Electro-Jazz

This album epitomizes the kind of work I simply cannot connect with: too steeped in rock culture, pushing the boundaries of tolerance. Perhaps, from my perspective, it might find merit on stage with added choreography, but as a standalone piece, it resonates not at all with me. Most of the music here leans more toward video game soundtracks than anything compatible with jazz; it aligns better with the electro scene. I can barely endure an entire track, and when I feel uninspired three songs in, continuing any further becomes almost impossible.

For over two decades, guitarist Simon Angell and drummer Tommy Crane have made music alongside renowned figures across jazz, indie rock, and experimental scenes. Now, collaborating as a duo for the first time, these highly sought-after musicians from Montreal have embarked on their own project. They began by improvising freely, recording days of exploratory sessions, which they later processed and reshaped, deploying modern production techniques to refine and reconstruct the raw material.

But, as I often say, creating is one thing, regardless of the direction, but ultimately, one must reach an audience. Here, the music feels at times too “musical” for the electro scene and not jazz enough for the jazz crowd, with an oppressive din on each track that renders the listening experience challenging, to say the least. I’ll leave Angell’s rather pretentious words to speak for themselves: “Often, in jazz and improvised music, once everything is recorded, the production aspect is completely forgotten.” Angell says. There are some exceptions – Teo Macero’s edits for Miles Davis, Makaya McCraven’s electrifying montages – but for improvisers, studio exploration often gets sidelined in favor of an unmodified sound, which some might deem more “authentic.” Not here: Angell & Crane have crafted a sonic space that trembles, shimmers, and shatters, weaving together ECM-style jazz, ambient drone, and searing “no wave” punk.

It’s evident these two artists don’t know ECM productions well, or perhaps we’re simply hearing things differently. Here, one wonders where the Teo Macero references are in relation to Miles Davis; six days of studio improvisation were needed to produce this album based on those sessions. The result is a disjointed collection, lacking clear direction, punctuated by abrasive sounds and a drum set attempting to impose its style. Twelve “tracks,” if one can call them that, make up this album. I managed to get through only eight, which is quite an achievement when one feels so alienated by a work. Recommending this album is impossible; I feel wholly disconnected from it and, in fairness, can only grant a single star, and that solely out of respect for the sound engineer, who clearly did what he could.

Thierry De Clemensat
USA correspondent – Paris-Move and ABS magazine
Editor in chief Bayou Blue Radio, Bayou Blue News

PARIS-MOVE, October 26th 2024

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