Get the audios - and enjoy!
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| new CD: GROB records - cologne audio I audio
II |
| Borgmann / Peter Brötzmann / William Parker / Rashied Bakr |
| tour specials 2005/2006 | |
28. Juni 2006 - Ljubljana - Festival 17. Februar 2006 - Berlin - AufSturz 20. Januar 2006 - Berlin - Kulturhaus Peter Edel 21.November '05 - Magdeburg - Schauspiel Magdeburg 16. November '05 - North Cyprus - Buyuk Han Lefkosa 15. November '05 - presidents palace - Nikosia - North Cyprus 14. November '05 - North Cyprus - Bellapais monastery w/ Roy Campbell 1.July '05 - Greifswald - NDR Festival Eldena |
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*heimat at eldena jazz evenings'05* |
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*heimat in peking*
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boom box
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at
mulhouse festival 2001 |
There are two new documentary movies out I'm involved in: Denis Charles: Inside
Out In The Open get more infos about both movies
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| ... just found at *all music guide* |
CD Ride into the Blue You already know by who is involved here that this plate is gonna be
gone, don't ya? And you're right, but misjudging the proverbial blowhard
free jazz mantra just a bit. There are six tunes here, supposedly four
of them created on the spot, with one each by Borah Bergman and Thomas
Borgmann. But it feels as if everything here was rehearsed and piloted
into the stratosphere -- and yes, that is a good thing. Hearing the titanium
lungs of Peter Brötzmann playing a restrained and loping alto saxophone
to Borgmann's shredding tenor and lilting sopranino is something akin
to pure atonal joy. When driven and underscored by the elliptical harmonic
languages of pianist Bergman, the noise this trio makes becomes full
of spaces and lush dynamics that make you rub your eyes and look at the
record sleeve again. One good listen to "Tomorrow Is No Question" should
be enough to convince anybody that free jazz is more that gutting the
horns and slashing the strings. These spaces are majestic and haunting
at once; they whisper in minor and diminished sixths and drop the entire
family of demons down with shrill legato squawks and shrieks in the very
next moment but, like a Hitchcock film, you know it's coming. There are
also moments of true exploration here, such as on "Surfing the Blues," when
Bergman ushers an invitation for both horn players to engage in a lively
session of overtonal interplay with his piano and with each other. The
tempos change and the dynamics shift more subtly because of the intensity
of the piece. But the grandest thing here, and by far the most creative
collectively, is the improvisation "Stranger in the City," which
lasts for nearly half an hour. No one has ever heard Brötzmann play
with such alchemical liquidity and economy of lyrical language, no matter
how frayed the piece gets in sections. The tinge of silence is always
present in Bergman's right hand, playing ghostly in the middle registers
with elegance and restraint as Borgmann intones chromatically on the
sopranino and then plays with it in the context of the feeling of strangeness
and alienation. It's breathtaking. What an album!
Oh yeah, here we go. Three of free improv's wildest wonders in a set
of spontaneous compositions set to curl the hair on the back of your
neck and send you screaming into the night. Nah, it's not all that bad
-- or good, depending on your point of view -- but this is a fine example
of how the spontaneous composition principle works when it's displayed
by three monster musicians such as these. With two sax players (and Brötzmann
also plays bass clarinet) and a pianist all waiting for the moment to
cut loose -- and wait, and wait, and wait -- the results are bound to
be a bit daunting. And while it's true they are, they're also a hell
of a lot of fun. Here tensions are created endlessly, it seems, just
to see who is going to break and tear into the open field of improvisation
first. Certainly "Clear Visions" is like this, as are the title
track and "Stride Ahead." Elsewhere the trio seems to engage
one another in creating loose intervals of improvisation, evoking senses
of time and even rhythm in places, which is an illusion. The intervals
created are for polytonal engagement, especially between the two saxophonists.
As these duels ensue as they do on "Right Now" and "One
Block West," Borah Bergman tears into the high register and establishes
a percussive ostinato that falters in between intervals and moves off
to create another it cannot sustain; there's too much going on tonally
to stay put for very long at all. Hence this is a rabid-dog dialogue
that is more restrained than it would at first appear, but is nonetheless
wilder than 99 percent of the free improv work out there. It may not
be for the faint-hearted, but it is truly rewarding music.
CD STALKER SONGS Thomas Borgmann's trio, with the late Denis Charles on drums and Wilbur
Morris on bass, was a formidable unit. They were capable of bringing
together both side of the jazz avant-garde (the fiery, wildly dissonant,
and intense side with the space exploring, multi-textured, microtonally
conscious side) effortlessly, and often within the same composition.
This is no mean feat for a trio. When saxophone wailing Wotan Peter Brötzmann
was added to the equation for this impromptu date, it would seem that
the scales tip decidedly in favor of one side. Not so. The two tracks
here and both spontaneous improvisations recorded in one day (the band
played two half hour sets, had a two hour rest, and played two more).
The tracks included are the first half-hour from each set. Here both
saxophonists placed themselves solidly in front of one another and instinctually
ask to be led by the rhythm section. Anyone who is familiar with Charles
and Morris knows the power they are capable of summoning on a moments
notice. Given how much younger Borgmann is than the rest of this group,
it is stunning to hear how well he holds his own and even thrives in
this setting. There is no intimidation factor; he and Brötzmann
move through each other like big immutable spirits, coloring the air
with scalar inventions, tonal scrambles, and honking and squealing in
rhythm. The rhythm section has no trouble with cracking the whip on both
men. Charles and Morris make an offering to the realms of texture, consistency,
and spatial exploration all around the pair. When it's all over, the
listener is exhausted, having been taken to many places and through many
changes in harmonic dimension and a palette of colors so rich and deep,
it's a wonder they don't all run together. And since this is the last
session that Denis Charles played on -- he died at age 64 after touring
with this band for a month -- it is a fitting send off for an artist
of his stature.
This live date from 1997 features reedman Thomas Borgmann with bassist
Wilber Morris and the late Denis Charles on drums performing in Germany.
Though it was the first show of a tour, there is no hesitation on the
part of the trio. Sound begins to come from Charles, who ushers in a
rubbing of his kit, a few taps to the wood, and then Borgmann enters
with one short line, then a long line, then an invitation to Morris.
When the pizzicato begins, slowly at first, in tandem with Charles motioning
around the kit with a loose orderly direction, it becomes Borgmann's
cue to move into the space and begin to speak in those gorgeous elongated
legato phrases of his, edges off the tone, but biting nonetheless. Charles
is his fixture, compelling him, edging him toward the ledge that Morris
finally urges him to leap over in "Down Under." Almost 19 minutes
long, this opening track better sums up the language of articulation
used by this trio than anything else on the set, though all of its is
worthwhile. Other moments in the shop that offer flashes of lightning
the darkness include the stunning multiphonics Borgmann employs in "Organic
Sweet," and his below-the-belt Sonny Rollins low notes in "Ode
to Sonny." Morris and Charles don't have to worry about containing
or keeping up with Borgmann; they are deeply connected to his sound world,
crisscrossing tonalities and sonorous problems with the ease of a child.
There are moments of thunder and moments of pastoral richness and pure
emotion as these three take on the cosmic muse and create a series of
microtonal improvisations that leave the listener stunned.
CD BOOM SWING While everything on this disc is worth discussing, its large suite, "Nastysweet
Parts I & II," which covers over half the CD, is the place to
fix your focus on. "Nastysweeet" is a gargantuan piece of group
improvisation in which the entirety of Western music is called into question
and found wanting. The stalwart, visionary rhythm section of the late
Denis Charles and bassist Wilber Morris accompanies saxophonist Thomas
Borgmann, who uses tenor, soprano, and sopranino horns here. Morris,
who leads in ominously, plays single-note octaves and whole tones, re-tuning
as he plays. Borgmann joins him sparingly, drifting in cautiously, playing
in between those notes and around them with the bass at the center. Charles
is heard from in a sudden crash of cymbals and bass drum before easing
his way in with fragments centered around Morris. It is at this moment
that Borgmann chooses to introduce the melody, steeped in blues and modalism
and something else, a certain tonal inquiry that asks deep questions
of both of them and never attempts to answer them -- at least to any
kind of satisfaction. As the piece takes off it becomes a no-holds-barred,
three-sided argument for freedom and from consonance, an assent to dissonance
-- not for its own sake, but for stripping away the historical layers
that made it dissonant in the first place. This is language music: it
tells stories, it erects enormous harmonic temples that crash without
a moment's notice, it breaks intervals in its teeth and boils them down
into a squawking soup that pours forth in ribbons of pure sound. It's
almost impossible to listen to the other two cuts here because these
are so dramatic and full of emotion they leave the listener exhausted.
But that's a small complaint.
The BMN Trio is Thomas Borgmann on saxophones,
Wilber Morris on bass, and Reggie Nicholson on drums. The Trio is the
successor to an earlier
group with Denis Charles, whose death led to the substitution of Nicholson.
Evidently, the trio made this recording in conjunction with a national
tour, and the session has the feel of a concert performance, with the
four tunes averaging more than fifteen minutes apiece. The "you
were there" production technique (a characteristic of all CIMP releases)
of engineer Marc Rusch adds to that feeling, as the dynamics and sound
vary dramatically without any artificial recording cushion. Borgmann
is a powerful performer, who when given time to stretch, displays a remarkable
diversity of style; and Morris and Nicholson provide strong support.
More than many CDs, this one requires close listening due to the sometimes-slow
buildup (particularly on the lengthy "Goodbye Mr. Charles) and organic
development. |
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