Photographer Paula Rae Gibson is an intriguing character, well renowned in her chosen profession; she has also spent time writing and recording experimental jazz-based music, sporadically releasing albums on the 33 label. The latest on 33 Extreme finds her teaming up once again with pianist and composer Kit Downes and trumpeter Alex Bonney for an hushed, intense collection of late-night tales.
The abstract electronic patter and weave is a stark backdrop at times, but ever-moving as the words fall like bitter fruit and the songs, which all run together, change their focus depending on the main instrument; spare post-jazz guitar leads a tale of despair, while trumpet is the main accompaniment for a stark tale where “she buried her own son”. The stories here seem to tell themselves, Paula’s voice a conduit which changes character for each lovingly prepared song.
I am reminded in parts of Grouper; but incredibly, this feels more emotionally charged, sounds moving awkwardly in the shadows, wary of leaving a mark. Thankfully, the mood is lighter in places, with the pleasant glow of electronics allowing the voice a little more air; but progress is restless and even though Paula’s delivery is often measured and drawn out, it is compelling, with the sporadic addition of Kit’s dirge-like cello really allowing things to dive into the abyss. Due to the constant segues, there is no opportunity to draw breath; another dose of heartbreak is accompanied by Rob Luft‘s blunt, heavy acoustic guitar and the roundabout squeak of the cello. There is a restlessness and an almost pathological desire to divulge; but the whispered effect holds a reticence that pulls in the other direction, though there is enough switching between the main players as well as the diversity in vocal delivery to hold the listener rapt. I would imagine with headphones there would be no escape.Paula constantly draws you in, repeating, “let’s go on the journey of a lifetime” over lugubrious cello until you are convinced it is you she is talking to; or obsessing over the maniacal repetition of noir trumpet and rain-on-roof patter while the final track, which involves a male voice, leaves us with more questions than answers as it descends further into darkness: “Out of the blue you came; I told you to wait”.
The Roles We Play To Disappear is an extraordinary collection of pieces that at points remind of Laurie Anderson or Sarabeth Tucek, but with a magnifying glass taken to the heart, everything opened up but then held in shadow. It requires in-depth listening and you find those shadows really do linger.-Mr Olivetti-
