The Jamie Baum Septet + What Times Are These -Sunnyside Records |
I was first hooked on Jamie Baum's jazz/chamber concept in 2009, when I heard her brilliant album Solace, and got to experience the music in person at a show at New York City's respected venue Joe's Pub. Since then I have followed this composer as her music has continued to grow with sophistication, heroism, and creativity. Through the years the personnel have changed, but the musicians have always been some of the most progressive and talented available. This new release What Times Are These, on Sunnyside Records, got its genesis during the Covid shutdown period in 2020. As all activities came to an unexplainable halt, Baum realized the Covid-inspired isolation could be economically disastrous for an artist. She also realized that the downtime needed to be used to inspire creativity in her quest for a new musical project. During this time she discovered Bill Moyers' website "A Poet A Day" where he introduced poets to his readers as a way to expose them to"...a measure of joy, reflection, and meditation brought on by “the best words in the best order.” It eventually became a source of inspiration to this composer.
What Times Are These, is Baum's musical answer to how the spoken word can be a powerful expression of ideas, especially when reinforced by complementary music. Baum deftly interwove the ideas -the essence of the poetic messages- with her carefully crafted musical interpretations that these themes inspired within her. She uses seven poems from five different poets to tell their poignant stories. In some respect, it is a critical evaluation of where we have come as a society and asks the question What Times Are These?
The poems and the related songs remind us of the value of being "of use", in service, of remembering what we once took for granted, what always was and was now almost lost. They remind us of how on the way we have somehow lost our sense of "us" and "them" and become more obsessed about ourselves. The words take note of sorrow and disappointment about some of our collective actions and callused attitudes. Other words offer a remembrance of the loss of a loved one. Only to be transcended by acknowledging the celestial connection with the stars above us and the continuity they represent to all of us. The poems fight off depression over the realization that we are still in a world that is driven by prejudices based on age, ethnicity, gender, class, and color.
To create the music for these poems, Baum enlisted her latest Septet 6+ members in addition to several important guest artists. This version of the Septet+ includes Baum on flutes and spoken word (song 2); Jonathan Finlayson on trumpet and voice (song3); Sam Sadigursky on alto sax, clarinet, and bass clarinet; Chris Komer on French Horn; Brad Shepik on guitar and singing bowls; Luis Perdomo on piano and Fender Rhodes; Rickey Rodriguez on bass and electric bass; and Jeff Hirshfeild on drums.
Luis Perdomo, Jonathan Finlayson, Ricky Rodriguez, Sam Sadigursky, Jeff Herschfield, Chris Koner, Brad Shepik (Photo credit unknown) |
Theo Bleckmann |
Aubrey Johnson |
Keita Ogawa (photo credit unknown) |
KOKAYI |
Sars Serpa |
(Photo credits unknown)
The album includes ten complex, yet captivating compositions from Baum. There is the opener "In The Light of Day" which utilizes an ostinato piano line by Perdomo, and creative stacked ringing, metallic percussion by Ogawa at the opening. A majestic French horn by Komer opens up the music to beautifully executed and precise ensemble playing. Some beguiling alto flute by Baum with some facile interplay with Finlayson on trumpet and some powerful drum and bass work by Hershfeld and Rodriguez create a powerful opening statement.
Baum's breathy flute and Perdomo's cascading piano frame the word-spoken lines by the artist of the Marge Piercy poem "To Be of Use." The music expands over the repeating piano lines with Shepik's probing guitar, Sadigursky's tubular clarinet, and the cadenced drum work by Hershfield. There is a regimental feel to the music that bespeaks the idea of "being in use." Shepik's electric guitar takes flight, soaring with passion as the ensemble creates a beautiful, synchronous tonal background on which to build.
Tracy K. Smith's "An Old Story" opens with a vibrant electric bass entre by Rodriguez. There is a funky groove to this one, as it sets up the spoken word by trumpeter Jonathan Finlayson, who also offers a vibrant trumpet solo. Some fusion-like Rhodes work by Perdomo, and synchronous sinewy vocal lines by Aubrey Johnson are matched by flute and other ensemble members. Her voice elastically melts into the funky ensemble work like another tuned instrument.
Adrienne Rich's "In Those Years," a tome about the 'me' generation, features Theo Blekmann's ethereal voice. First, he is heard on an overdubbed choir-like opening and then he vocalizes the words of the poem followed in tandem with Perdomo's accompanying piano. The music becomes more intense as Baum utilizes repeating ensemble sections and cascading ascending and descending lines that give Bleckmann backgrounds on which to perform his darting, pointillistic vocalizations. His work leads to an apex after which Sadigursky's alto saxophone searches plaintively and gives the piece some loose freedom. Perdomo's piano takes over, brilliantly dancing with elan, spurred on by Rodriguez's throbbing bass and Hirshfield's syncopated drum work. Bleckmann returns, angelically vocalizing the final words of the poem, reprising an overdubbed choir-like hum at the coda.
Another poem by Rich, "What Kind of Times," finds the endearing soprano of Portuguese vocal stylist Sara Serpa. An angular and soulful guitar solo by Brad Shepik is another highlight. The music traces the words in modulating lines accenting certain words and drolling others giving it a sing-song-like treatment.
Lucille Clifton's "Sorrow Song" is given a modern hip/hop treatment opening with a complimentary rap written and sung by KOKAYI. Baum enters after the voice with a breathy, Rahsaan Kirk-inspired flute solo that smolders. Rodriguez's bass rocks. Shepik's guitar is next in line providing piercing, staccato accents. Hirshfield is let loose with some roiling drum work to the coda as KOKAYI's voice returns to finish this one with repeating refrains.
The album follows with a song dedicated to Baum's mom Edie, Naomi Shihab Nye's "My Grandmothers in the Stars " returning with Sara Sherpa's transcendent vocals. There is some distinctive bass clarinet work and a moving alto solo sax by Sadigursky.
It follows with "I am Wrestling with Despair" based on a poem by Marge Piercy. Baum composes the opening with a guitar and piano alternating repeated lines before the ensemble enters with Serpa's vocal navigating the slippery placement of the words with aplomb. A plaintive trumpet solo by Finlayson is another worthwhile feature.
"Dreams," like the opening "In a Light of Day" and its related reprise the closing " In the Day of the Light" are all Baum compositions not associated with a poem. "Dreams" opens with Komer's resonant French Horn solos and proceeds to have a call-and-response section between Komer's French horn and Sadigursky's alto sax. The ensemble then adds their own composed section of call and response before Baum offers her own angular alto flute solo. The solo brims with a subtle flow of ideas that hover with resonance. Perdomo is given a chance to be his most lyrical and the music coming from his keyboard is a delight.
The closer "In the Day of Light" is a bit of a reprise from the opening composition "In A Light Day". The music starts out with Rodriguez's repeating bass line and Perdomo's ostinato piano line. Ogawa's hand drums and percussion come into the fray. The individual; instruments, flute, French horn, bass clarinet, trumpet, drums, and bass all come into the mix each adding their own recurring lines. The music crescendos before it finds a brief plateau where Perdomo's piano and the rhythm section create a small exploration within the composition. The ensemble returns following a cacophony of organized sound before the relentless ostinato ends abruptly.