Zack Clarke: Mesophase
Clean Feed

A fuller appreciation of what pianist Zack Clarke is doing on Mesophase is acquired by first considering its highly regarded predecessor, Random Acts of Order, the NY-based artist's 2017 debut for Clean Feed Records. Partnering with bassist Henry Fraser and drummer Dre Hocevar, Clarke to a large degree deconstructs the piano trio paradigm on the set, liberating it from long-standing tropes by threading electronic treatments into the mix. It would be wrong to think, however, that the re-imagining is merely a matter of sound design; more critically, Clarke transforms the trio concept in the radical approach applied to the material. That album title ultimately proves apt in acknowledging the co-presence of structure, coherence, spontaneity, and unpredictability, the three instrumentalists collectively allowing the music to develop in the moment as it will. Certainly the usual lines between individual and ensemble playing collapse, each player an equal force and integral to the result. Texture and atmosphere are favoured over melody and regulated pulse, the three demonstrating in the performances a full commitment to free-flowing abstraction and exploration.

That's not to suggest that an individual voice doesn't occasionally occupy the forefront—Fraser's furious bowing, for instance, is the initial focal point of the bold opener, “Before the Cause” (even if the electronic swarm seething around it commands the attention, too)—but more to suggest that the presentation constantly shifts and mutates. That introductory cut is somewhat of a template for the recording in the way it transitions through multiple episodes, from electronics-drenched soundscaping to introspective trio interplay. Throughout the release, the leader's angular voicings mesh well with the drummer's painterly approach, and Fraser and Hocevar show themselves to be remarkably versatile and enthusiastic (hear how inventively they follow Clarke's lead in “Act 1,” for example), well-equipped to meet whatever formidable challenge the leader throws their way. Random Acts of Order doesn't wholly sever itself from jazz's history, with Clarke hinting at it in the Monkish lines unspooled during “Act 1” (as does Fraser, seemingly, when a bowed flourish briefly recalls Ornette's violin sawing) and in the echoes of Keith Jarrett that shadow his playing in “Up on the High.” But for the most part Clarke uncontrovertibly marks himself as more visionary than follower on the release.

Recorded in April 2017 in Brooklyn, Mesophase builds on the advances made by the earlier release, not only in moving from trio to quintet but in bringing the concept to its next natural stage of development. Clarke's joined by cellist Chris Irvine, double bassist Nick Dunston, percussionist Leonid Galaganov, and Charlotte Greve, whose saxophone, clarinet, and flute contributions are especially pivotal to the outcome. When heard alongside Random Acts of Order, Mesophase might on paper appear to exemplify a slightly more normalized sound due to the enlarged number of acoustic elements, but it turns out to be as radical in approach and very much a continuum of the earlier set.

Its title is likewise relevant to the performance concept, Clarke clarifying in his liner notes that the physics-related term describes “a state of matter that is neither liquid nor solid, sharing properties of both while defining a state unique unto itself.” Such polarities are analogous to electronic and acoustic elements that come together in always provocative ways. Like its predecessor, Mesophase achieves a rapprochement between disparate forces that's both fascinating and startling. In place of arrangements that would feature the electronic aspect as a backdrop to acoustic interplay, Clarke treats the former as a sixth instrument, so to speak, that interacts with the other elements as an equal, if different, voice. At times, the electronic dimension dominates. A seething storm of what sounds like processed bird noise introduces “Bravery,” for instance, after which Clarke opts for an extended exploration of reverb-heavy atmospherics rather than an acoustic sequence. Other tracks see the elements presented in balanced manner, a representative example “Assimilate,” where ruptures of flute, drums, double bass, and cello collide with the grinding churn of industrial electronic effects.

In settings that range from ponderous to turbulent, the leader calibrates his piano playing to suit each track's mood. While all of his guests are critical to the result, Greve in particular impresses when her woodwinds add vivid, contrasting colour to the material. Hearing her acrobatic flute ride a shape-shifting flow of electronics during “Curtain” provides but one of many memorable moments on the release. That said, highlighting her risks devaluing the contributions the others make to assist Clarke in realizing his vision (consider, for example, how important Irvine's bowed groan is to the otherwise electronics-drenched “Infiltration”). Referring to the process of creating Mesophase, Clarke likened it to “feeling less like construction and more like a discovery and translation of something that is already there,” a characterization that's applicable to both releases as well as emblematic of the pianist's forward-thinking sensibility.

February 2019