In a previous column I reviewed a couple of albums by Satoko Fujii, commented on the astonishing statistics of her output (over 100 albums as leader in 29 years, plus her work as a member of various co-operative groups) and speculated that more would be released before my review appeared. Here are two of them!
Natsuki Tamura, Satoko Fujii & Ramon Lopez: Yama Kawa Umi (Not Two MW 1041-2)
On this album (the title means Mountain, River, Sea) Fujii is again teamed with her husband, Tamura, as well as with drummer López. She and López cut a duo album (Confluence) in 2018 and this trio line-up previously recorded Mantle in 2019 and they are well-tuned-in to each other’s ideas and approach.
I am always impressed, and still often caught off-guard, by Fujii’s ability to switch between paint-stripping intensity and impressionistic lyricism, making the practice sound natural and apposite. This is demonstrated right off with Headwaters, the opening track, which bursts forth with a torrent of sound that soon subsides to reveal a gentle piano sequence which in turn is engulfed in another passage of intense group-playing.
There is evidently a programmatic element to the music, charting the changing nature of the water as the river flows from source to sea but, music being the most abstract of the arts (and therefore the most subjective) my mental images may not reflect what the musicians had in mind. These are certainly stormy waters, and the music conjures up their power, perhaps reminding us of their indifference to us and maybe also the depredations we inflict on them.
Kira Kira: Kira Kira Live (Alister Spence Music ASAM 015)
Fujii and Australian pianist Spence have collaborated very effectively before on various projects, including previous Kira Kira sessions. The band is completed by Tamura and drummer Tatsuya Yoshida and the music on this release was recorded at two concerts in January 2024, one in Tokyo, the other in Nagoya. Fujii plays conventional piano (albeit it with “preparations”) and Spence is on a Fender Rhodes with effects pedals, preparations and percussion. They mesh well and contribute some interesting dialogues.
The album opens with subdued, mysterious skittering on Vertical Rainbow which soon explodes into a fierce passage that ushers in featured contributions from Tamura, Spence and Fujii as Yoshida goads them on with barrages from every bit of his kit. Bolognaise follows, with some of Tamura’s trademark mix of vocalisation and trumpet together and evolves in due course into a slightly cantankerous exchange before a calming elegant piano sequence. Green Energy has a somewhat ceremonial feel, and all these different moods and approaches wax and wane throughout the rest of the album, with Yoshida demonstrating the ability to play melodically as well as goad the band into increasing levels of intensity.
The Jazzmen: Nineteen Sixty-Six (Corbett vs Dempsey CD116)
On Nineteen Sixty-Six The Jazzmen soften us up with a fairly laid-back 10-minute version of One Mint Julep, based on a Freddie Hubbard arrangement, and featuring tasty work by leader Tyrone Crabb (bass) and trumpeter Joe McPhee. Then they kick off into 34-minutes of free jazz on Killed In Vietnam, which eventually morphs into what seems like a somewhat sarcastic version of Milestones. I imagine one or other of the tracks would have startled many of those who heard these performances, depending on whether hard bop or “the new thing” was their preference: more than half-a-century since free jazz burst on the scene the wild jostling of the second track sounds pretty routine whilst One Mint Julep seems surprising in the context.
This long-lost recording, hailing from 1966, is believed to be the earliest known recording of McPhee, predating those from slightly later in the 60s when he had just started playing tenor sax and was deeply involved in exploring the possibilities of free improvisation. For fans of McPhee this is a fascinating find: transferred from a reel-to-reel tape previously thought lost, it shows him in transition between stylistic approaches.
