The Westerlies — The Westerlies
First off, I really like the idea of ‘restrictive’ set-ups: duo recordings, solo recordings, or recordings of groups of identical or very similar instrumentation. It can encourage a deeper listening from the audience, and encourage deeper thought and playing from the performers themselves. However, it’s fair to say that these things can often benefit from an improvisational, or sound-based approach. The tracks here, would all appear to be pretty tightly (if not completely) composed, and more often than not the emphasis is on melody and rhythm, rather than exploring the sound of four brass instruments playing together. So, there are entire sections - tracks even - which really do very little for me here. This isn’t a criticism of the playing, which is consistently great; strident when it needs to be, tender at other points. It’s more an indication of how our tastes don’t match up, in terms of the compositions. Curiously, the second disc seems to sit better in my ears. It begins with The Shop, which is a rather consummate little piece that starts off reminding me of Raymond Scott’s more madcap cartoon work, before ending in a much more measured, almost pastoral, tone. The piece has manic sections, which work where the other Willem de Koch composition, The Beekeeper, felt like a lot of bluster, to no effect. The second track, The Beach (written by Hensler), has nice ensemble playing that builds elegant harmonies and waves, creating a kind of melancholy optimism. Here, the long, droning notes explore the obvious strengths of the instrumentation, and the whole piece is quite beautiful. The liner notes state (quite rightly) that the ’common expectation from trumpets and trombones is the sound of Olympic brass’, and that The Westerlies avoid this with their sensitive and warm playing - and I don’t dispute this. However, I think it’s fair to say that a good proportion of the album does sound like conventional brass work - or rather, what you would expect to hear the brass section doing, if they were isolated from a larger ensemble. Rue des Rosiers (Clausen) actually plays with these stereotypes very cutely, slowly rolling out a lurching, staccato circus-esque theme - almost drunken in its wailing, in places. The album ends with another Clausen piece, All To Ourselves, which acts as a short, stately conclusion - even if the main melody is reminiscent of Ten Green Bottles…
I’m aware that I appear to have dismissed the first disc entirely, but most of it just washed over me; however, there is certainly a lot of material, so there’s ample opportunity to find joy where my ears didn’t. There are definitely passages and sections which I like - the processed, breathy gurgling on So So Shy (Hensler), or the harmonies of Where’s The Music? (Ellington), for example - but in the broader view, I’m just not charmed. The second side has stronger pieces, to my mind. Although the playing is overwhelmingly straight, there are some moments of extended technique, as well as subtly applied reverb and delays. Perhaps the most impressive technique - again playing to the strengths of brass - is shown in the short sections where the entire ensemble lock in on a riff, or line: a truly, truly, hard sound, which reminds you just how ‘loud’ brass can be. This isn’t remotely a bad album, but it’s also not really an album for me - and I know that’s a hoary old line.