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Those who miss one of the most original and enterprising bands
of the last century, the Paul Motian Trio, will be heartened to
hear that this band, despite comprising more than double the number of players
(two saxophones: Chris Cheek, Tony Malaby; three guitars: Steve Cardenas,
Ben Monder, Jakob Bro; a bassist: Jerome Harris; plus the drummer/leader),
could have been modelled, as far as its overall sound and approach go, on
the smaller outfit.
The Motian trademarks (a penchant for pattering and stuttering through slow, rubato pieces from which the instrumental sounds emerge like flickering flames from a smouldering log; sudden passages of time playing that throw the rest of the music into stark relief; a brooding, hovering quality to many of his themes; the ability to transform apparently familiar material into quintessential Motian music) are all present, but what is particularly impressive about this band, whether it's addressing Mingus ('Goodbye Pork Pie Hat', 'Pithecanthropus Erectus'), Monk ('Evidence'), Parker ('Cheryl') or originals by Motian and his sidemen, is the subtlety of its interaction, its use of space, texture and contrast to bring out all the complexities in the music.
Motian is a master drummer, able to propel a band gently but firmly through the slowest, trickiest tempo; on this, as on many previous albums, he proves that he is a peerless leader as well.