Alain Métrailler: Heights Prospection
Unit Records

Having settled into New York City life, many a jazz expatriate can't wait to enter the studio and record material for a soon-to-follow debut. Tenor saxophonist Alain Métrailler is different: after moving from his native Valais, Switzerland to Brooklyn in 2019 to study at The New School for Jazz and Contemporary Music, he immersed himself in the city's jazz scene to make connections, absorb its music, and gain invaluable experience as a bandleader and contributor to others' projects. The refined debut he's now releasing, Heights Prospection, suggests others might be wise to follow his lead, given the poise and maturity on display.

The album's eight pieces—seven originals plus a treatment of Carl Sigman's “Crazy He Calls Me”—show Métrailler melding American and European jazz forms into a seamless, culturally enriched blend and embodying a perspective both steeped in tradition and oriented around today and tomorrow. There are moments where his playing hints at Coltrane, Rollins, and Joe Henderson, and the compositional style in moments exudes a Monkish tinge. But Heights Prospection ultimately registers as a Métrailler statement full-stop, even as it builds on what's come before. Swing, balladry, blues, improv—all the expected ingredients are present but served up in personalized manner.

Supporting him splendidly are pianist Elias Stemeseder, double bassist Chris Tordini, and drummer Eric McPherson, with Grégoire Maret adding harmonica to the quietly majestic “Flight of The Humble Being.” The move isn't unwelcome for adding a radiant new colour to the proceedings (and the five do deliver a beautiful performance), though the quartet playing otherwise is sufficiently rewarding on its own terms. If Métrailler and his partners sound comfortable, it's in part because they workshopped the music extensively before recording, which enabled them to confidently capture the set on a single day in March 2024.

That aforementioned poise and maturity are evidenced in his approach to the tenor. Resisting the inclination to grandstand, he considers each expression thoughtfully, broaching an idea from multiple angles and developing his statements with care. He's no minimalist, but he does exhibit restraint and possesses a tone that's refined and pleasing to the ear. While such qualities are present throughout, one need look no further than the opening piece for an illustration. As a composition, “Obvious Transmission” is as enigmatic as its title. Mystery is present from the outset in Stemeseder's oblique chords and the dark, mantra-like mood the four nurture. Rather than entering in a blaze, Métrailler eases in subtly, teasing at a melody with a repeating phrase and McPherson engaging in the kind of heady polyrhythmic layering at which drummers such as Marvin “Smitty” Smith and Sean Rickman excel (see also McPherson's explorative solo turn on “Unstablemates”). Opting for long notes as opposed to flurries, the leader intensifies the music's bewitching allure as the performance wends its intoxicating way.

In contrast to the darkness of the opener, the bright second cut, “Crispy,” swings breezily, so much so it might have been titled “Joy Spring” had it not already been spoken for. Swinging with authority, the quartet navigates the changes with aplomb, Métrailler riding high and extemporizing confidently. A generous leader, he's also happy to give Stemeseder and Tordini solo space to impose themselves too. Métrailler's deep-throated tenor calls Henderson to mind on the slow'n'bluesy “EWR Hero Saynt,” while “Jump Loud”—the quartet at its most adventurous and cataclysmic—leaps from Monkish bop into an extended episode of untethered free jazz. In the penultimate spot is “I'm in Tears,” which shows the four are as capable of delivering a sensitive ballad as a barnstormer. Ending the set satisfyingly is a duet rendition of “Crazy He Calls Me,” the leader and Stemeseder emoting as memorably on the standard as Tyner and Coltrane do on Ballads and Métrailler impressing one final time with tasteful restraint and circumspection.

March 2026