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Artist: Rob Mazurek Octet
Album: Skull Sessions
Genre: Avant-Garde Jazz, Free Improvisation
Label: Cuneiform Records
Released: 2013
Quality: FLAC (tracks)
Tracklist:
- Galactic Ice Skeleton
- Voodoo and the Petrified Forest
- Passing Light Screams
- Skull Caves of Alderon
- Keeping the Light Up
- Galactic Ice Skeleton (Radio Edit)
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- Personnel:
- Rob Mazurek - cornet
- Nicole Mitchell - flute
- Jason Adasiewicz - vibraphone
- John Herndon - drums
- Thomas Rohrer - C melody saxophone + rabeca
- Carlos Issa - guitar + electronics
- Mauricio Takara - percussion + cavaquinho
- Guilherme Granado - keyboards + electronics
With the Skull Sessions, the Rob Mazurek octet proudly bursts out of the closet with the sounds of feathers, fur, animal print spandex and a dash of sequin. And thank God for that. The primary strength of the ensemble and indeed this recording lay in the instrumentation and the luxurious textures they create. First, two drummers. For that, an immediate 4 stars. Hearing the liquidity of John Herndon and Mauricio Takara, makes most single percussion ensembles sound funerary and impoverished. Then there is Thomas Rohrer on the rabeca. You know, the rabeca. What's that? You don't know the rabeca? You will after you listen to Skull Sessions. Not to get all “world beat,” but as heard on the totally fantastic Kaiso Stories, “new” music often benefits from “new” instruments.
Jason Adasiewicz's fantastic vibraphone sensibilities, combined most notably with Nicole Mitchell's piccolo and the part time electronica of Carlos Issa, Guilherme Granado and Mr. Mazurek himself combine to make shimmering, enthralling sound environments which, among other things, bring to mind that special time when the hallucinogens have just taken hold, right before the walls start to bleed and the lamp starts to melt.
The bad trip part happens when written melodies are trotted out as prelude to solos. While there is nothing wrong with Mazurek's cornet playing, many were the times I felt like I was sitting behind the director at the premier, as he talked on his cell phone narrating his favorite parts as they happened—one reason why I no longer go to the movie theater (that and the shootings.) Mazurek, as fine an instrumentalist as he is, did not entrain my attention away from the far more fascinating band behind him. The solos were like pleather belts, distracting from the group's sparkly rainbow suspenders. The pants of this recording would have stood up just fine on their own without them. Yet we all know as the tail of consumer culture wags the dog of Art, a fascination with big shiny statement-buckles that say “look at me, I'm special” is just as inevitable as the deep seated societal fear of pants, any pants, falling down. It makes one wonder if there will come a time when you can even take your clothes off when you dance--or will it be Bow-tie Daddy until the bitter end?
Stanley Zappa