Pianist Julian Shore immerses the listener in journeys, both physical and emotional, as he assembles a stellar band, capable of conveying his deeply personal observations on Where We Started. Many of the players have long-standing shared histories. Shore has toured, performed, and recorded with saxophonists Caroline Davis (4 tracks) and Oded Tzur (closing track only) in their own groups. After years of playing Shore’s music, drummer Colin Stranahan is an anchor through the album’s shifting aesthetics. And at times the musicians share a unique sound that makes them seem as one such as Dayna Stephens (tenor and soprano) on EWI blending with Edward Perez’s arco bass on the opener, “Preludio” which sets an ethereal, eerie tone for what follows.
The sound of Ben Monder’s guitar bookends Where We Started, from the album’s introductory moments to the closing title track. The guitarist contributes to Shore’s sonic as only he can, crafting each piece’s specific atmosphere. It is fitting that “Preludio” carried the working title of “Guitar Song”; the album reflects Shore’s connection to guitarists, both as sources of inspiration and as collaborators. “The seed for that [piece] started with a Zsófia Boros solo guitar record for ECM,” says Shore. “I was hypnotized by its intense purity of sound, even simply how the silence allowed space for the microphone to pick up all her subtle movements.”
While this is Shore’s first record not to feature any singers, vocal music is the source of two tracks. The band interprets the 16th-century madrigal “O Vos Omnes” by the Italian prince Carlo Gesualdo, as well as Gil Evans’ iconic arrangement of Gershwin’s “Oh Bess, Oh Where’s My Bess.” Evans’ arrangements shaped Shore’s approach as a composer and pianist here, particularly in the bold use of counter lines and shades of color that can sometimes obscure melodies. Shore often favors complex textures and emotional nuance over single lines and simple meanings. Likewise, Shore also found himself moved by Gesualdo’s desperate retreat into composing as a means of processing the unthinkable. Gesualdo, aside from being a revered composer, is also known for the murder of his family after discovering his wife in flagrante delicto with her lover. “His music is an incredible mix of darkness and lightness, the holy and powerful mingles with intense drama and uncertainty. “
Essentially the album is all about textures and colors, achieved by effectively blending the instruments and this piece, with Davis’ alto, Stephens’ soprano, and Monder’s guitar is a prime example, also stitched together by Shore’s use of synths with acoustic piano chords and single notes. The Gershwin piece, carried by a quartet led by Shore’s pensive piano and a few droplets of color from Stephens’ tenor, is even more quietly reflective. The challenge of holding these extremes within the same piece of music reflects the human struggle. Both pieces carry the resonance of the cry ‘Oh!’ as an entreaty into the unknown, a sonic manifestation of the spiritual search for inner and outer answers.
This embrace of our perceived flaws echoes lessons from early in Shore’s musical education. His mentor, Panamanian pianist Danilo Pérez, brought Shore to Panama to perform and to have the rare opportunity to learn from Wayne Shorter and his quartet. Shore remembers Pérez stressing the importance of “playing the parts of yourself you don’t like” and the freeing lesson from Shorter that true originality can only come from knowing who you are. “He told us that it’s impossible to be Coltrane or Miles, you didn’t live their life, being an original means simply creating music that comes out of your own life.” These masters stressed the importance of accepting all parts of oneself and exposing them through music. “Returning to that advice in the process of making this record, I felt myself finally starting to understand a little of what that truly means.”
Shore hails from the ocean town of Narragansett, Rhode Island which is the inspiration for much of the physical landscape, be it the song “Marshes, Amphibians” or less directly “Winds, Currents” and “Tunnels, Speed;” not to mention the album cover depicting a solitary structure perched atop a jetty, which stands in sharp relief against a background of drifting snow and rolling fog. On the former, one can easily visualize multiple species of teeming life. The album is not only about layers and textures but at heart about solitude and the idea of returning to familiar or favorite places with a new perspective.
Another nod to his home state is Shore’s earlier formative experience hearing the great Hal Crook every week in the smoke-filled Providence club AS220. Crook was Shore’s teacher for many years, and this mentorship looms large. Crook, whose piece the ominous “Nemesis” is placed at the album’s center, rendered by a quartet with Stephens as the lone horn, set against piano, synths and terrific drumming from Stranahan across the shifting dynamics in tempo and in sound that begins electronically and shifts to acoustic in Shore’s skittering solo. Stephens’ re-entry summons the synth as the tune begins to fade. The listener can be frightened and soothed in the same piece.
These are eight highly moody, textured compositions. Suggest you just get settled comfortably and let the music take you away.
