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Matt Ulery: Pollinator When a jazz artist honours an earlier era, the focus often shifts to movements of the 50s, 60s, and 70s and associated figures such as Monk, Parker, Mingus, Davis, and Coltrane. The ever-eclectic Chicago bassist Matt Ulery does that one better by celebrating the swing music of the 20s, the results so fresh and invigorating it's hard to believe a century has passed since King Oliver, Jelly Roll Morton, and Lil Hardin ruled the roost. Pollinator is, of course, an apt title in its referencing of plant regeneration, a process symbolic of the replenishment jazz regularly undergoes when artists drink from the creative well of their predecessors. Adding to its appeal, the album's a sincere homage, not some tongue-in-cheek exercise in irony—which is not to imply it's lacking in humour or joy. Smartly, Ulery and company—trumpeter James Davis, tenor saxophonist Dustin Laurenzi, trombonist Steve Duncan, pianist Paul Bedal, and drummer Quin Kirchner—treat the music with respect but aren't overly reverential. Pollinator could have presented the group interpreting their elders' compositions; instead, Ulery filters the era through his own distinctive writing voice with performances of eight originals in a flab-free thirty-six minutes. Adding to the authentic feel of the playing, he also exchanged his customary bass for his first instrument, the sousaphone, on the date, recorded on June 20th, 2019. Jumpstarted by a martial drum pattern, “Clown Drum” serves up four-and-a-half minutes of whimsy, with the horns pumping furiously and the rhythm section swinging intently. Davis steps up with a dynamic solo well-suited to the rambunction in play, after which Laurenzi delivers a smooth turn. Action-packed, the tune flows seamlessly between written material and solo passages with not a second wasted. A wailing blues figure animates “So Long, Toots,” which thereafter alternates between infectious swing and a memorable stutter-staccato theme. After a blustery Duncan takes the first solo, sax and trumpet move to the front line for concise, pungent statements before the rollicking groove reinstates itself with crisp ensemble playing. The album's first half is rounded out by two similarly exuberant numbers, “Dropping' In” and “Jelly,” both oozing joy and a good-time feel. After Bedal elevates side two's opener “Cakes” with an inspired turn, the remaining tracks evidence Ulery's compositional signature a tad more conspicuously than the opening five. Whereas a lyrical, dream-like quality infuses the bluesy languor of “Soup Talk,” a mournful quality shadows “Feed,” its hushed horns evoking the image of musicians playing a dirge as a funeral procession makes its way through the streets. Spirits lift markedly for the triple-metre outro “Clover,” even if the tempo is closer to “Feed” than the earlier pieces. Don't be surprised if at disc's end you find yourself dusting off decades-old albums by Morton, Ellington, and King Oliver to bask in their sweet sounds all over again. How wonderful that Pollinator is available in vinyl, too, in that it allows the discerning audiophile to closely replicate the experience of how those earlier albums were absorbed.October 2020 |