A Revolving Alliance

Often, when I'm listening to contemporary jazz records, I think of a quote by Art Blakey. 

He famously said: "And when we're on the stand and we see that there are people in the audience who aren't patting their feet and who aren't nodding their heads to our music, we know we're doing something wrong."

Unfortunately, the reason it keeps coming back to me is that I hear less and less of that approach in those records. 

It feels as if, in these contemporary musicians' minds and in their work, the importance of the creator and their needs has far surpassed that of the recipient, the audience. 

Or to put it more bluntly, the genius artist is there to play for themselves. We are merely allowed to observe, and perhaps admire.

Now, don't get me wrong, the record I'm reviewing here, Matt Slocum's A Revolving Alliance has some moments. "Two Dragons" is a nice post-bop jam where the instrumentalists finally not only listen to themselves but also create something worth engaging with. 

But the meanderings of other tracks just put me off. And it's not because the music is inherently bad, or because these people don't know how to play it. No, it's because there is nothing in it for me, the listener.

WHAT I KNOW ABOUT THIS RECORD

A Revolving Alliance is Matt Slocum's fourth outing, but the first to consist solely of originals. 

From the accompanying info, I learned that the album has been conceived as a narrative arc, with the last track mirroring and inverting the opening one. 

Overall, the album supposedly focuses on themes of hope and societal unraveling, although, as with most instrumental music, the connection is probably stronger in the artist's mind than it can be communicated to anyone else.

HOW DOES IT SOUND?

A Revolving Alliance is a great-sounding release and the first thing you notice is a very strong and very logical mix. 

Three instruments, each occupying its space on the soundstage (guitar on the left, bass in the middle, and drums on the right). Nobody's fighting with anybody for space. Lines are clear to follow. There's plenty of air between the musicians.

It's the kind of mix that makes this music easy to enjoy.

The sound is slightly warm, which I also like. Both guitar and drums can be captured with a bright tone, but that often results in jagged tones which, after a while, create nothing but listening fatigue. 

This doesn't happen here. The guitar sounds lush, even in the more sonoristic passages. The drums have the (well, perhaps, slightly subdued) gentle ring of the cymbal so associated with jazz, and they never overshadow the other players dynamically. 

The bass perhaps seems pushed a little too far into the background. But I'll admit that, as a former double bass player, I am rarely satisfied with the bass sound overall. So take this comment with a pinch of salt.

An interesting thing I discovered about this release when researching it for the review is that this is an all-analog production. The album was recorded live to two-track analog tape, with the trio performing together in the same room. There are no edits, or post-session "fixes" (source)

The album was mastered by Bernie Grundman; as as per Slocum's account, Grundman used no EQ during mastering, bypassing the board entirely to preserve the signal captured by Farber (source).

From the sound perspective, I can only say that I wish more contemporary jazz artists took so much pride in their recording process and their albums sounded like this one. Then, at least the audiophile in me would be satisfied. 

FINAL TAKE

A Dissolving Alliance is not a bad record. It's certainly one of the better sounding contemporary records today. But it's perhaps one that serves the creator more than the audience, and from that perspective, it disappoints rather than connects with me on any level.