Just last week we brought you a trio recording with the bass-drum tandem of Scott Colley and Brian Blade. While those two have long been trio mates to saxophonist Benjamin Koppel, this is their second album, although it’s Blade’s fourth with the Austrian guitarist Wolfgang Muthspiel. Dance of the Elders follows the acclaimed 2020 Angular Blues which we covered on these pages. This is Muthspiel’s sixth album for ECM, and like many of the artists on the label his playing falls somewhere between lyrical and atmospheric, incorporating hints of both folk and classical music into his jazz where space seems to be the fourth collaborator. Needless to say, there is plenty of room for group interplay and the beauty is found in the nuances. No single track is going to stop you dead in your tracks, but the entirety of the project could. Get yourself in a dreamy, pensive, relaxing state to soak in these sublime tones, many rendered on his acoustic guitar with the electric making a few appearances as well.
The opening “Invocation” is a ten-minute journey in two parts. Quiet acoustic strumming begins in the most languorous, pensive way, soon inviting Colley, who at first laid back with his bowed bass before shifting to pizzicato, and a restrained Blade to join. Following a pause just after the six-minute mark, the momentum builds behind his liquid resonating guitar lines and Blade’s percussive injections. Sustaining the gentle pace is the group improvised “Prelude to Bach” where, without any preconceived notion, Muthspiel began quoting Bach’s chorale “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded” from his impulsive memory in his outro guitar solo. So, for the first fifteen minutes of the album, we are bathed in warm, pillowy textures, disruption occurring in the title track, studded with complex rhythms, series of folkloric time signatures, and unexpected, rare chordal voicings. This one though never settles into a steady even groove and is instead multidirectional though it features some of the most tangible trio interplay of any cut. Blade’s rhythmic percussive break simulates a hand-clapping pattern which leads to more inspired statements from the leader.
“Liebeslied,” by Kurt Weill, has Muthspiel exclusively on the electric, beginning deliberately but morphing into bop-like lines around the rhythm counterpoint. On aspect of Muthspiel’s playing, clearly evident by this point in the disc, is his burst-like runs that end with a sustained note that just seems to float off. He’s never hurried to resume but is content to just let the note linger for a few seconds. Here he cedes to the equally lyrical Colley, offering just the gentlest comping along the way while Blade’s pattering eventually prompts a return to the theme. “Folksong” features the acoustic in one of the album’s more consistently rendered melodic pieces. Inspired directly by Keith Jarrett, who rinsed and wrung out every aspect of a single chord. The sound is so crystalline that one can hear the guitarist’s nimble fret movements, to which Blade’s beats often coincidentally echo.
“Cantus Bradus” was composed with former quintet collaborator, pianist Brad Mehldau in mind as aficionados may glean from the repeated use of descending figures which Muthspiel describes as usually ending in a tonal, bluesy center. As per the guitarist’s style, we hear some unusual chords and intermittent tension. There are even a couple of short passages that feature flamenco-like guitar.
Arguably, he may have saved the best composition for the closer, the trio rendition of Joni Mitchell’s “Amelia,” a tune originally recorded by Mitchell with guitarist Larry Carlton in 1976 and covered in 1979 by Pat Metheny along with Lyle Mays, Jaco Pastorius, Michael Brecker, and Don Alias on Shadows and Light. The trio adheres more closely to the original version, displaying their melodic and lyrical talents, guided by Blade who has frequently collaborated with Mitchell and understands her so well.
There are no wasted notes, no overt showmanship, just intimate trio interaction that yields beautifully flowing, mesmerizing music. Sometimes it conjures such inexplicable curiosity, that you’ll return thinking you may have missed something the first time through.
