Marta Sánchez Quintet • El Rayo de Luz
 ome modern
jazz is sweepingly romantic, and some of it deals with wheels-within-wheels structural
intricacy. The two don’t usually coincide, as they do in Marta Sánchez’s
quintet music, but then she has a knack for threading diverse material together, and
having it all balance out: not too much of any one thing. The polyglot cast of the Spanish
pianist’s band amplifies that diversity: Israeli drummer Daniel Dor, Canadian bassist
Rick Rosato, Roman Filiu (from Cuba) on alto saxophone, and the USA’s Chris Cheek on
tenor.
Sánchez the composer likes the melancholy blend of twinned saxophones, set against complex rhythm figures. Motifs that crop up in one pocket of the band might spread to another. "Dead Flowers" (not the Stones classic) begins with a mournful slow chorale for two saxophones and bowed bass, challenged after eight bars by a jittery locked-in rhythm section -- bass having abruptly shifted allegiances; their stuttery staccato figure keeps coming back under a (romantic) piano solo, murmured by tenor saxophone or a low drum, sometimes with an alto sax counter line on top. Dynamics and ensemble density swell and recede. The passion in Spanish music is traditionally tied to rhythm, and there are whispers of flamenco beats in high-stepping "El Cambio" and in "El Rayo de Luz" with its sturdy rhythmic tattoos for rhythm trio, independently whirling corkscrew lines for saxes, and a rousing downhill march. Her melodies will come back, mid-tune, to break up the solos, and maybe remind us how far we’ve come in a few minutes. Despite all the scripted activity, these pieces don’t feel overstuffed with written content -- the solos open things out, even as the backgrounds hark back to a tune’s seed material. A typical Sánchez improvisation mixes wide leaps across the keyboard and slinky chromatic runs: giant steps and baby steps, opposites resolving. She has an elegant touch, and uses the sustain pedal to soften the sound but not cloud it up. Her lace-curtain solos (on, say, the pensive "I Will Miss You") contrast with her steely ensemble work, when the rhythm section locks into some complex groove for saxophones to lava-flow over. The recorded sound is appropriately warm, but (like everything else here) isn’t overdone. (Andy Taub was at the board.) When bassist Rosato solos on "El Rayo de Luz," he’s not too close-miked, letting a little room sound surround his woody timbre, though in ensembles his lows sound subtly beefed up. The recording doesn’t call attention to itself. Tenorist Chris Cheek’s understated grace and
lucidity as improviser make a good fit -- thoughtful attractive lines and no empty
gestures. The music’s sound design often calls for a seamless blend from the
saxophonists, who match their tones very well. On "El Cambio," saxes play in
unison, and then one will briefly diverge onto an independent line, creating the momentary
illusion of a third horn in the mix. Filiu and Cheek are compatible almost to a fault;
since they often gravitate to the range where alto and tenor overlap, they can sound oddly
alike -- so much so that "Parmesano," where they solo back to back, plays almost
like a concerto for a single horn. Still, that kinship is more strength than liability:
melded, they capture that Iberian melancholy, what the Portuguese call saudade,
which often hovers around Sánchez’s music. And Filiu shows Spanish and Cuban soul
are closely intertwined. The players can luxuriate in that feeling a little, and a solo or
two might go on a hair too long, but then the rhythm section will snap into some sprightly
dance that throws everything into a fresh context and whisks us along. |
