Wayne Horvitz — Some Places Are Forever Afternoon (11 Places For R
Hugo was an american poet, unknown to me, but his poems (from those in the inlay) seemed to have concerned themselves with forgotten corners of the USA. Not in any esoteric, or unusual way, but more the everyday happenings of a small, sleepy town, and its surroundings. Horvitz came across Hugo’s work, and was driven to reflect on some of his writings musically. Thus, we have a booklet with 11 poems, various photographs of a tired, left-behind americana, and a CD with 12 tracks of jazz tracks from a small ensemble. Horvitz’s group is a septet, utilising piano/Hammond B-3/electronics, cornet, bassoon, cello, guitar, bass, and drums.
First things first: I love this album. However, I’m not sure I’ll be able to be that concrete about why I like it. So let’s start from the opposite angle… This is, to my ears at least, a very nice album. It sounds nice. I realise that isn’t necessarily a very glowing compliment, but it perhaps cuts to a potentially divisive element of it. Some Places Are Forever Afternoon is at times almost chocolate-box pretty, almost twee - I’m reasonably convinced I could have played parts of this to my conservative grandparents, and they would have tapped their feet along. On top of this, the more quirky sections - for some reason - sometimes remind me of soundtracks or interlude music from slightly offbeat US sitcoms. There’s even a tangent into full-blown, bar-room blues in All Weather Is Yours No Matter How Vulgar, as well as the country leanings of the blues of In Some Other Home. Here, these potentially staid territories are grabbed by the collar, joyfully teased, and played with; they are viewed through a jazzy lens, without any sense of disrespect or kitsch. So, as you can see, this is not an album to be filed alongside Ayler or Brötzmann - which are perhaps more indicative of my tastes. None of this is to suggest that Some Places Are Forever Afternoon is remotely safe, boring or dull. The album shines and shimmers, due to its intelligent ensemble playing and harmonies. It’s unclear precisely how much of it is composed - and clearly some sections are very composed - but throughout the entire album, the septet are so assured and exact in a melodic sense. There’s almost a ruthlessness that suggests the whole release is strictly composed. The playing is overwhelmingly melodic, and straight, though there are sections which are more free, or sound-orientated. There’s even a passage in the morose You Drink Until You Are Mayor, which drags forth a bone-rattling, death drone, with murky, dirge-like bassoon (or cornet…) playing. Whereupon the next piece, Nothing Dies As Slowly As A Scene, bounds along on a rolling, upbeat rhythm; complete with bewildering sections that set out a maze of strident cadences. So it’s an album of contrasting tones, but there’s a sweet melancholy that runs throughout most of it - a tiny grandeur. Perhaps the most imposing - for want of a better word - track is Last Place There; this is the one piece on the album not inspired directly by a poem - instead being dedicated to Hugo himself. It carries a jazzy, ensemble bluster that reminds me of Mingus - and there are other moments where the great bassist and bandleader raises his head, and there’s not much greater praise than that.
So, this is a album of wonderful, precise, ensemble jazz playing - perhaps chamber jazz. Whatever the pigeonhole, it’s compelling listening. Consistently melodically strong and rigorous, Horvitz’s group compress so much music into the short pieces (The Car That Brought You Here Still Runs is over ten minutes, but the rest of the works average out around the four minute mark), but still balance that density with a lightness of touch, and a delicacy. To put it in culinary terms, it’s complex and nourishing, but it goes down incredibly easily. It reminds me of the territory where the initial wave of US post-rock toyed with jazz - the earliest Tortoise albums, or Rachels, for example. But here, Horvitz’s septet amplify the jazz elements, with a strong, adept, ensemble performance. This won’t be for everyone, my words above have probably made that clear; however, this album has been a joyful companion to me for a while now, and a very welcome one.