See Through 4: False Ghosts, Minor Fears
All-Set! Editions

See Through 4, the Toronto-based acoustic jazz outfit led by double bassist Pete Johnston, sounds both like the product of its time and one before: while the sensibility in play is contemporary, the quartet's music often gravitates to bop; further to that, his compositions are marked by an intricacy reminiscent of Lennie Tristano and Charlie Parker. Johnston, a JUNO award winner who holds a doctorate in Ethnomusicology from York University and currently teaches in Humber College's jazz program and at Ryerson University, is ably accompanied by three top-notch partners, saxophonist Karen Ng, pianist Marilyn Lerner, and drummer Nick Fraser. All are comfortable playing in multiple idioms, from traditional to free, and capable of dealing with whatever left-field challenges Johnston's labyrinthine pieces throw their way.

Like other projects with which he's associated, his material doesn't slot itself into a single category; there are passages on False Ghosts, Minor Fears that verge on formal chamber music, for example, even if the lines between it and other zones blur in execution. Such an approach plays to the musicians' strengths, with Lerner excelling in a context where abstraction and angularity are as much in play as swing. Singling her out is rather misleading, however, as all involved show themselves adept at grappling with Johnston's compositions. Fraser rapidly adapts to the ever-mutating material, and, as her unaccompanied intro to “Uncertain Slant of Light” indicates, Ng is well-equipped to contend with it, too.

Her bright alto leads the locomotive charge at the bop-fueled start of “Another Word for Science” before a breakdown introduces an improv-styled episode, Lerner's chromatic runs adventurously spanning the keyboard and the others responding in kind. The tune's alternating structure comes into sharper focus when the opening part's brief return respectively gives way to solos by Ng and Johnston, the transitions between scripted and improvised material executed fluidly. Delivered at a slow and almost sultry clip, “With Scars to Show” grants space to the musicians to muse more leisurely. As Ng's horn etches a slinky path across Fraser's relaxed pulse, the tune's winding melodic line assumes a somewhat Monk-like quality, the album's bop roots showing once more. Elsewhere, the four dig into the classic bop of “The Sidewalks Are Watching” like they were born to it, while “An Ocean To Forget” advances from a sprawling rubato intro into a muscular, at times tumultuous workout powered by Fraser at his most aggressive.

However meticulously composed Johnston's material is, it never feels as if the musicians are constricted by it; on the contrary, the structures he's put in place act as a creative impetus for their individual expressions. Adding to the musical interest, the performances fluctuate between full ensemble playing and sequences featuring the musicians unaccompanied and in duo and trio configurations. Here's a case where the visual and musical spheres align, the complex geometric tile pattern on the album cover a fitting counterpart to the forty-eight minutes of cubistic bop contained within.

May 2020