Petros Klampanis: Irrationalities
EnjaYellowbird

Irrationalities, the splendid fourth album by bassist-composer Petros Klampanis, pairs the polish and sophistication of an ECM set with a rhythmic thrust that makes the release all the more appealing. It is, full stop, a terrific album that impresses on many counts, for the quality of its compositions, the vitality of its performances, and the chemistry demonstrated by the musicians. The instrumentation classifies it as a piano trio release but doing so's misleading: while Estonian pianist Kristjan Randalu is admittedly the main carrier of melody, Klampanis and Polish-German drummer/percussionist Bodek Janke are equally integral to the trio's sound, and the playing of each is engrossing. Irrationalities impresses even more for being the leader's first outing with a trio.

One of the key things distinguishing the set is his compositions, which generally downplay conventional jazz trio tendencies and instead accentuate folk melodies and influences drawn from Greece and the wider Mediterranean and Balkan regions. The leader purportedly wanted to capture on the album the feeling of “living in an imaginary city that combines Greek and European culture and New York culture.” How fitting that Klampanis, once a full-time New Yorker, is now based in his native Athens and also, periodically, in New York (the album was recorded in Athens, by the way, in November 2017). The tracks' arrangements are thoughtfully considered, too, with the bassist giving much consideration to orchestration and texture. Indicative of the balance established is the way a track's melodies are often voiced in unison by Klampanis and Randalu, a move that gives the melody added punch in merging the brightness of the piano with the low-end physicality of the bass.

The bassist benefits greatly from the participation of his partners: Randalu's an unfailingly eloquent player and Janke's an inventive percussionist who brings Indian and Brazilian music influences into his playing; if their connection seems especially strong, it's in part explained by their long history: the two met as ten-year-olds and have played together since, even recording as Grupa Janke Randalu. Klampanis himself is a joy to behold, a magnificent bassist whose playing's marked by authority, precision, and taste. No note is out of place, and there's never too much nor too little in his contributions.

The buoyancy of the opening “Easy Come Easy Go” is enhanced by the percussive colour Janke adds to the pianist and bassist's unison statements. Evidencing a blend of American jazz sprinkled with Eastern flavours, the music swings with a blithe ease, all three expertly coaxing its breeziness into being, and when the trio lunges forth at the two-minute mark the effect is spellbinding. They slow things down for “Seeing You Behind My Eyes,” an intimate, somewhat sentimental ballad that arrests the ear with forlorn melodies and its use of the kalamatiano rhythm (a Greek dance in 7/8) as the tune's foundation. Nominally a ballad, the material gradually grows in energy as the trio moves from a free-floating impressionistic intro to a groove-driven attack. Though Janke's cymbals accents and flourishes invite comparison to Motian and DeJohnette, the artfulness and precision of his playing individuates him.

Adding variety, Klampanis intersperses three versions of “Temporary Secret” (the third appearing as a brief hidden track at album's end), a soundscape-styled vignette that blends trio playing with field recordings of the urban and natural environments (subway, airport, beach). He also introduces the title track with an unaccompanied vocal intro where his overdubbed voice neatly foreshadows the enticing groove the trio executes thereafter. The trio progresses fluidly through multiple sections, each one reflecting deep listening and responsiveness. As he does a number of times on the album, Klampanis elevates the material with an authoritative solo, the leader impressing whether he's grounding a track or stepping into the spotlight.

His originals are complemented by two covers, the first a heartfelt treatment of Manos Hadjidakis's ballad “Thalassa Platia” (“Wide Sea”) executed in 5/4 and the second a stirring rendition of Oscar Levant and Edward Heyman's “Blame It on My Youth,” which is reimagined using the Bulgarian kopanitsa rhythm of 11/8; that change-up doesn't diminish the touching lyricism of the song's melodies, however, which are voiced by Randalu with sensitivity. The discombobulation suggested by the album's cover image and the disorientation that comes with cross-Atlantic travel is in no way reflected in the performances on this disarmingly fine album. They do communicate the excitement that attends a semi-itinerant lifestyle, but Klampanis's material consistently exhibits remarkable control and musicality.

November 2019