The Occasional Quintet‘s first recorded outing is a low-key masterpiece that finds the five players, Sam Richards on piano, Ric White on sax and electronics, Eliza Jacobs on cello, Roger Hall on bass and Steve Day on percussion, convening for an hour’s improv at Ashburton Arts Centre.
Split into six sections, Recording Rites starts as a progressive, surreptitious unfurling, the instruments gradually awakening into a half-light of squeals, brushes and percussive hints. You can sense the players swapping glances, offering opportunities, little tasters of what is to come.
The percussion is a stream of stamps and rattles, causing an outcry of unfamiliar sounds, and the slow agglomeration of instruments feels like the soundtrack to something unseen but will appear in its own good time; but for now the listener is just looking over their shoulder, waiting. The production is such that you can make out each player in all their subtle glory, from the low keen of the double bass through the shielded wail of cello to the scattered heartbreak piano. The heart-attack percussion and panting sax are accompanied by the growl of electronics that lurk in the shadowy spaces. The six sections do differ, a wild sax and melancholy piano duet opening “”Rites 2”. There is a hint of Ennio Morricone‘s Il Gruppo in the sense of creeping dread and the relentless forward motion. A trickle of piano allows a moment’s pastoral respite that opens the atmosphere up before strings sweep low and insistent. It is a constantly expanding vista that often finds two instruments pairing up briefly before something else sweeps that into the past; a brief trickle of water, the sound of frogs, it never settles and not one single second is repeated. The constant drive to evolve and pursue is felt by all five players and the breadth of sounds is fantastic, with bowed cymbals and gong clearing the air ready for the next meandering assault..Bass and piano offer sparse, haunted accompaniment with cymbal cries and a full width of musical textures in section three, with the percussion gradually raising the temperature briefly and stirring it into free-flowing maelstrom that allows the players to shake loose as the piece builds to an unexpected crescendo, the dancing sax leading the way through the wreckage. The segues are almost imperceptible, although the openings are generally gentler; but there is a natural flow to each piece that the quintet subliminally understands. The percussion is almost rhythmic on section four, with the odd vocal interjection; but the furniture-moving joy as the piece proceeds makes it seem as though it is your floor that is being stomped.
Things slow down a little, allowing the rivulets of piano to dictate the direction, an offbeat melody drawing the others in its wake before transforming like Mr Hyde into a torrid outpouring of drama. There is no time for coasting here as there is always somebody waiting, preparing a spark that will catch fire and urge things onward; but towards the end, the low key melancholy of the piano is a mood changer, stilling the other players briefly as they search for an appropriate entry point. Due the length of the pieces here, there is always that opportunity, but perhaps the most extraordinary thing is how much you discover with each listen. You could leave this album on repeat for the day and it wouldn’t grow old.Whether this is a one-off or not, I have no idea; but Recording Rites is a sublime example of improv players working together, adding just enough to keep the listener intrigued. Perfectly weighted, it is a joy from start to finish.
-Mr Olivetti-
