12(+1) Imaginary Views [feat. Andrea Parkins & Jim Black]

"Post modernism" is already a maligned enough generalization that critics hate using it as much as musicians hate being labeled as such. Over the past twenty years or so, what was once a sly reference to integrating the mundane into Real Art has become a catch-all for anything that quotes lines from Coke ads or after-school specials. I don't believe it was ever supposed to be a joke (though irony must have figured in somehow), but now when I hear musicians strutting their pop culture stuff, it provokes slight annoyance and suspicion more than any kind of serious attempt to find meaning in their second-hand statements.

Of course, there are exceptions to this: Beck's often interesting (and sometimes contrived) AM Gold amalgams, John Zorn's manic Saturday morning freak-outs, and the downright odd cinematic society collages of David Lynch. Some might argue that these artists are famous enough that their work has, by definition, surpassed the whole idea of "post modernism" and is merely "modern." Others might claim that their fondness for iconic imagery and reference is actually a crutch to disguise their lack of originality (and I have heard that criticism, ridiculous as it is). But really, my only qualm with someone like John Zorn is not that he depends too much on the mundane-- it's that he doesn't spend enough. It's as if he has a disability to remain fixed on one aspect of his work long enough to maintain a clear relationship to anything, and rather bounces like a mosquito from bright spot to bright spot. It makes for very interesting music, albeit often frustratingly flighty.

Saxophonist Ellery Eskelin may yet be the supreme prophet of the "post-modern" in music. This is a man who has seemingly taken it upon himself (and conspirators Jim Black and Andrea Parkins) to find the missing link between jazz, rock, electronic music, pop and plain old everyday static. Where fellow New Yorkers like Zorn or Tim Berne might take the high road by writing unplayable tunes with insane levels of intensity, Eskelin organizes improvisational sessions for his band to summarize the chapters of their backgrounds-- all of which are considerably varied. Eskelin is also not afraid to play music that is superficially "familiar"; i.e., many of his tunes sound like things you would hum on your own, like melodies everyone knows without ever having been expressly taught.

The trio that made this album (the seventh in a series, part of a development program for the Swiss hatOLOGY label) has been together since 1994. Eskelin had previously issued several solo albums, in addition to gaining fairly widespread exposure with drummer Joey Baron's Barondown project. Percussionist Jim Black came to New York from Seattle in the early 90s, getting his biggest props with Tim Berne's Bloodcount (he's since become arguably the most in-demand experimental percussionist in New York), and keyboardist/sampler player Andrea Parkins has made her name with Eskelin's group and for solo performances. Together, they form one of the most interesting units in jazz, and if there is any justice, they'll find more funding to continue this series of recordings (their grant only ran through 2001).

Similar to previous albums in the series, 12 (+1) Imaginary Views calls on the collective experiences of the players to feed the music. Eskelin's heavy jazz background (he studied with Dave Liebman and George Coleman, among others) and knack for penning subtly memorable melodies reminds me of similar strengths of another jazz populist: Thelonious Monk. Like Monk, his music is often simple on the surface, but repeated listens reveal a marvelously advanced efficiency in the arrangements (as a bass-less trio, this is a plus) and compositions. Fittingly, this group plays the old master's "Oska T" as a virtual encore at the end of the disc.

The anthemic "Opener" describes its purpose as the first track, and wastes no time in starting the show. Black is all over the kit, and if you haven't had the sincere pleasure of hearing him play, by all means obtain this record. The man is a genius, and certainly deserves more space than can be allotted in this review to espouse on his imaginative, virtuosic playing. Eskelin's repetitive (and forcibly catchy) melody is supported by Parkins' accordion patch. Furthermore, though I took this stuff without so much as a second thought, I would be hard-pressed to say what kind of music they were playing. It wasn't really jazz (where's the "swinging" and solo section signpost?), certainly not rock (even though Black is terribly fond of dropping mad beats all over the place), maybe a bit influenced by Balkan rhythms and textures, but not really. Best of all, this lack of a label applies to every second of music on the album.

"Four Chords" features more hard beats by Black, and like the title says, Parkins giving you four chords on the piano. There are a few dozen other things in there, too, such as what sounds like Eskelin running his horn through a sewer pipe while playing "Flight of the Bumblebee." "Low(ly)" is the first tune to really take advantage of the wide array of electronic effects at Parkins' disposal. It begins with a spooky backdrop that sounds like a chorus of flies, and leads to very aggressive piano/organ improvisation. Soon, Eskelin enters over the by-then restrained organ, playing relatively straightforward solo lines, reminiscent of his old mentor Liebman (who was, in turn, following late-period Coltrane). What first seemed like an exercise in Artistic Electronic Composition ends up an abstract funeral dirge.

Elsewhere, they kick out the jams: "Plastiche" makes life all the more worth living about three minutes in when it hits on the fucked up beats and super James Bond-style suspense melodies. All praise be to Black! They pull a similar trick on "Grafik," but wait until four minutes into a hefty improv session to hit you. "Modular" may be the best groove on the album, though I can only describe the opening as Kiss trying to play an Ornette Coleman tune. They stretch out the middle with some rather hectic impressionism (sounds like a hurricane to me), and nail the tune to the wall at the end like be-bop Ruins.

I could go on about how the best stuff here was actually the softer, yet more detailed electronic pieces like "Naked Eye" or gorgeous minimalism of "Combulatory," but hopefully you'll just go out and pick up the disc to hear for yourself. Eskelin doesn't quite get the headlines of some of his New York compatriots, though it certainly isn't for lack of experience or creativity. Maybe the jazz instrumentation throws off all but the hardcore improv-philes, or maybe people just don't have time for more than one or two downtown New York sax players. Whatever the case, I can safely say that anyone missing Eskelin and his band of real modernists is missing quite a lot.