Date: August 15, 2013
Venue: Nublu (NY)
Review and photo by Dawoud Kringle
On a late cool August night, Daniel Carter on trumpet, sax, On Davis on guitar, violin, and electronics, Dmitry Ishenko on bass, and Dalius Naujo on drums began the time honored musician’s ritual. Electronic rumbling with indistinct loops and long tones on a muted trumpet tore away the curtain and opened the way for sparse notes from the guitar, drums, and bass. A groove vaguely reminiscent of Miles from the Bitches Brew phase began the guitar played Rhodes-like chords that made one wonder where the keyboardist was.
The drums and bass continued to explore ever changing grooves, the guitar commented on everything that was going on, while the trumpet went where it saw fit; flowing through the dense tapestry like incense smoke.
While the drums and bass inverted the previous groove, Davis did a solo that employed his iconoclastic approach to electric guitar, using one of the most original tones I ever heard. Carter came in, this time on saxophone, and followed the others into another territory.
The groove ended and gave way to a watery ballad. Carter sang laments, while Davis’ guitar, with a less processed tone, smashed stain glass windows and reassembled them in new configurations.
The bass did a solo that invoked the ancient Chinese element of Wood over loops and synth pads that invoked Water.The drums slowly came in from the distance, and stepped into the light, followed by Carter’s saxophone poetry. As this built to a crescendo, it abruptly ended on a most unexpected chord.
The electronics and loops flowed in, softly like a floral perfume. While the drums eased into a best and the bass offered an mbira-like line, Carter’s soprano sax hung a few notes here and there. Davis brought out an electric violin that wept and fought to escape confinement; but never abandoned its loyalty to its musical friends. The ballad turned into a bifurcated chaos, while Carter held on to a somber introspection throughout this maelstrom. It ended as it began.
Once again, the electronics opened the next piece. Davis’ guitar played its jagged, angular harmolodics. The bass locked in with the drums on a quasi-funk grooves that made palindromic inversions of itself. And the tenor sax played the role of elder statesman, solemnly keeping its dignity.
The quartet continued with a brilliant and fascinating trek through an ever evolving and unpredictable musical world. The music, clearly improvised, is musical and cultural treasure that this country failed to notice and appreciate. The skill and creativity this group, and others in the scene, is astonishing. Few people are aware of the immense talent and training required to accomplish what these seasoned veterans did.
This ensemble, this band with no name, is another jewel in a unique necklace, a strong link in a wondrous chain, a petal in a universal lotus.
