aged in the playing, and as much as I’ve tried to put it down to my respect for the artist, all five tracks insist on breathing some nostalgia into every listen. I never would have expected it from a member of one of the most innovative groups the 1960s produced, but it is presented without pretense. I am left with the impression that the playing is never meant to make any further statement than existence. It is one of the most personal and intimate discs I’ve heard in some time, and I love it all the more for that.

~ Marc Medwin