Quiet Earth

Album review

With 2019's Reverence, Ibiza-based saxophonist and composer Muriel Grossmann sought to explore the connections between the spiritual jazz tradition and its antecedent roots in African music. To realize this, she expanded her quartet -- guitarist Radomir Milojkovic, bassist Gina Schwarz, and drummer Uros Stamenkovic -- to include Hammond organist Llorenç Barceló. The B-3's textural, tonal, and rhythmic possibilities added dimension to the group's already expansive approach to groove and explorations. Quiet Earth offers proof of Barceló's complete integration. It contains four long compositions. Two, "African Call" and the title cut, are new, hopeful, creative responses to the crises facing humanity and the environment in the 21st century. The other two are re-visioned versions of "Wien" and "Peaceful River." The originals were recorded for 2013's Awakening with a different lineup, signifying Grossmann's initial forays into spiritual jazz from the freer approach she embodied early on; they fit seamlessly here. "Wien" opens with fleet runs from Milojkovic, Grossmann bowing an Indian tamboura, haunted organ tones, and uneasy rumbling from bass and drums. Grossmann's tenor responds to the vamp with a harmonically intricate solo. As the organ and bass begin to swell, she drops out and Milojkovic wades in with a snaky slide blues guitar break; she answers with gentle fills and tags as bell-like cymbals and tom-toms carry the vamp. The rhythm section opens the gate for Barceló, who bridges groove and North African modes to jazz. "African Call" weds West African juju and highlife styles to South African Township jive and Afro-Latin jazz. The entwined guitar and organ sound like Sonny Sharrock and Larry Young playing with Sonny Rollins on "Don't Stop the Carnival" -- it gets quoted in Grossmann's solo. The interplay between Stamenkovic's cymbal syncopations and Milojkovic's chunky single-string playing is nearly symbiotic, reflecting the rhythmic and textural depth in this band's approach. "Peaceful River" is introduced by drones playing under Grossmann's soprano intro. Drifting guitar chords frame her bluesy phrasing. She switches to tenor, poetically whispering with restraint and tenderness before a bell-like ride cymbal and breaking toms and snares re-introduce her soprano articulating the lyric. Schwarz's fat, warm-toned bassline begins to pulse, hum, and sing behind and through her lines, urging her inquiry forward. Closer "Quiet Earth" opens with rumbling drums and bass improvisation. Grossmann's soprano answers with searing economical lines until two minutes in when guitar and organ enter. A pulse-like swinging rhythm emerges and the band takes flight for a few minutes to hypnotically explore the blurred sonic terrain where spiritual jazz meets modal improvisation. Led by Barceló's dark-tinged organ, Grossmann's solo travels afield, circling the motif and harmonically reframing it before Milojkovic adds a fluid, groove-laden solo. Grossmann, Schwarz, and Stamenkovic carry it out trio-wise with strikingly intuitive improvised dialogue. On Quiet Earth, Grossmann expands her earlier avant approach and embraces a more sophisticated, spiritually and emotionally resonant one. That said, this album is not a mere signifier for stylistic transition; instead it achieves a holistic, fully developed musical realization.
© Thom Jurek /TiVo