Tomoko Omura: Branches Vol. 2
Outside in Music

From her 2015 release Roots to the two instalments in her Branches project, Tomoko Omura's Japanese heritage continues to be a remarkably fertile source of inspiration, ideas, and source material for the New York-based jazz violinist. The second chapter makes for a wonderful companion to last year's inaugural Branches volume and suggests she would be wise to consider extending the project. With such a vast repository from which to draw, Branches is seemingly capable of accommodating an inexhaustible number of creative possibilities.

The project is as satisfying an endeavour for its creator as listeners, as it enables Omura to couple her love of storytelling with musical writing and performance. That affection is clearly evident in notes on the release package where her synopses of Japanese folk tales clarify their connections to the musical material derived from them. Though only three of the six pieces are directly rooted in traditional folk songs, their tone carries over into Omura's originals, the result a satisfyingly cohesive statement. Her smart melding of historical tradition and contemporary invention once again reaps strong dividends.

Joining her are guitarist Jeff Miles, pianist Glenn Zaleski, bassist Pablo Menares, and drummer Jay Sawyer. The four provide seamless support to the violinist and embrace the spotlight when called upon to do so. While Miles and Omura could conceivably form a front-line similar to John McLaughlin and Jerry Goodman in the original Mahavishnu Orchestra, the similarity ends there: on Branches Vol. 2, Omura's very much the primary soloist, though Miles does makes his presence felt in “To Ryan Se” and “Urashima Suite.” That's no cause for complaint either, as her five-string violin artistry is one of the most appealing things about the recording. Listening pleasure is abundant whenever she plays.

Don't be misled by the rather ominous tone with which “Come Firefly” begins as its dirge-like march quickly gives way to a magical evocation of the nocturnal creatures after which the piece is named. Bolstering the track's appeal is Omura's vocal rendering of the Japanese folksong's lyrics and the violin counterpoint she uses to complement the singing. While that audacious opener delves into surprisingly surrealistic territory, Omura's “Melancholy of a Crane” amplifies her sweeter side with a melancholy reverie inspired by the Japanese folktale “Tsuru no Ongaeshi” (The Crane's Return of Favour). Zaleski complements her solo statement with a sensitive one of his own, after which the leader leaves a strong mark when her violin glides gracefully over the rhythm section's sway. Omura's note that at the song's end “you can imagine the crane flying away far up in the sky” is borne out by the violin's upward rise and the gradual fading away of its sound.

The quintet elevates “To Ryan Se” with a fleet uptempo performance, Sawyer, Menares, and Zaleski impressing for their deft animation of the material and the way they buoy the unison thematic statement by Omura and Miles. After the leader takes joyful flight, the pianist and guitarist take their own soulfully swinging and scalding turns, respectively. Based on a folksong of the Ainu people, who reside in the northern part of Japan and in Russia, the oft-brooding “Bow's Dance” brings the vocal-like character of Omura's violin playing into sharp relief. “Tomie's Blues,” on the other hand, was written with her late grandmother in mind, and the affectionate ballad is elevated by her heartfelt expressions as well as ones by Menares and Zaleski.

June 2021