The Source
…but swinging doesn’t bend them down
NORWAY Odin Records ODINCD9577 CD (2021)
Deliciously dour music. Some apocalyptic career-jazz from this quartet of vintage smilers who, judging from the cover photos, spend their time – when they’re not perfecting their dystopian tapestries of jazz dissonance in a dark and fetid rehearsal room somewhere underground as is the tradition faced by all those poor souls, myself included, who as youngsters mistakenly believed a professional life as a musician would bring wonders, wealth and magic to their existence – trudging through the undergrowth of Nordic forest to gain access to unspoilt ancient woodland and stunning views of mountains and lakes from suitable altitudes to snap with their iPhone cameras in order to inspire their next musical journeys. I jest, of course. Alumni of the Trondheim Music Conservatory Jazz Course – and sometime purveyors of eccentric headgear – The Source are: Ingebrigt Haker Flaten on bass, Per Oddvar Johansen on drums, Trygve Seim on saxophone and Oyvind Braekke on trombone and these brutal-looking MFs began operations as The Source way back in 1993. In actual fact, Mats Eilertsen is the bassist on this recording, indeed I gather he’s been a permanent member since 2004. In case you were wondering, the album title references the poem “Birches” by Robert Frost. Frost’s poem considers the intimate knowledge he has from childhood of the behaviour of beech trees when the forces of subzero weather storms or when children who like to climb trees are applied to their branches. The Source make no other reference to this poem, so we are left to wonder the significance of this to the band by ourselves.
As I mentioned before, there is a trove of beautiful black and white images of Nordic rurality contained within the enclosed booklet. I’m entertained to see a couple of pictures of the quartet unselfconsciously goofing around included which makes the whole package a lot less po-faced and serious, which I like. Apocalyptic career-jazz doesn’t have to be humourless all the time. As a listener, I am personally less interested or inspired by the more “melodic” end of “jazz” generally, however though The Source’s music doesn’t necessarily make me want to routinely go back to this album to give it multiple listens, even for a wilful jazz killjoy such as myself, there are plenty of nice moments.
The opening piece, “Rusletur”, is a big, charming lump of melodic narrative squashed into thirty seconds and sounds like it could be a segment out of a live recording that everybody in the band loved so much they just had to keep it in. Following swiftly on is “Monday” which harks back to the kind of finesse displayed by the late 50s Miles Davis groupings and actually gives me goosebumps. By far my favourite piece here and smashing these two recordings together in this way is a great fun way to start an album. Things don’t hit quite as hard on the third and fourth cuts, but on “Rubicon” there is a rather plaintive section where the sax and trombone lock in while the drummer skitters all over the place that more than makes up for that. Next, “Spring Psalm” starts slow and relaxed, like a morning raag. Lilac horizon and high clouds. Just like that time you spent the night under a dusty blanket on a shop porch on the road to the airport cos you somehow ended up getting back to the city a day early with empty pockets – no chillum, no chai. After three minutes or so, things settle, and the saxophone takes on an almost Pungi-like timbre. No snakes to charm here though.
Talking of raags, here’s one: “Raag Löyly”, where it is the bassist’s turn to begin with an attempt at Indian scales. This is rapidly superseded by a pleasant interlocking melody from the trombone and sax. Elsewhere, things get a little more aimless. “Rubato all Grande” is beautifully played but ultimately it is hard to discern a point to it. The barely-audible-at-kitchen-volume drum solo at the end I find particularly perplexing. “Big Shuffle” unexpectedly shakes its ass with the best of them – I want to call it a “strut” but even I might draw the line there. The sax player is loving it. It’s fine, but The Meters it surely ain’t. Trying hard with the melody, “Responsorium” buzzes around like confused miner bees looking for a suitable place to build a hive. The gist is circular, and quite possibly inebriated. Or should be.
There’s no shortage of material here; let’s consider “Momk”. I’m not sure if this is a deliberate, cryptic misspelling of Monk, or completely unconnected. “The piano ain’t got no wrong notes” Thelonius used to say. Until now. And they don’t even have a piano (!) Boom boom. I’m here all week. But look; this track is impossibly jolly. It makes me want to dance like Oliver Hardy. It’s like the saxophonist and the trombonist are playing completely different sheet music that occasionally, implausibly align from time to time. The pinpoint ending is as deliberately trite as you might expect it to be. On “Theme for Alvar Wirkola”, the group are slowing things down, Johanson plays his toms like he’s channelling the late great Mimi Parker. It’s only three minutes long, but it seems a lot shorter, which is a shame as I really dig this one. I’ve no idea who Alvar Wirkola is, though. Finally, we reach “Dawn”. As the album has been winding down nicely at this point, I find there’s maybe a little too much complexity and “musicianship” being demonstrated here, whether willingly or not. Just enough time for another drum solo right at the end before the inevitable resolution of the theme from the horns. These themes are surprise houseguests sat there in the room with you, hogging the sofa cushions and insisting on the good biscuits. And like most surprise houseguests, inadvertently outstaying their welcome ever so slightly.
Although I have been occasionally critical, it is probably important to say that this album has grown on me with subsequent listens. At first, I was unsure of the group’s motivations in terms of what initially appeared to be a fairly traditional approach, but it has moments of magic and wonder; overall, it’s a very authoritative ride on the ghost train.