Doomsday Jazz: The End Times Improvisations of Oren Ambarchi and Ches Smith

The majority of Earth-bound humans would opt for one of two obvious courses of action should they be given sufficient warning the end is nigh.  Some might choose bacchanalian indulgence and lawless decadence.  Ches Smith has them covered.

Interpret It Well, the unsettling new album by the innovative percussionist, conveys the sense of nausea induced by existential excess.  Three distinguished accomplices- violist Mat Maneri, guitarist Bill Frisell and pianist Craig Taborn- enable Smith’s queasy course.

Even idealistic listeners are likely to associate Ghosted with abhorrently riveting experiences such as driving past a ghastly car accident or spending Saturday night in the waiting room of an overtaxed emergency room.

Preparing for destruction will inspire others to summon a higher power.  The inventive guitarist Oren Ambarchi’s hypnotic new album with bassist Johan Berthling and percussionist Andreas Werliin might serve as a nonsectarian hymn.  

The successful melding of Malian folk music, the Islamic adhan, Indian classical music and Terry Riley-style minimalism suggests that Ghosted is the ultimate rarity: a good “world music” album.  In truth, the trio creates interstellar jazz.

Two extraordinary music videos interpret the differing apocalyptic perspectives.  Ambarchi’s "II" consists of everyday scenes of nature.  "Protect Your Home", a short film depicting literal doomsday scenarios, is set to the title track of Interpret It Well.

Concert Review: Little Joe y La Familia at the Guadalupe Center

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

I dragged my decrepit carcass to the Guadalupe Center to catch Little Joe Hernández on Saturday, May 7.  The fond memory of a 2019 concert compelled me to overcome crippling fatigue.  The extraordinary energy of the 81-year-old known as The King of the Brown Sound reinvigorated my body and soul. In truth, my disposition revived even before Little Joe y La Familia performed.  Joining the approximately 1,500 cheerful revelers at the free street festival was therapeutic.  Supported by an elite eight-piece band and filled with feisty humor, Hernández made bawdy asides and chided the members of the audience who remained seated. Like Hernández, I couldn’t understand how people resisted joining me at the front of the stage. Hearing potent renditions of hits from 57 years ago by the original artist always represents an irresistibly bewitching opportunity to travel through time and space.

Concert Review: The Lyric Opera of Kansas City’s "Tosca" at Muriel Kauffman Theatre

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

I didn’t know what to make of the lovely family seated near me in the cheap seats of Kansas City’s splashy opera house on Friday, May 7.  After witnessing scenes of torture, attempted rape, murder and suicide in Giacomo Puccini’s provocatively melodramatic 1900 opera “Tosca,” two perfectly behaved little girls in matching dresses and their doting parents walked out of the Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts as if they’d just taken in a showing of Disney on Ice.

The Lyric Opera of Kansas City’s production rattled me.  “Tosca” was the first professional opera I’d experienced in-person since 2019.  As documented extensively at this site, I came to opera late in life.  I immersed myself in the form during the pandemic.  When I finish watching the Hungarian State Opera’s mesmerizing new four-hour rendering of Richard Wagner’s “Parsifal,” I’ll have taken in 303 online operas in the past two years.

The initiative altered my expectations. Having seen Luciano Pavarotti play the ill-fated painter Mario Cavaradossiin in two filmed productions of “Tosca,” my standards are now unreasonably high. Only Marina Costa-Jackson’s turn in the title role didn’t disappoint me last night. Other positives: the Kansas City Symphony was electrifying, the lighting was excellent and the informal banter among patrons in the peanut gallery was refreshing.

Album Review: Pavement- Terror Twilight: Farewell Horizontal

I was never entirely sold on Pavement during the band’s 1990s heyday.  I loved college radio staples like “Range Life” but roughly half of the band’s deeper cuts irritated me.  I was suspicious of Pavement’s ironic sensibility and its affinity for jam band aesthetics.

My affection for all 161 minutes of Terror Twilight: Farewell Horizontal, the new expanded version of Pavement’s 1999 album, indicate I’ve become substantially less stodgy.  It helps that I’m now able to recognize primary songwriter Stephen Malkmus’ channeling of literary titans like Don DeLillo while he and his band mates noodle.

“Major Leagues” and “Spit on a Stranger” have aged into a bespoke form of classic rock while the skepticism I once felt for tracks like “Speak, See, Remember” has been replaced with unqualified admiration. Besides, the knowing smirk that once annoyed me now seems like the only appropriate affectation for indie-rock musicians.

Album Review: LeVelle- My Journey Continues

An atrocious new recording by a Kansas City vocalist temporarily poisoned the well for locally based R&B in my compound. Auditioning LeVelle’s album was delayed to allow my ears and mind sufficient time to recover. I needn’t have waited. Where the unnamed project is amateurish, uninspired and dull, LeVelle’s My Journey Contines is professional, invigorating and exciting. The silky Kansas City vocalist is joined by the neo-soul giant Anthony Hamilton on the grown-and-sexy single "Fell In Love". The remainder of the album is almost as good. Not only is My Journey Continues the strongest (non-jazz and non-classical) album by a Kansas City artist released in the first four months of 2022, it has the capacity to cleanse the memory of many unpleasant experiences.

April 2022 Recap: A Monthly Exercise in Critical Transparency

Screenshot from the trailer of the Metropolitan Opera’s staging of Terence Blanchard’s “Fire Shut Up in My Bones” by There Stands the Glass. PBS broadcast the opera on April 1.

Top Ten Albums (Released in April, excluding 4/29 titles)

1. Pusha T- It’s Almost Dry

The trio of Kanye, Pharrell and King Push is an unbeatable dream team.

2. Gerald Clayton- Bells on Sand

My review.

3. Billy Woods- Aethiopes

Highbrow hip-hop.

4. Tord Gustavsen Trio- Opening

My review.

5. Myra Melford- For the Love of Fire and Water

The pianist leads a free jazz supergroup.

6. Joel Ross- The Parable of the Poet

Palpably spiritual jazz.

7. Mitsuko Uchida- Beethoven: Diabelli Variations

My review.

8. Sault- Air

My review.

9. Cole Swindell- Stereotype

My review.

10. Vince Staples- Ramona Park Broke My Heart

Understated excellence.


Top Ten Songs (Released in April)

1. Miranda Lambert- "Actin' Up"

Call the cops.

2. Kaitlin Butts- "She's Using"

Codeine dreams.

3. Christian Nodal- "Aguardiente"

Poison.

4. Bonnie Raitt- "Love So Strong"

Kombucha for the soul.

5. Horace Andy- "Watch Over Them"

Reggae lion in winter.

6. Anitta featuring Chencho Corleone- "Gata"

The cat’s pajamas.

7. Young M.A.- “Tip the Surgeon”

Bloody.

8. Doechii- "Crazy"

Time to get right with God.

9. Lele Pons and Kim Loaiza- "Piketona"

Clubbed.

10. Making Movies- "Sala de los Pecadores"

Den of sin.


Top Ten Performances of April

1. Joyce DiDonato at the Folly Theater

My review.

2. Daniil Trifonov at the Folly Theater

My review.

3. Drew Williams, Ben Tervort and Brian Steever at Westport Coffee House

My review.

4. Babehoven at Farewell

My Instagram clip.

5. Kwan Leung Ling, Evan Verploegh and Ben Baker at Charlotte Street Foundation

My Instagram clip.

6. Ducks Ltd. at the Green House

My Instagram clip.

7. Maul at Vivo

My Instagram clip.

8. Tyrone Clark, Charles Gatschet and Taylor Babb- Green Lady Lounge

The venue’s all-originals policy is paying off.

9. Jeff Harshbarger Quartet at the Blue Room

Standards deviations.

10. A Pile of Dead Horses at 7th Heaven

Fargo noise.



Last month’s survey is here.

Concert Review: Daniil Trifonov at the Folly Theater

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

Possession of a deeply discounted ticket for Daniil Trifonov’s April 24 concert at the Folly Theater helped sustain me in the bleakest moments of the pandemic.  I’d been looking forward to the pianist’s twice-rescheduled recital for a long time.  I can’t speak for others in the audience of about 700, but the misguided calls for a boycott- Trifonov was born in Russia- meant nothing to me.

The first half of the concert exceeded my lofty expectations.  The 45-minute free-for-all was the most exciting performance I’ve heard in 2022.  Hunched over the piano and panting heavily, Trifonov lurched as if he was enduring electrical shocks during a rendering of Karol Szymanowski’s discordant Sonata No. 3, Op. 36.

Trifonov then teased out unexpectedly jarring aspects of Claude Debussy’s Pour le piano L. 95.  Even better was a riotous interpretation of Sergei Prokofiev’s avant-garde Sarcasms, Op 17.  The pianist’s revelatory approach implied the three composers anticipated the subsequent innovations of Pierre Boulez, John Cage and Cecil Taylor.

I correctly anticipated the second half of the concert- Johannes Brahms’ Piano Sonata No. 3- would be a letdown.  My indifference to Brahms remains intact even though Trifonov invested everything he had into the work.  As he sweat profusely while abusing a piano bench, I contemplated my good fortune to be seated 20 feet from one of the world’s foremost musicians.

Album Review: Cole Swindell- Stereotype

Kenny G’s warbling on seasonal melodies wafted from a neighbor’s open windows on an unseasonably warm Christmas five months ago.  I was glad to learn of the household’s apparent admiration of the saxophonist’s interpretations of material like “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” and “Silver Bells.”

It’s going to be 80 degrees at 5 p.m. this Friday evening.  As in summers past, I’m likely to hear plenty of classic rock (Journey, Led Zeppelin, REO Speedwagon) and blooze (Joe Bonamassa, Marcus King, Stevie Ray Vaughan) blasting from speakers balanced on coolers in nearby backyards and driveways.

Yet the dominant sound on my suburban block is contemporary country (Jason Aldean, Eric Church, Carrie Underwood).  I’ve favored crossover reggaeton on my patio during the pandemic (J Balvin, Bad Bunny, Karol G), so neighbors will likely be surprised when I place Cole Swindell’s new album on repeat tonight.

In no small part because my heart skips a beat every time my life partner sings along with Swindell on radio hits like "Single Saturday Night", I’m unironically enamored with the aptly named Stereotype. Songs including "Heads Carolina" are what I call “White Claw country.“ The formula is delicious. Fitting in rarely felt so good.

Album Review: Tim Kasher- Middling Age

An adult child’s request for a missing government document encumbered me to dig through boxes of yellowing report cards, fading photos and tear-stained funeral programs.  Surveying the ephemera accumulated over a lifetime is an increasingly grim task.  My inability to identify many of the deceased ancestors posing in photos is a stark reminder of my own insignificance.

Tim Kasher sorts through a similar set of “maudlin mementos” on "I Don't Think About You", a song on his volatile new chamber rock album Middling Age.  The compositions reflecting the melancholic wisdom attained through aging resonate with me more than his work in the indie-rock band Cursive ever did.

“You Don’t Gotta Beat Yourself Up About It” opens with Kasher admitting “I don’t want to be forgotten/I don’t know why this is so important to me.”  Kasher concludes by suggesting “​​This is my life's work: questioning my worth/So what have I surmised? Life's work and then you die.”  The end gets closer every day.

Album Review: Sault- Air

The infuriating baptism sequence in “Fire Shut Up in My Bones” is among my favorite scenes in Terence Blanchard’s heart-rending 2019 opera.  I’m haunted by the Metropolitan Opera’s staging broadcast by PBS on April 1.

Neither have I stopped thinking about the Latin vespers presented by the Kansas City choral group Te Deum in a drafty Episcopal church last July.  And just last week I discovered Claude Debussy’s proses lyriques and attended a Joyce DiDonato and Il Pomo d’Oro concert.  

All of which is to say I was unwittingly primed for Sault’s new album Air.  Far removed from the previous output of the anonymous collective, Air is a symphonic choral suite that synthesizes much of my recent listening.

In addition to the music cited above, Air’s expanse nods to Carl Orff’s “Carmina Burana,” the holy minimalism of Arvo Pärt, Brian Wilson’s pop orchestrations and Kanye West’s Sunday Service celebrations. Sing it, my nameless brothers and sisters!