An Imaginative Approach to Jazz Dialogue

courtesy of Braithwaite & Katz Communications

One of the more interesting jazz albums that came my way towards the end of last year is Between Two Worlds. This is a trio performance by Jeff Denson on bass, Romain Pilon on guitar, and Brian Blade on drums. The “two worlds” are those of Denson and Pilon, each of whom composed five of the tracks on the album. Those by Pilon can, for the most part, be identified by their French titles: “Sucré,” “En Trois Temps,” “Géneration,” “Madrid,” and “Azur.” (Yes, the spelling of the capital of Spain is the same in both English and French; but treating it as French gives Pilon his full complement of five!) The compositions by Denson are “Song of a Solitary Crow,” “Nostalgic Farewell,” “Listen Up,” “Lost and Found,” and the title track, “Between Two Worlds.”

As might be expected, Pilon tends to carry the melody in all ten of the selections. Nevertheless, there are distinctive ways in which one is more aware of Denson in his compositions. For example, “Song of a Solitary Crow” begins as a latter-day reflection on one of the oldest musical structural forms, a lament, characterized by the descending bass line. Like a vocalist in a pre-Classical opera, Pilon weaves a series of variations around that bass, thereby making Denson very much an equal partner, if not the center of attention for those of us with historical sensitivities.

I have to confess that, as an “old-timer” where jazz is concerned, I am not particularly familiar with any of the performers on this disc. In an effort to establish some context, I spent more time than usual trying to dig up material about each of them from a variety of sources. In that context I have to say that I would take issue with one critic that suggested that Denson was “channeling Charlie Haden and Charles Mingus.” I have to argue that Denson is nowhere near Mingus’ league, whether it has to do with invention or the rhetorical delivery of what was invented. On the other hand one of the things I tend to appreciate about Haden might be called his “depth of understatement.” I think Denson has caught on to that trait and seems to have figured out how to take it in a direction of his own.

That said, I have no trouble granting the breadth of invention that I encountered on this recording; so, while the content is currently unfamiliar, I suspect that I shall return for further listening experiences to see if that familiarity grows a bit.