(Nemu)

Debut album by a high-octane improvisational quintet that peels themes and confrontational fermentations off the fruits of intelligent belligerency, comprising Bruce Eisenbeil (guitar), Klaus Kugel (drums), Perry Robinson (clarinet), Peter Evans (trumpets) and Hilliard Greene (double bass). Indeed, “themes” is not the correct word here, “photoemissions” is probably more appropriate. This group plays with educated fussiness, the artists placing their attention on the details that usually go unnoticed in those jazz strangleholds made of worn-out Real Book trash. Evans and Robinson do everything in their capacities to preserve the purest spirit of rebellion while channelling their unchristian rage into angular methodologies and proactive gleams of contingent beauty. The fabulous arco bass of Greene mixes lyricism with a burning, literally ferocious desire of opening the listener’s mind (check his “Iono” to believe). Kugel sacrifices every piece of his drum set to the god of explosive discrepancy, something that Ronald Shannon Jackson let us know very well over the years. Eisenbeil is caustic, smartly verbose when necessary, open to being raped by his comrades’ eruptions; he’s not afraid to put his feet right into the bloody Massacre (pun intended). The musicians are all completely taken by their roles of disintegrators of nostalgia. “Carnival skin” enters nothingness and rips it open, destroying all the prefabrications that wallpaper music constantly tries to build around us; their energy is devastatingly positive.

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