Chad McCullough • The Charm of Impossibilities

Calligram Records 0002
CD
2023

Music

Sound

by Kevin Whitehead | October 16, 2023

had McCullough has a pealing sound centered in the trumpet’s middle register, though he’ll freely dart above and below. He stays light on his feet, as if not too enraptured with himself or his handsome mobile sound; he’s not one to call for a retake just because he cracks a note in the second phrase of a solo, when he’s already into his story. He’s attentive to space and silence as well as expansive sequences that go on a phrase or two longer than you might expect. Varied phrase lengths and attacks reflect varied intentions. He’s thinking back there.

McCullough has recorded with fellow trumpeters Ryan Schultz and Tim Hagans, with fellow mid-career Chicagoans in the Spin Quartet, and in duo and quartet with Flemish pianist Bram Weijters. His latest under his own name features an always formidable tenor saxophonist recently returned to Chicago from the East, Jon Irabagon (also briefly heard on soprano). The blend is instant on the Ornette Coleman-allusive head “Retroactive Resonance” but where the leader’s solo elegantly swoops, Irabagon pushes, throwing himself against the ropes. He takes the performance someplace else, as bassist Larry Kohut and drummer Jon Dietemyer modulate their own accompaniment. Alluding to Coleman, a rhythm section had better be swinging as well as flexible. No problems with this pair.

The blend of the horns’ lighter and heavier/milder and wilder tones perks up the heads and builds in variety; they prowl together, fused on the melody “Prayer,” and are effective in secondary amen roles. A free dialogue over rhythm on “Cardamom” and the sparring intro to Irabagon’s “Spinning Wheels” stand out. On the latter, Irabagon suggests Sonny Rollins, not for the first time: how he seems to mock his own ferocious facility a little. (Lester Young once derided certain tenors as “all belly.” That stings.)

It’s a tribute to the other players that we don’t miss Irabagon so very much on five trio tracks, where McCullough demonstrates those aforementioned virtues. A further (sonic) wrinkle is that in trio or quartet, from track to track, Larry Kohut switches between acoustic and electric basses without jarring contrast. Partly it’s that he like other modern contrabassists gets an amp-y bandstand sound even in the studio, and that he studiously avoids thumb-pop funk or other instant electric signifiers. (McCullough and Hagans produced, Nick Broste recorded so you can hear every detail, and Paul Mutzabaugh did the warm well-balanced mix.) Kohut displays the same virtues on bass violin and on bass guitar: in-the-pocket timing, sensitivity to a changing landscape, a groove they can all count on.

Those grooves can be tricky. The Charm of Impossibilities takes its name from a chapter in Olivier Messiaen’s 1944 treatise on his own compositional thinking, translated into English as The Technique of My Musical Language, and McCullough points to its influence here. It is an amazing document you can find online, on the use of myriad tools creative jazz composers (among others) can profitably deploy: birdcalls in their non-human complexity; inexact repetition as a means of variation; diminished and augmented rhythms as well as harmonies; clusters and chords built on fourths; flat 5s/sharp 4s; stratified rhythms, sure, but also stratified harmonies, anticipating Wayne Shorter tunes where the horns move one way and the bass another. (Shorter might have read it too.) We barely scratch the surface; it’s a rich text one might mine for years. It pays off for McCullough with varied tunes that get everyone moving -- and sound nothing like Messiaen, who gives you the tools to do it yourself.

Do it yourself: The Charm of Impossibilities is one of three sharp-looking debut releases from new label Calligram, run by McCullough and saxophonist/label mate Geof Bradfield. Another of those new Calligrams parallels this one. Russ Johnson’s Reveal also features a Second City trumpeter’s pianoless quartet with a recently returned Chicagoan in the front line: in this case, violinist Mark Feldman.

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