Dustin Laurenzi's Natural Language: A Time and a Place
Woolgathering Records

Recorded in Chicago on a late June day in 2019, Dustin Laurenzi's latest quartet album truly does capture a particular time and place. The situation then, after all, was considerably unlike the one we're in now, and consequently the four musicians in those circumstances could focus on the tenor saxophonist's new tunes without pandemic-related concerns complicating matters. Laurenzi, by the way, has solidly established himself on his home turf as the leader of his own bands and as a member of others' outfits, Matt Ulery's Pollinator and Katie Ernst's Little Words two of note; he's also toured with Bon Iver and recently released Snaketime: The Music of Moondog, such projects indicative of Laurenzi's eclectic range.

A Time and a Place is distinguished by its players, performances, and compositions. Laurenzi's ably complemented by guitarist Jeff Swanson, bassist Mike Harmon, and drummer Charles Rumback, the four demonstrating palpable chemistry in their execution of the leader's material; theirs does seem to be a natural language that's developed through heightened sensitivity to group expression. One of the more appealing things about the album is its uncomplicated approach: nothing more is involved than four gifted musicians wholly engaged with the task at hand, and that's more than enough.

Another strength has to do with the way melodic material is distributed. “Mantra,” for example, eases in with a relaxed ostinato guitar-and-bass pattern that nicely lays a ground for the saxophone's sultry purr and for Rumback's tom-tom and cymbal accents. Two minutes in, however, the pace, jumpstarted by Swanson, accelerates and, with the drummer playing more aggressively, flirts with tumult. With space opening up, Laurenzi exploits harmonic possibilities with a series of rapidly shifting explorations.

As one might guess, he wrote “Albert” with Albert Ayler in mind, and to that end echoes of the late saxophonist's stylistic preferences surface (a nod to Love Cry towards the track's end an overt nod). In contrast to “Mantra,”“Albert” sees a unison statement by saxophone and guitar establishing a ground that enables free playing by Rumback to emerge around it. That gives way almost imperceptibly, however, to interactions of a particularly elastic kind, with all four blowing harmolodically before revisiting the opening material. The relaxed tempo of “Ridgeway,” on the other hand, encourages some of the album's most ruminative playing, with the nostalgic character of the piece's melodies inducing soloing consistent with that reflective tone.

Titled after a Chicago art space, “Slate” is representative of Laurenzi's thoughtful approach to composition and arrangement. Opening with a delicately voiced bass-and-guitar line and with a soft drone murmuring in the background, the piece gradually blossoms with the addition of saxophone and drums. Yet however much the intensity level grows, the essence of the composition remains in place throughout when Swanson and Harmon continue voicing their unison part.

December 2020