Mike Fahie Jazz Orchestra: Urban(e)
Greenleaf Music

Numerous cases can be cited of rock groups tackling classical works, be it Emerson, Lake, and Palmer's Pictures at an Exhibition and Fanfare For The Common Man or, going back further, “Beck's Bolero.” Jazz figures have also taken on the challenge, among them pianist Uri Caine, whose Mahler, Bach, and Wagner treatments all merit attention, and guitarist Eric Hofbauer, who's released with his quintet bold re-imaginings of works by Stravinsky, Messiaen, and Ives. Now Brooklyn-based trombonist Mike Fahie takes his turn, with the debut album by his large ensemble interpreting Chopin, Debussy, Puccini, and others.

At eighteen members strong, the outfit is well-positioned to tackle such a project, especially given the lustrous hues a band comprising saxophonists (Aaron Irwin, Anton Denner, Chet Doxas, Quinsin Nachoff, Carl Maraghi), trumpeters (Brian Pareschi, David Smith, Sam Hoyt, Brad Mason), trombonists (Fahie, Matthew McDonald, Nick Grinder, Daniel Linden, Jennifer Wharton), guitarist (Jeff Miles), pianist (Randy Ingram), bassist (Pedro Giraudo), and drummer (Jeff Davis) is capable of generating.

In conflating words associated with sophistication and the vitality and grit of the street, the album title cleverly alludes to the melding of classical and jazz idioms and Fahie's genuine attempt to realize that fusion cohesively. His experiences as the lead trombonist of Darcy James Argue's Secret Society (Argue produced Urban(e), by the way) and as a member of the Gramercy Brass Orchestra of New York and Gramercy Brass Quintet certainly indicates he's got the requisite skills for the challenge. Each piece receives a thorough workout, with seven tracks totaling nearly seventy minutes. None is shorter than seven minutes, and two, the third movement from Bartók's first string quartet and a distillation of Stravinsky's The Firebird, weigh in at twelve and fourteen, respectively.

Chopin's “Prelude op. 28 no, 20” (1839) initiates the recording on a dignified, somber note with a progression of quarter-note chords before the segue into a jazzier mode occurs. Fahie's attention to detail and orchestral colour impresses, as does the seamless integration of solos by Ingram and a baritone-wielding Maraghi. One also comes away from the performance impressed by the leader's deft coupling of jazz and classical elements—a promising start. The woodwinds-heavy intro to “Nessun Dorma” likewise bodes well for Fahie's interpretation, and cast in the lead role, tenor saxophonist Chet Doxas makes the most of the soloing opportunity provided. It would be hard for the ensemble to go wrong here, given the melodic material and emotional shadings the original material provides. Fahie's group never sounds better than on “La fille aux cheveux de lin” (The Girl with the Flaxen Hair) from Debussy's Préludes, Book 1, with the solo piano piece lending itself especially well to a ravishingly textured full-orchestra treatment and the leader elevating it with a muscular solo.

In fitting so many compositional ideas into a smaller package, it doesn't surprise that the Stravinsky treatment would lose some of the clarity of focus that distinguishes the shorter tracks. That said, there's much satisfaction to be derived from the performance, starting with Ingram's alternately elegant and mystery-laden phrasings and the shimmering textures produced by the ensemble. As before, the integration of soloists is handled effectively, with Nachoff delivering a memorable tenor turn and tubaist Wharton and Fahie on euphonium partnering, the group briefly dropping out behind them.

As strong as the album is, it's not without a misstep, in this case the ‘rock' treatment given Bartók. While not quite dismaying, the heavy, even at times raunchy guitar playing and straight-up drum groove sound crude next to the other interpretations. If there's a silver lining, it arises in the sequences where the character of the material aligns to the form otherwise heard on the album. Considerably more appealing is the rendering of the second movement from Tchaikovsky's sixth symphony, the performance's bright, almost rapturous quality and Irwin's lovely alto spotlight doing much to erase the memory of its predecessor. The misstep aside, Urban(e) has much to recommend it, from the care with which Fahie fashions interpretations that retain the integrity of the original compositions without being overly constrained by them; the performances, too, by both individual players and the orchestra are also powerful. A project of such ambitious scope isn't easy to pull off, but for the most part Fahie does so successfully.

August 2020