Judging by his track record of recordings, Briggan Krauss' musical thinking often lends itself to the largely pulseless, shifting layers of sound that characterize much contemporary electro-acoustic music. Wayne Horvitz' synth playing fit perfectly into — or, perhaps, guided — this approach on earlier albums, such as "300". Krauss' later solo works, like Descending to End and his Object series, have tended to move further into this electro-acoustic, sound painting approach.
It comes as little surprise, then, that when it came time for Krauss to don his improvising-saxophonist hat, he would gravitate toward a group like H-Alpha. The trio also features Ikue Mori, perhaps the best known among improvisers who have reduced — if that is the word for it — their arsenal to laptop computers. Then there is drummer/percussionist Jim Black, who is also known to perform as a laptopper, and who therefore clearly shares Krauss' and Mori's electronics-friendly aesthetic.
Much of the actual music on Red Sphere, though, may come as something of a surprise. Mori's computer sounds often create stunningly complex and evolving soundscapes, but Krauss' and Black's contributions on this album occasionally seem at odds with this approach. Take the first track for example, "Sun." It starts out with a reasonable sonic balance between the players. Mori initially takes a percussive approach. She and Black burble along and Krauss' sax moans and growls, interweaving with the off-kilter beats in familiar improv territory. Somewhere in the middle, though, Mori's sounds get all but overwhelmed as Black and Krauss dig into a duet of big drums and skronky sax. They eventually back off, and Mori can again be heard.
Part of the problem seems to lie with technical choices in the studio. Krauss' instruments sound a bit too upfront in the mix, as does the drum set, and perhaps more room sound could have made these instruments blend more smoothly with the often echo-y synth sounds. Mori's contributions, in fact, are mixed in a way that makes them seem to arise from a more remote part of the sound space than Black and Krauss. However, it may also be that Krauss' sax playing itself — often more Zorn-like than, say, Evan-Parkeresque — simply lends itself to a more imperfect marriage with laptoppery. The fit with Black's drumming, with its relatively standard kit sounds and tendency toward regular pulses, seems more natural.
The suspicion of a bit of mismatching seems to bear out in some of the other tracks. On "Lalande 21185," for example Krauss' baritone tone is unusual enough that it would seem to lend itself to something like Mori's pointillism. Krauss instead largely stays in dialogue mode, interacting with the laptop as if it were another melodic instrument. Black's rhythmic inclinations seem to exert gravitationally to gradually pull Krauss in, and by the end of the piece Mori is stuck providing a chirping backdrop to another rhythmic sax/drums workout.
In the end, though, the unusual contrast of sounds is interesting in its own right. And there are moments of truly brilliant interaction to offset doubts about how well the grouping works. The second half of the disc features far more of the good stuff. On "EZ Aquarii," for example, the players finally seem to fully coalesce, their sounds merging into single, nuanced mass of sound that erases the egos involved. "Procyon" is another track on which the group seems entirely on the same wavelength and the players sound like they are in the same space. Moments like these are scattered throughout the disc, and are well worth ferreting out.
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Wyman Brantley 2010-02-02
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