Six Of One

Beware the solo improv album. Ever since Keith Jarrett singlehandedly made it unhip for skilled musicians to improvise in an accessible, tuneful way, improvised music has been largely the province of self-indulgent twerps who think that the ability to alienate audiences with hideous noise is an artistic gift. (Those who like hideous noise aren't complaining, mind you.) But saxophone virtuoso Evan Parker has always been just a bit different. Yes, he's eminently capable of producing ear-splitting skronk with the best and worst of them, but his solo improvisations are just as frequently things of kaleidoscopic delicacy and genuinely breathtaking inventiveness. This recording, which was made in a London church in 1980 (and had been out of print on LP for 20 years when it was reissued on CD in 2002) finds Parker exploring the sonic limits of his soprano saxophone in ways that evoke both the more adventurous jazz-based work of Anthony Braxton and future recordings by downtown legend John Zorn. His mastery of circular breathing techniques means that these pieces -- several of which are over ten minutes long -- proceed without interruption from beginning to end. Most are completely abstract and sound a bit like sped-up tape recordings of sea gulls being molested. But on "Three of Six" he begins with an angular but surprisingly lyrical melody, then gradually tears it apart and breaks it down into a series of fierce, angry squawls; on "Five of Six" he takes a similar approach, starting with a gentle melody played with a warm, open tone and then altering the tone of his saxophone drastically and using overtones and multiphonics to expand the melodic line into something entirely different. Every track on this album is worth hearing, and some of them are quite startlingly lovely. ~ Rick Anderson