It's fun to play with jazz musicians, in both senses of the word: as collaborators, but also as toys. If you're the producer of a pop, rap or electronica album, a real live jazz musician can bring a spontaneous friction to your recording session; like wind-up cars, they can spin around of their own volition, careening with energy over your album. But for as much freedom as they enjoy, if you're behind the mixing board you can control them like a kid in the den: you can block them with cushions, see if they can clear the floor, even throw under the couch in a tantrum.
No matter how many high-brow ideas Spring Heel Jack layered on the album before this-- 2001's Masses-- it was the \x93gee whiz\x94 playtime factor that made them exciting. Veteran drum-n-bass duo John Coxon and Ashley Wales are life-long jazz fans; aside from a guest spot by John Surman on Disappeared, they had never used live performers until the Thirsty Ear Blue Series invited them to collaborate with some of its roster.
Next thing they knew, they had control over almost a dozen of the best improvisers in jazz, from pianist Matthew Shipp and bassist William Parker to monolithic saxophonist Evan Parker and violist Mat Maneri. On Masses the duo dropped the live musicians into shimmering electronic backgrounds and ambient loops: a grinding guitar, a faded radio orchestra or a thudding upright bass, each backdrop ambient and passive, but vibrant and tricky enough to challenge the musicians who wandered through them, sometimes merely reacting, sometimes violently confronting the samples (or each other).
Coxon and Wales repeat the concept-- and some of the backdrops-- on Amassed, a follow-up that takes the basic idea from Masses but changes the cast as well as the atmosphere. While Shipp and Evan Parker return for this album, the personnel as a whole shifts to more European players, and the music slows down, losing some of the band's snarkiness and humor. Amassed doesn't spark as much excitement as their last outing: it's less satisfying, less surprising and far less dynamic. It's never weak, but it suffers greatly in inevitable comparisons with its predecessor.
That's not the fault of the musicians. It's tough to pick who's better: Maneri and William Parker on the first album, or trumpeter Kenny Wheeler and drummer/pseudo-performance artist Han Bennick on this one; it's like arguing over who would win a fight between King Kong and Godzilla. The improv is as sharp and natural as on Masses; Evan Parker stands out as the star soloist, with his fluid, tight circles of notes detonating in the space between academia, passion and those little rock gardens you tend with a rake. Wheeler is in elegant form, coolly soothing and deeply reflective. For a wildcard, they add Jason Pierce, aka J. Spaceman (Spiritualized, Spaceman 3) on distorted, processed guitar; while his wailing is less nimble than his colleagues' performances, his style connects the electronic atmospheres to the live spontaneity of the band.
Spring Heel Jack remain subtle in handling musicians: most of the tracks still run over sampled elements that lay in the background, affecting the pace and atmosphere without hemming in the melody or rhythm. They don't splice or splinter the performances; in fact, most of the time they stay out of the way, throwing out a cue or shaping a performance by trimming it, such as on \x93Maroc\x94, where they excise everybody but Parker and Spaceman, trimming a group recording down to a duet. The only guy they grapple with is Wheeler: on his ballad feature \x93Lit\x94 they surround his trumpet with scrunching sounds like bored kids crunching styrofoam cups, an effect that's witty but somewhat annoying.
But for most of this record, the humor and novelty of the Masses lineup is gone. Their decision to repeat some of the backdrops is the first thing that takes the sheen off the project. For example, \x93100 Years Before\x94 uses the \x93Over the Rainbow\x94-like horns and wide spaces from Masses' \x93Chorale\x94, and \x93Obscured\x94 repeats \x93Chiaroscuro\x94. Even in the improvisation, the band seems to be getting down to business rather than enjoying themselves: everything's familiar, and everyone knows the rules. There are highlights, like the pastoral openness and disjointed noise of \x93100 Years Before\x94 and the grinding rise and fall of \x93Wormwood\x94, but too often Coxon and Wales set up the kind of heads-down dirging group improvisation where no lead voice emerges and the music seems endless. The concluding piece, \x93Obscured\x94, may show off their chemistry, but it's a turgid way to end the record.
After they cut this album, Spring Heel Jack played some concerts with a band that took players from both sessions. A review in The Wire described a set where Coxon and Wales took an active role on-stage, Coxon playing guitar and Wales doing everything from blowing a trumpet to tearing up sheets of paper. If they make another record, they should think about making a live album-- they could document a challenging new context and give the jazz guys a chance to turn the tables, messing around with Coxon and Wales without a mixing board to hide behind.
