Everest. Kilimanjaro. Fuji. Some mountains simply should be climbed, it doesn’t matter what. Blind Willie Johnson’s “Darkish Was The Night time, Chilly Was The Floor” is a bit like that. The guitar-playing preacher’s 1928 gospel-blues masterpiece looms massive, and loads of guitarists (notably Ry Cooder and Jack Rose) have contended with it. Whereas their efforts usually lead to nice music, the mountain by no means will get any smaller. So, give this pan-European jazz trio credit score for taking up a stern problem; its efficiency of the tune opens this 10-inch document, which was recorded at Steve Winwood’s Wincraft Studio in rural England.
Samuel Blaser, it should be stated, isn’t shy about taking up challenges. (Full disclosure: I’ve written liner notes for some digital releases that Blaser put out throughout COVID time.) He’s sought out ongoing working relationships with a few of jazz’s nice drummers (Paul Motian, Pierre Favre, Gerry Hemingway), tailored opera themes to improvised music and used his trombone to conduct a solo audio tour of the Funkhaus, Berlin’s historic recording-studio complicated. Blaser is up for a problem. He and the remainder of his trio—French electrical guitarist Marc Ducret and Danish drummer Peter Bruun—acquit themselves effectively by strolling a slender path bounded by religious constancy and inventive interpretation. Ducret’s opening, fuzz-encrusted chords are appropriately grave, and Bruun stokes a gradual boil whereas Blaser’s muted horn walks the unique’s melody alongside a path of tears.
The remainder of the document (4 tracks on vinyl, plus two longer performances accessible by way of obtain) returns the trio to the extra acquainted unknown of spontaneous co-creation. Blaser, Ducret and Bruun slalom by means of “Hook” like bandits on skis, slicing a method and one other with out ever dropping contact with each other. “Intro” makes a robust case for the ensemble’s skeletal lineup by displaying the malleability of empty area with each low growl or stuttering apart. The threesome delves into terse interaction on the longer, download-only tracks, sounding intently engaged and unstable on “So” and languid however fastidiously balanced on “The Different View.” The choice to document in Winwood’s studio, which doubles as a rehearsal soundstage, pays off by rendering Ducret’s various tones and Bruun’s spare commentary in delicate element. [Blaser Music]
—Invoice Meyer
