(Avant-Garde Jazz) Paal Nilssen-Love - Townorchestrahouse - 2005, MP3 , 320 kbps

Norwegian drummer Paal Nilssen-Love is one of the most critically acclaimed creative musicians working out of any country or in any field right now and for this session he’s assembled a suitably high-profile quartet of improvisers. Fellow countryman Ingebrigt Håker Flaten joins him on double bass to reconvene what is proving to be one of the most exciting rhythm sections in the world, whether playing blazing free-fusion with Raoul Björkenheim in Scorch Trio or the wildly exciting free jazz/garage rock hybrid of Mats Gustafsson’s The Thing. Swedish pianist Sten Sandell, another associate of Gustafsson and more latterly Chicago’s Ken Vandermark, adds a certain transatlantic weight to the band. But it’s the inclusion of British saxophonist Evan Parker that really hints at something special. After nearly 40 years of pushing at the boundaries as one of the original free improvisers, a masterful soloist, and prolific recording artist, Parker’s presence here alongside the most progressive younger players of the fertile Scandinavian scene promises much.
And, from beginning to end, this live set does not disappoint. Surprisingly, this intergenerational meeting of European improv heavyweights produces a great slab of old-fashioned, New Thing, 1960s American-style free jazz. It’s muscular, aggressive, energetic—and hugely satisfying. The first half-hour long jam, “Town”, begins, fittingly enough, with Nilssen-Love’s signature cymbal sound: not a crash but a clean, bell-like chime. From there, we’re tipped straight into a dark, disorientating brew of sounds, with beefy tenor runs from Parker, imperious Cecil Taylor-esque piano explorations, long, moaning bass notes, and, underneath it all, bubbling, boiling drums. In fact, as the intensity rises and falls, the music closely resembles a pan of water being constantly brought to the boil, allowed to cool and simmer, and then brought back to boiling point.
Throughout, Nilssen-Love’s busy percussive activity sounds utterly unique, steering clear of the usual, overdriven, clattering snare rolls and crashes and instead investigating the possibilities of detuned, flaccid skins—bringing forth a rich variety of unusual timbres sounding at one moment like tablas, the next like half-filled jugs of water, building up to a roiling, fizzing, tumbling tumult with cymbals like clouds of steam. Parker’s tenor is the focal point here, though. In the quieter moments the sound of noteless valve manipulations adds an intimate extra percussive layer, but when the band is raging, Parker pitches in with muscular exhortations, dipping into boppish refrains that provide a momentary fragment of clarity before launching into Ayler-style false register squeals. There’s also some fierce interplay between Parker and Sandell, as they spur each other on in great spurts and gouts of energy. Elsewhere, the piano offers intricate arachnoid scabblings that can turn up the heat in a split second. Håker Flaten remains remarkably subdued throughout but comes into his own in the last few minutes with a growling bass solo that just hints at the blues, skirting the riffs that are almost there, delivered with a big, thumping, deeply vibrating attack way down low at the bottom end.
If the first track resembles a pan of boiling liquid, the second, “Orchestra”—another half-hour improvisation—comes on like a whole weather system. There’s an irresistible sense of climbing upwards with Parker’s long, perilous, looping runs on the soprano sounding like an attack of vertigo. Up and up we go, with rising piano curlicues, and pitter-patter rain cloud percussion. Deep piano rumblings bring a sense of something brewing before bright cymbal flashes tip us right into the heart of a stormy maelstrom. The centerpiece of this track is a four-minute interlude highlighting Parker’s remarkable and utterly unmistakable circular breathing technique on soprano, with notes pouring out in a wild yet somehow deliciously mathematical torrent, building and rising in complexity. The rest of the band drops out (one suspects in something close to awed reverence) to let Parker take this solo flight. In truth, he literally blasts them off the stage.
Finally, we have the encore, “House”—a manly, glowering eight-minute free-for-all with rasping tenor, hulking bass, lightning percussion, and dervish piano. In the final few seconds the band even settles into something resembling a groove, tantalizingly trailing off before the riff takes hold. It’s no surprise at all that the loud cheers of the live audience have a decidedly masculine sound. This is tough stuff.