Daniel Rotem: Solo II – Under Construction at bluewhale
Daniel Rotem

Los Angeles-based saxophonist Daniel Rotem has an enigmatic way of seeing himself, specifically as “a listener that plays” rather than “a player that listens.” That's merely one thing that separates Rotem from his contemporaries, even if he drinks from the same well as others in the jazz saxophone community. Indicative of the individual stance he takes, his seventh album presents him playing sans accompaniment a half-hour set comprising three standards, one original, and two improvised pieces. The release title of course clarifies that this is the second time he's tackled a solo project of this type, the first issued in 2021 and inspired in part by the isolating lockdown incurred by the pandemic.

To be clear, Rotem's no iconoclast, but he is intrepid, a confident player unafraid of wading into waters others might steer clear of. It takes a special kind of daring to take on the high-wire challenge of a solo record when no other musician is present to provide relief and when every gesture's amplified; a mistake can be camouflaged within a group performance context, but not here. Some easing of pressure was provided by the circumstances of the set-up, however: Rotem didn't record the material in front of a crowd; instead, he did so live inside the new home of the LA venue bluewhale, with construction still underway. Being in that state, acoustics at the site were still raw when Rotem laid down the tracks, which adds an interesting extra dimension to the performance. His tone nakedly exposed, Rotem's saxophones interact with the space, the result a strikingly intimate communion between performer and place.

The first improvisation, “A Peace That Starts Within,” initiates the release and establishes a template of sorts as Rotem develops ideas and circles around them from different angles. Smooth tenor runs flutter alongside ostinato voicings as he establishes a spine from which bluesy tangents extend. It's an improv, yes, but a coherent sense of structure nevertheless coalesces as it advances. A clearer armature's audible in Billie Holiday's “God Bless the Child” when Rotem imbues it with an even bluesier quality; after a flamboyant intro, he settles into the classic with a reading that hews closely to its melodies and compositional form, personalized embellishments woven in subtly by way of elaboration and phrasing. After concluding it with spiraling patterns, Rotem turns his attention to Monk's “Pannonica,” tenor exchanged for soprano sax and the treatment playful and exuberant. Naturally, the combination of soprano and Monk calls Steve Lacey to mind, but Rotem carves out his own space with a swinging, acrobatic take. Not unlike his approach to the Holiday tune, he again freely circles around the original during the opening minutes before zeroing in on the melody directly.

The acoustic resonance of the site is most palpably felt during Rotem's ballad-styled original, “Starting From the Smallest Pieces.” Ample pauses separate his tenor phrases, which allow the ghostly reverberations within the setting to emerge conspicuously. That resonant quality carries over into the second improv, “B Team,” this one the considerably more haunting of the two. The third cover, a florid riff on Meredith Willson's “Till There Was You” (from the musical The Music Man) presents his tenor minus that reverberant element and thus enables us to concentrate on the sound of him thinking on his feet and considering different modes of engagement.

May 2026