Ember with Orrin Evans: No One is Any One

To truly be in the headspace to appreciate the music of Ember, an understanding of the individuals making up the collective is paramount. The original compositions are not mind boggling, complex exercises brandishing the challenging dynamics of jazz composition in the 2020s. Refreshingly, the writing is open ended, containing melodies that come across as recitable mantras. The individual approaches to modern melodic improvisation within the collective memory of the musicians so easily rise to the surface of No One is Any One, in a way that is both intellectually interesting and at the same time free of intellectual distractions. The participants, including the listener, are free to explore their own intrinsic detachment and experience the sensory reception of the sound itself.

Alto saxophonist Caleb Wheeler Curtis, bassist Noah Garabedian, and drummer Vinnie Sperrazza have been down this road before. They met and began playing in 2017, with their gatherings being as much about conversation about music and values as about actual playing. In time, the trio released New Year (Outside in Music, 2018) under their individual names in 2018, and were just getting things rolling when the Covid-19 pandemic hit in March of 2020. From the outset, the members were aware of an openness and ease of expression that clearly grew from their mutual understanding of musical needs and ambitions, and shed light on a path of inspired development to come.

The natural chemistry between the three is an interesting study, with Garabedian and Sperrazza stemming from the tradition of groove- based instrumental r&b music, and Curtis more an adoptee of the jazz tradition. The union of the three is in many ways emblematic of the jazz scene growing in Brooklyn that often crosses lines of genre in joyous and innovative ways.

For their latest venture, Philadelphia based pianist Orrin Evans is added for four tracks, bringing a dimension in terms of harmony for sure, but as well spreading things out spatially within the context of the collective. Evans has had a significant impact on the creative development of Curtis' playing, both in small group settings and that of Evan's twice Grammy nominated Captain Black Big Band.

With the pandemic raging in New York, the trio began meeting outdoors in Prospect Park, their rehearsals becoming impromptu performances for a public starving for live music. The very organic quality of this recording is linked to those times of hardship that were nonetheless accompanied by a strong desire to keep things moving forward musically. The trio went into the studio in July of 2020 to record, bringing Evans into the fold.

The opening salvo, Curtis' "Reanimation (Zombie Tune),'' speaks loudly as to the identity of the trio. Bassist Garabedian holds down the bottom with a riff-rock bass line, carrying Wheeler with him in a sort of musical undertow. Garabedian leads us into his "Josephine and Daphne," a piece inspired by the film "Some Like it Hot," where the characters played by Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon adopt female personas to play in an all- female jazz band. Sperazza's title cut comes from the blues, employing its simplicity to eschew the "cult of personality." "Pilot Light" is a real time application of collective improvisation in a sense, with Curtis' detached referencing to the lead line mirrored by Garabedian's careful insertions and Sperrazza's embracing rhythms.

Evans is front and center on "Thomas," vibing the melody with Curtis. The intensity level of the record meters upward considerably, with Curtis laying down a riveting, on point solo. The dynamic and tonal range of his playing comes to full fruition, passing through moments both of sheer intensity and passive repose. Sperraza's fine work passes through the same emotions in such a way that defines his role on this recording. As Evans refers to the melody and moves on to his beautifully dynamic solo, Sperrazza is there in unbridled intensity, and is still able to reign it in with the pianist, in a titanic, symphonic splash of cymbal work.

While the collective process is stunning on this recording, what continually draws the listener in is Curtis' playing. It is strikingly interesting that in this new decade, perhaps the two most interesting alto saxophonists on the scene are both descendants of Evan's Philadelphia based "village" of musicians that move in and out of his Captain Black Big Band. Both Curtis and Immanuel Wilkins are creating groundbreaking music both as musicians and composers. While the twosome can be both caustic and genteel, Curtis has achieved a maturity and focus that manifests in his melodic approach to playing. His tunes are recitable to the listener, taking the melodies with them long after they have been heard. There is an almost ghostly presence to them. His improvised solos have the same qualities in a more unbridled sense. On the album's finale, "Harvey Pekar," those qualities are easily accessible. Curtis seems to sing on the instrument, more than playing it. Those reverberations throughout No One is Anyone are what will continue to draw the listener back time and again.

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