The search for a higher state aka enlightenment aka bodhi, Nirvana, Illuminism etc. is an abstruse quest; supposedly the journey, not the destination, matters — but which road to take? Some find comfort from faith in unseen / unheard deities, others climb dizzying mountains (lack of oxygen will make you see and feel a lot). Some retire to a monastery, working with bees and limiting speech to heighten awareness of a "bigger picture". Others prefer to hunker down in a woodsy cabin with conversation and mood-altering substances.
Evan Parker manages this communion via soprano saxophone and, in the case of this album, St. Peter's Church in Whitstable (his favorite recording location). And like the divine adept who claims to struggle with perfection (I'm pretty sure Parker already "arrived" in 1980 with Six of One) yet emanates an attracting holy light, Parker reciprocates his findings ten-fold to his audience.
A play by play description of Parker's solo work seems pedantic at this point, though be assured that this disc delivers exactly the type of music you expect. The man loosens himself from the shackles of right vs. left brain thought, becoming "one with the work, not judging it" (Parker's recent words concerning a successful performance); his fluid technical virtuosity, paired against boundless creative bursts — all fueled with inconceivable physical stamina — cement his title as one of the greatest performers in the history of the instrument (if you are not aware of his rapid-fire, circular breathing technique, his ability to attack a phrase, squeezing it from birth to death, shattering the corpse only to patch the pieces into a new shape, or his trademark talent to overwhelm with such extreme that the listener's mind moves to meditation, you may consult one of many lengthy essays that detail the dissection of his every gesture).
Poet Harry Gilonis was in attendance for the concert and wrote a fitting bullet-point stanza observation for the liner notes: "a breath of air / branches like trees, lighting / small increments of change; heard sound / climbs / as song ramifies, and, speaking, sees... patterns dying / that don't give satisfaction. / they were so clear, those first strophes." etc. He further mentions "accretive, plus evolving, fast or slow" (after fifteen minutes of pounding, Parker begins a skein of wind up / down tempo maneuvers, garnering intrigue with suddenly spacious, slinky lines), "polyphonies" (the ratio of chirps to notes, when played in mercurial succession, gives the impression of many hands at work), "broken airs (tunes) exchanged;" (the distinct intervals that make up, among other things, The Simpson's theme, borrowed, mangled, exploited), "modulations range" and "the familiar strange" (for the introduction of the fourth movement, the saxophonist fingers a series of major chords, then "bends" them into slightly vertiginous, Doppler shifting microtonality).
Gilonis concludes:
plainly
it's marvelous
hurtling prestissimo —
endings're endings —
scarce time for introspection.
An amen seems in order.
-
Dave Madden 2010-07-14
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