Jaimie Branch Fly or Die, Garbage Boy/Qwizzzz Split Series Vol. III
Jaimie Branch
Fly or Die
(International Anthem)
A Chicago-to-NYC transplant, trumpeter Jaimie Branch unleashed her quartet last year in Brooklyn as part of a showcase, because she “wanted New York to hear what Chicago sounds like.”
One irony of NYC is that it can be simultaneously invitingly cosmopolitan yet also solipsistic, sometimes being self-absorbed and dismissive, and Branch’s debut album as a bandleader, Fly or Die, is an impressive offering that should make open-minded jazz aficionados from New York (or elsewhere) prick up their ears.
Branch recorded Fly or Die in a Brooklyn apartment with her formidable ensemble that includes drummer Chad Taylor (of the Chicago Underground Duo), bassist Jason Ajemian and cellist Tomeka Reid, and the live recordings were enhanced with overdubs, studio manipulation and also some disparate musical punctuation, in the form of gentle acoustic guitar interludes from Matt Schneider.
The ensemble works incredibly well together, as demonstrated on “Theme 001,” featuring an earworm head melody; the musicians are firing on all cylinders, with Taylor’s insistent, engaging and nimble drumming and Branch’s fluttering that is the aural equivalent of a barnstorming pilot—wild yet in control.
There’s something interesting going on in the bass register, with Ajemian and Reid plucking and bowing and generating uncertain textures that alternate between frolicking and aggressive.
“Theme 002” is downright joyous and playful, with pizzicato cello notes sometimes mirroring the bass yet sometimes straying; Taylor stimulates with his swiftly alternating rim and hi-hat taps, and Branch erupts sustained trumpet tones that modulate in strange ways.
“Leaves of Glass” primarily uses horns, with a little studio wizardry, offering an echoing, bright yet chilling fanfare with induced anxiety, and “The Storm” offers a mist of mystery, with bowed strings, trumpet bleats, descending frequencies and turbulence that gives way to a thick mire.
Jaded jazz fans should take notice of this striking debut album, which would appeal to fans of Rob Mazurek, Wadada Leo Smith and eccentric, mischievous and evocative new-realm jazz.
Garbage Boy/Qwizzzz
Split Series Vol. III
(Orange Milk)
When it comes to great music about blobs, there’s the cute 1958 theme song of the sci-fi film The Blob (written by Burt Bacharach and Mack David), and, well, uh, that’s all that comes to mind. There might not be such a long, rich history about blob-related music, but we can add the new split cassette/digital album Split Series Vol. III to the list.
With two long tracks, one each from Garbage Boy from Denver, Colo. (not to be confused with the New Orleans band with the same name) and the even more mysterious Qwizzzz, the album allegedly tells an odd tale of a sentient blob that oozes down a staircase before shrieking and passing away. In the second part, aliens pick up the dead blob and then have a dance party on their spaceship.
The first track, “Tenchun” by Garbage Boy, apparently had already been released earlier this year, confusingly, on the album Kinku under the name Tenshi, and it’s a gloriously messy and over-stimulated track.
Among the layers that comprise this amorphous, sonic blob are electronic tones, uneasy clatters, ambient strata, disturbing vocal sounds (like coughs, heavy breathing and other vaguely human yet wordless utterances) and treble-heavy aural icicles.
Qwizzzz’s contribution, “suuuun Four,” unlike “Tenchun,” uses patterns, loops and rhythms to push the track along, among glistening and cluttered synthetic sounds. Eventually, some serene, yet unsettling vocals appear as the piece thins out to a more minimal electronic approach, afflicted with glitches and sound manipulation. On the home stretch, dominating beats compete with tranquil singing, experiencing a manic and crazed episode before a more reserved, elegiac ending.
It’s quite possible that the whole “blob” album concept was created after these two pieces were recorded, but nevertheless, it’s a wild ride that works. Durable art can stand to be reused and re-contextualized.
And to paraphrase a Brian Eno quote, you can shoot your arrow, then draw the bullseye where it lands.