Discus head Martin Archer‘s idea to add Julie Tippetts and Charlotte Keeffe to the line-up that recorded last year’s Yes Tomorrow was an inspired one, allowing the octet to straddle the borders of swinging, classic jazz with a freer, more progressive approach, shading in the areas between and generally having a fine old time if the smiles on the album photograph are anything to go by.
Julie’s voice is as warm and free as you could possibly want, an unfettered delight, stepping around the sax, drawing the players back to the opening motif, after off-piste thrills and romantic introspection flash by. There are nods to the past with the feelgood swingin’ groove that would be perfect in some basement supper club, punters dancing around the tables in thrall to Julie’s scatting as it hits the sweet spot that links jazz, folk and classical, ever shadowed by Charlotte’s horn.
The willingness to mix things up all the way through the album means that the longform pieces sit neatly with more standard song-based tracks; “Golden Boat” with its guitar and drum propelled jazz-rock feel contains Julie’s evocative words. There is a subtle insistence, the drums a dreamy, drifting force that couldn’t be more different to the following “Purple Dance”, all rudderless freedom and spectral vocals. It is lent a spasmodic drama with a constant movement of tone and something for the other players to match. When the horns all blow together, it fills a sound spectrum and gives a framework to the delightful guitar on “Don’t Ask Why”. The bassline is shooting away with the track and it feels as though the group’s interaction becomes more natural as time goes on, although Julie’s presence adding extra magic perhaps heightens their efforts, enhancing every note.The jumps between structure and freedom lend a sense of journey to the album and Julie’s woodland calls and ululations on “Latu / Reunion” lend a wildness that infuses the others, notes scattered across the leaf litter, scorched streaks seen through the canopy, rhythmic awkwardness like knotted roots tripping the unwary. Martin finally leads the way out, his horn blasts clearing the way.
Another longform piece closes the album, a spatial guitar and drum excursion that draws horns in, leading to very different phases with a sense of jubilation as the sax burns brightly then flames out, exhausted waiting for back-up. Julie’s presence is magnetic; it feels as though the group wants to be a part of what she is doing and moves in a trajectory around her, until James Owston‘s mellow bass solo cleanses the palate, a study in dexterity that warms the heart. Nobody hogs the limelight here, and through the nineteen minutes of “It’s A Matter Of Fact / Ahimsa / Dreaming Again”, the generosity of spirit is really shown by the textural support given to the soloists, even Steve Saunders‘s awkward guitar shapes and Charlotte’s wayward runs.Their willingness to circle back and refresh the listener’s memory with how things started is just the icing on a diverting and really satisfying cake and this album is further proof that Paul Dunmall is a name to trust.
-Mr Olivetti-
