Gían Pérez - Bambú

Bambú

Seemingly out of nowhere, over the past year Gían Pérez has become a suddenly ubiquitous presence on the NYC free improv scene. His meteoric rise inspired the title of his debut solo album, as comparable to a fast-growing plant like bamboo. Whatever plant it is, though, is surely not an invasive weed but rather a welcome rarity. Pérez’ unique voice on the guitar is a fresh new vision for an instrument we thought we knew.

Some of the allure of Bambú comes from its mystery. Pérez uses prepared-guitar extended techniques to conjure otherworldly soundscapes; without a visual element it’s rarely obvious how he produces these textures. His playing can be abrasive, as may perhaps be expected from a solo electric guitar improv album; just as often, however, he keeps up a concentrated stillness with moments of unexpected tranquility. Loud or soft, in this solo setting his improvising is right there, and he holds the listener’s focus with a heartfelt playfulness through all his arcane limitations. Like so much of my favorite new work, this is island music: not only from Pérez’ upbringing in Puerto Rico (referenced in a few of the track titles) but also in the sense that each of the eight tracks is somehow an island. They are well-defined vignettes rather than stories, each one cataloguing a specific technique - sort of a surreal set of field recordings.

“There, A Gun!” proclaims the opening track, but the weapon slung here is more massage than machine. An expanding and contracting sheet of noise becomes the melody, while funky lumps of thumpy accompaniment bubble under the surface. “Clave De Fo” (“Key Of Yuck”) is one of the quieter, more linear scenes, though not without a couple of spirals out of control near the end. This one shows Pérez at play, romping through rippling and boinging licks. “El Coqui y El Grillo” is well-named, though not directly imitative: the high-pitched reedy overtones characteristic of tree frogs or crickets are certainly captured in Pérez’ sprongings and scrapings. The one-minute interlude “Tres” is another boinger, this time at a more slapstick pace.

“Perreo Intenso” translates roughly as “Twerking Hard”. On this longest track, Pérez displays an eldritch repertoire of snarls, klaxons, and rapid-fire blasts. Toward the middle he seems to be coaxing crude melodies and grooves out of industrial machinery: a work zone or a twerk zone? “La Mancha” is more recognizably guitar-istic but equally unhinged, picking up where “Tres” left off with plenty of that rubber-bandy shred that can be onomatopoeia’d by rapidly repeating the word “cluster”. The title track which follows is again completely different: acoustic, chordal, even pretty at times - though without a trace of sarcasm. Even here, the raw edge that runs through this album is never dulled; the squall of percussive chords toward the end is just as feral as the other tracks’ shred and noise. Speaking of noise, “Bañar En La Coca” (named for a Puerto Rican waterfall) is a fitting title for a fitting closer: a nonstop noise torrent, just uniform enough to be more relaxing than terrifying, and perhaps the ultimate aural palate cleanser.

This music is complemented well by David Mirarchi’s cover art, a rugged collage of esoteric shapes which are clearly fragments of tangible objects but no longer recognizable. Both the music and the art are the kind of abstraction that really works: a plainly stated and sincere strangeness, never fully explained but open to infinite interpretation. Another listener could come up with a completely different description of this music from mine, positive or negative. Pérez’ commitment to this abstraction is an important part of the originality of his music. Whether you “woo” Bambú or boo Bambú, Bambú stays true to something new and will never be anything other than Bambú. 

Main Drag Improvisers Series: February 28, 2024

 Though the music was very different, the February 28th, 2024 Main Drag show (the last Wednesday of the series before it switched to Mondays) had several elements in common with the January 10th installment that I had last reviewed. Three trios followed by two quartets again created five unique sonic spaces despite having a few players in common. This time around, however, there was more of an overarching form with the first and last sets standing out from the others.

Visiting bassist Seajun Kwon dazzled, as he always does, in the opening set alongside Jonathan Paik on keyboard and Alex Woo on drums. Familiar as I am with the microscopic detail of Kwon’s compositions, it was refreshing to hear him cut loose in this free-improv setting and explore the pure possibilities of sound. In this trio, the focus was firmly on texture. The beginning grew out of massive waves of bass drones, and Paik got right into action with flying fingers. Throughout the set, Paik’s playing made me imagine a wind-up toy, winding ever faster and slower but never coming to an abrupt stop (except at the quite sudden end). His addition of a tremolo effect led to a deeper episode where he and Kwon were matched slip for slide with twiddling knobs and grinding bow. Woo was along for the ride in all the dynamic shifts, contributing to a tight ensemble sound. The real magic of this set was the constant textural strangeness - something fascinating was always going on in the keys and/or bass. Especially with Kwon playing as powerfully as he did, this group never sounded like a “piano trio”.

The second set, by guitarist Chris Cochrane, keyboardist Anthony Coleman, and drummer James Paul Nadien, brought us straight to the volume zone. The loudness, largely coming from the guitar, was really striking after the previous set whose dynamic range had been on the softer side. Cochrane kept things very noisy, but not relentlessly so. His noise was really a patterned layer, like weather; he would storm in, and then let up to reveal what Coleman and Nadien had been doing underneath with their bubbling-over energy. For such a tempestuous set there were a few surprisingly quiet moments. Short and sweet, it ended just as abruptly as it began. Unfortunately, this set was not recorded.

As with January 10th, Stephen Gauci’s weekly trio had Adam Lane on bass and Kevin Shea on drums. This time they really got down to business from the start, with one of the wildest opening statements I’ve heard from this trio in a while. Shea really led this first section with his usual high density, nearly matched by Gauci - everyone’s ideas came closely clumped together. Gauci was in particularly bombastic form, booming in the low register - including at the very end - and filling the room with raw wind power. All three duo combinations were utilized: immersive Lane/Shea with lots of wah-pedal bass (and hammering like a punk guitar), suitably uproarious Gauci/Shea, and classic Gauci/Lane with those unmistakable, seismic harmonics. For all their histrionics, Gauci, Lane, and Shea are extremely genuine improvisers. They all feel everything they play, and they listen with their entire bodies.

Kevin Shea stayed on for the fourth set, the first of two very different quartets both including guitarist Eyal Maoz. Rounding out this all-star lineup were Yoni Kretzmer on tenor sax and Shogo Yamagishi on bass. Like Gauci’s set, this one seemed very genuine - free improv at its most satisfying. Maoz’ quirky style, full of bouncy rhythms and unpredictable effects, was a worthy match for Shea’s wildness. The tightest interplay, however, was between Maoz and Kretzmer as their lines intertwined in full-throated concord. Kretzmer’s muscular sound really packs a wallop in this reverberant space, making his melodies that much more meaningful. This was a really well-balanced quartet; no one ever got in each other’s way, and every single idea was as clear as possible. The end of the set was riveting: a huge buildup from lyrical near-ballad through a shred-blues guitar solo, with Kretzmer coming in at the last minute to cap off a crashing conclusion.

After the previous group featuring Eyal Maoz as an improviser, it was fascinating to follow this up with Maoz the composer. In this final set, he joined tenor saxophonist Igor Lumpert, electric bassist Fima Ephron, and drummer Chris Stromquist for five of his original songs. The group sound here was completely different from the first quartet, defined by Stromquist’s squeaky-clean grooves and Lumpert’s dark, rounded timbre, nearly the opposite of Kretzmer’s or Gauci’s (and of course the only electric bass of the night). Maoz’ compositions were fun and funky, full of the same sort of slippery lines that he uses in his soloing. A lot of the funk came from Ephron and Stromquist, as they laid down tight beats that really made this a “dance party” set throughout, starting with a little New Orleans flavor on the first song. The last one, with its elegant lyricism at a fast swing tempo, was a strong finish to the entire show.

Watch most of the show (sets 1, 3, 4, and 5) on Youtube!

Main Drag Improvisers Series: January 10, 2024

 January 10th kicked off the second year of the Wednesday series at Main Drag with three trios and two quartets. Despite some common threads of personnel, instrumentation, and even form between the sets, this was another night of five different worlds built by unique combinations of equally unique improvisers.

I had been particularly looking forward to the first set, featuring guitarist Gian Perez, electric bassist Tete Leguia, and drummer Nick Neuburg, all players with highly personal styles of extended techniques. Their combination of prepared guitar, prepared bass, and prepared drums produced many soundscapes of satisfying bizarreness. However, they began linearly without any “preparations”, though all had switched to the noisy side just a few minutes in. The whole set was full of these rapid shifts, but few felt abrupt; often one player focused more on lines while the other two were noise-ing, and vice versa. The bowings, scratchings, sticks between the strings, foam blocks rubbed on the drums, and all the other instrumental modifications were like a filter of absurdity rather than a visit to a separate dimension. These players always stood out from each other texturally, but this was ultimately a tight trio with well-timed dynamic ups and downs.

Though Nick Neuburg stayed on stage for the next group - another guitar-bass-drums trio - this one had a completely different vibe. Luke Rovinsky on guitar and Caleb Duval on acoustic bass kept up a sparking, crackling edge with plenty of effects pedals. This was a very loud set; in sustained peaks of volume the drums were lost in all the voltage. I appreciate the catharsis in this kind of playing, but hearing it live was definitely a bit overwhelming. Relief came when Rovinsky and Duval took a more percussive approach, resulting in fractured interplay with nothing too loud to hear. One of these percussive moments happened right at the beginning of the set. Like the previous trio - and another featuring Duval that I’ve reviewed earlier - this group held back a little for the first few minutes and then dug in. I wonder if this is a new form pattern that free improvisers are starting to fall into, like the “one more short one” at the end that everyone was doing back around 2016-18.

For his first trio of 2024, Stephen Gauci was joined by regular bassist Adam Lane and drummer Kevin Shea. One of today’s most unmistakable voices on the drums, Shea brings a steady stream of high intensity to this lineup. He certainly reacts to what Gauci and Lane are doing, but instead of punctuating their lines the way Colin Hinton does, he often lays down a roiling surface for them to clash and wrassle over. Shea makes his fair share of unexpected choices too; at one point this time he dropped out right as Gauci and Lane reached their climactic screech and skronk zone, leaving them to duke it out as a duo. Gauci switched to clarinet for this trio’s second episode; he blows just as wildly and brightly on this instrument as on tenor sax. What began as a would-be woody interlude soon escalated to the high harmonics, with the clarinet’s higher fundamental kicking things up yet another notch. Then Gauci was back to tenor for some extra fury before a clangorous Shea solo.

Both the fourth and fifth lineups were quartets: sax, guitar, electric bass, and drums. Tenor saxophonist Michael Eaton, guitarist Max Kutner, bassist Adam Minkoff, and drummer Nick Anderson got right into it from the start, no holds barred. This group’s sound was always more texture than line, in both loud sections and soft. Kutner was at his noisiest, constantly getting into goofy timbral shenanigans. Eaton, with his multiphonics and shredding, managed to sound just as distorted as the guitar and bass. Though this quartet unleashed a lot of chaos, there was plenty of clarity here as well. The first half had a well-defined form, from blasting to ballad and back to blasting; in the more fragmented second half, everyone’s gestures were clear despite the densely overlapping ideas.

Any time Kevin Shea and guitarist Sandy Ewen are playing, things are guaranteed to get unhinged. In the last set, things certainly did so - in a particularly alien way with the presence of Welf Dorr on alto sax and Jeong Lim Yang on bass. In this quartet, melodic and non-melodic approaches combined in the kind of way that always fascinates me. Dorr and Yang largely stuck to pure melody, while Ewen, always the prepared guitar specialist, stayed resolutely noisy. With so much linear vocabulary around her, it seemed that at any point Ewen could suddenly break into lines or chords even though she never did. On the other hand, any time she started playing after dropping out for a while, the sax and bass became that much more textural by association. At first Shea joined the fray with his signature river of rolls and rattles, but halfway through the set he hit a funky groove that turned the proceedings into straight-up No Wave. From then on it was one party beat after another, with varying degrees of sax and bass engagement while Ewen chirped and croaked away with her springs and scrapers. The last seven minutes were filled with a fun blend of No Wave, bossa, and pop punk that could only have been fueled by Shea. The very end spiraled out of control when Yang joined Ewen’s droning with her bow (in fact all three electric bassists tonight used a bow at some point!), but ultimately Shea got the last word, winding the tempo down by himself.

Watch the whole show on Youtube!

Dogs Of Pleasure - Embrace

 

Embrace

As I’ve mentioned in other reviews, I am fascinated by islands of all kinds. I would say that just as their isolation leads to unique ecosystems, there is something about islands that affects their music as well. Embrace by the free-improv duo Dogs Of Pleasure (Julius Schwing on guitar and Alfred Jackson on drums) is a great example of an album informed by a different sort of mindset than one raised on the mainland. This is music of triply insular origin: Schwing and Jackson are based on Bruny Island, a relatively tiny sliver of land off the southeast coast of Tasmania, Australia. I’ve heard Tasmania described as feeling like “the edge of the universe”. The sounds of Embrace are certainly sounds of the edge - raw, rugged, unforgiving, combining scavenged bits of influences washed up by the tides to create something not quite like anything I’ve heard before. 
This is a heavy album, with a wild energy from start to finish. If the dogs referenced in the band name are pleasant, they are certainly not docile. Schwing’s distorted guitar howls and snarls, and Jackson’s drums charge and lash out all over the place. For all their noisiness, these improvisations are far from pure abstraction. Schwing’s shredding is often exaggerated out of melodic vocabulary with a deep blues or folk foundation. Schwing and Jackson form a tight duo to boot; they always seem to be listening closely though rarely mirroring each other. There are not a lot of different sounds on Embrace; Schwing and Jackson doggedly focus on a specific sonic palette throughout the six tracks. This focus is part of what makes the album particularly insular for me, like the limited-but-strange biodiversity of small or remote islands.
The first three tracks “Release The Hounds”, “Quarry”, and “Stretchmarks, Pigtails, And Bloodlines” stay in a concentrated earspace of aggravated guitar and flying drums. Schwing steps things up yet another notch speed-wise on the shortest track, “Buzzcut”, with playful up-and-down shredding. “The Bagman” is the only track with a groove throughout; it’s a feral, overdriven free-rock jam with a folk-singer lyricism shining through in Schwing’s lines. Despite its volume this one is really the album’s “ballad”. Then it’s back to the brutal zone for the final “Embrace”, this time with Schwing droning apocalyptically over almost-blast-beats from Jackson. Like the previous track this one stays in a single key throughout. The metal qualities in “Embrace”, as well as the rock/folk sound of “The Bagman”, show that this music is not easily classifiable “free jazz” but rather a monumental adventure through and beyond its component genres.
Immersive and visceral, Embrace is full-body music. Far from being alien in its remoteness, it sounds like right now in all its complexity. Schwing and Jackson are feeling what they are playing with the same intense connection that I’m sure they have to the wild landscape of their island. When I finally make that trip to Australia I hypothesized about in an earlier review, I’ll be sure to visit Bruny Island and compare my own impression with what I hear on Embrace.

Main Drag Improvisers Series: December 6, 2023

December 6th’s Main Drag show was a night of five trios. Having a consistent ensemble size really accentuated the many approaches free-improv groups can take, with not much in common in terms of overall sound between the sets besides their trio-ness.

First up was a grand electronic adventure. Tenor saxophonist Ayumi Ishito, guitarist Trevor Deke Bajus (Main Drag’s resident handyman), and drummer Yuko Togami all augmented their instruments with synths and effects setups, and the result was a suitably alien collection of fascinating future-scapes. Though all players used their electronics to their full potential, the vibe of this set was largely subdued and serene - no noise for noise’s sake. These were detailed explorations of distant space scenes, evolving continuously through the unbroken set without any abrupt shifts in texture. The first entrances of the sax and the drums rose inexorably out of drones; even the linear interplay between Bajus and Ishito near the middle, full of funky flangered blues vocabulary, began and ended quite gradually. This and the final episode, a pretty, balladic section with minimal effects, were reminders that free improv doesn’t have to be tonally abstract, even with such a futuristic sonic arsenal.

Having heard (and reviewed) drummer Ken Kobayashi in a guitar/bass/drums trio before, I’d say his set tonight was particularly effective. Adam Caine on guitar and Adam Lane on bass matched Kobayashi’s high energy level in ways that sustained interest throughout. Everything Caine plays has meaning, and Lane always digs in hard; put it all together and we get a strongly concentrated intensity in the ensemble sound. Much of this was driven by Lane, who got a couple of featured moments but also supplied a lead voice at some climactic trio points. But Caine also had plenty of chances to steer the others to some riveting places, using relatively few effects and focusing on his trademark subtly romantic lyricism. The second half of the set, with its extended sections of groove, felt like rock engineered out of jazz. It ended in a way that seemed a surprise to the players as much as the audience: a noisy collective explosion shifted into some atmospheric drones, followed by a solo drum conclusion.

Adam Lane stayed on for the next group, Stephen Gauci’s weekly trio this time with Colin Hinton on drums. As usual, this venerable lineup created something truly spectacular. Hinton brings a vast dynamic range to this trio, spurring even noisier peaks of activity from Gauci and Lane than I hear with other drummers. For such an intense ensemble, there was a a lot of listening here, with Gauci and Hinton in particular tightly punctuating each other’s phrases. All three players had solo moments; Gauci’s stood out as his often do, toggling uncannily between the romantic and the apoplectic. There were plenty of opportunities for him to feature one of my favorite techniques of his that I haven’t heard other saxophonists explore like he does: the alternation between already high overtones and an even higher squeal register. Though often aggressive when the trio is going hard together, this can also be cute - like a bird’s voice break. At one point near the end Gauci’s squeal-licks transitioned seamlessly into Lane’s trademark wah-pedal bowing.

Fourth was a requisitely bizarre set by three of the most recognizable improvisers of the entire scene: soprano saxophonist Sam Newsome, bassist Caleb Duval, and drummer Kevin Murray. Newsome and Duval began without effects, joined by Murray’s exuberant clattering in a hyperactive, linear opening episode. Shortly after Duval first hit the pedals, Newsome busted out his own effects: a set of tubes, bells, and other acoustic objects with which he modifies his instrument. From that point on, except for a few later linear sections, this was less an interconnected improv trio than a noise set by three soloists on acoustic instruments. It certainly worked, though, in an alien way - not quite performance art and not quite outsider music. Between Duval’s unhinged bowing, Murray’s arsenal of esoteric stickings, and Newsome’s literal bag of tricks, this was as entertaining to watch as to listen to.

In some ways, the last group was even weirder. Andre Matos on guitar, Leo Genovese on synth and soprano sax, and Billy Mintz on drums brought us something truly from another dimension. Like the first set this one grew out of drones at the beginning, but instead of epic, serene space scenes, here was a chaotic, fractured vision of the multiverse. Mintz kept up a fun shuffling groove through the first 13 minutes for Matos and Genovese to slide around and shred over, improvising against both each other and the drums; but again, this was a group sound just absurd enough to work. There was a satisfying collective control of dynamics, with well-defined ups and downs throughout. Hearing Genovese on soprano right after Sam Newsome was quite an ear-opener; it was obvious that the energy of his lines and multiphonics was not coming from a place of chops like Newsome’s, though no less valid in their wildness and often matched in that regard by Matos with his fidgety two-handed tapping. 

Watch the whole show on Youtube!

Jon Crompton: Cantata No. 1: An Island Seen And Felt, The DiMenna Center, September 9, 2023

Cantata No. 1 on Vimeo

Music inspired by a specific place, music that brings together unlikely stylistic influences, contemporary music that incorporates the meticulous detail of Renaissance and Baroque counterpoint - these are things that speak to me. Saxophonist and composer Jon Crompton’s Cantata No. 1: An Island Seen And Felt ticks all these boxes. Hearing this piece in its premiere performace was a satisfyingly exquisite experience that twiddled all the right knobs in my brain. 

In An Island Seen And Felt, Crompton paid homage to where he grew up: the Surf Coast Shire of southeast Australia. In three movements, he created immersive soundscapes with an instrumentation full of melody: two soprano voices, string quartet, alto sax, and electric guitar. As perhaps suggested by this lineup, the piece combined elements of jazz, modern and contemporary classical, Baroque and Renaissance music; however, the representation of scenes took priority over any specifics of style. I was impressed by how focused Crompton’s work was; though suitably varied enough to sustain interest, it really was a depiction of a location rather than a linear narrative. There was no major story line here other than the arc of day, or at least of a trip to a beach. I could easily picture the Surf Coast from this music, with its wide-open, maritime modality; it bumped a visit to Australia higher up my bucket list. Calm and meditative throughout even at its most active, the piece had little of the turbulence I associate with what I’ve read about the Southern Ocean - further piquing my curiosity.

This was a piece infused with a strong sense of wonder, a reverence for the beauty of both music and nature. The subtle wildness of Crompton’s and guitarist James Wengrow’s improvising toward the beginning and end, the Latin psalm text of the vocal episodes, and the eclectic diversity of approaches to counterpoint were all evocative of detailed sea and shore ecosystems in all their complexity. The second movement was more stylized than the others, concentrated on exploring string counterpoint in a Baroque-to-Neoclassical vein, but the voice and sax lines, swirling in waves and eddies, indicated that the beach was never far away.

Besides the composition itself, I really enjoyed the quality of this performance. This was an extremely tight ensemble, with nothing rough anywhere around the edges. Wengrow in particular stood out in the way he provided the atmospheric, textural aspect of the first and third movements: a solid background layer with a highly personal touch. But all members of this group were committed to making An Island Seen And Felt truly come to life. This was a performance that brought me toward an island, and allowed me to come very close to seeing and feeling it.

Main Drag Improvisers Series: October 11, 2023

 Though at times similar in its free-improv language, the Main Drag show of October 11, 2023 had quite a different overall vibe from the one I previously reviewed two weeks earlier. Both were eclectic collections of disparate soundscapes, but while the sets on September 27th coalesced into a larger-scale form, this latter installment had fewer unifying threads. This was a night of the immediate, with many outstanding moments brought about by a cast of instantly recognizable improvisers.

A rising-star trio, featuring TJ Milan-Bombara on tenor sax, Gian Perez on guitar, and Asher Herzog on drums, began the night with a relatively short, unbroken set of concentrated intensity. This ensemble was not always the most balanced in terms of volume, with Perez sometimes dominating the aural space; however, the collective high energy somehow managed to make this work. All three players were really going for it, even in the occasional quieter sections. Both Perez and Milan-Bombara were constantly turning the dial between tonality and noise, showing a passionate vigor at both ends of the spectrum propelled by Herzog’s often restless drumming. Milan-Bombara displayed an impressive, well-timed “bag of tricks” - from tongue-slaps and key-clicks through circular breathing to literally screaming into his bell, and even shaking his salakot hat as a percussion instrument. I’m sure we’ll hear more from him in this series soon.

The second group illustrated just how different two improvising ensembles with a similar instrumentation can be. This set by alto saxophonist Travis Sullivan, keyboardist Eishin Nose, and drummer Bob Meyer was in several ways the opposite of the first set. This was a seasoned trio with an emphasis on listening, creating an interconnected group sound often made introspective and subdued through Meyer’s use of brushes. There were some tight grooves, but more interesting to me were sections in which the players occupied a single rhythmic space together without playing in time, such as over a slow rubato vamp Nose hit near the beginning. Though Sullivan and Nose entered the shred zone at powerful climactic points, both were always focused on lines or harmonies; there were almost no extended techniques. This was truly “free jazz” rather than “free improv”. One important distinction from the previous set was how this trio handled shifts of dynamic and density: everything here was gradual, with no one bumrushing the others in abrupt entrances.

Like September 27, this date happened to be another on which both Kevin Shea and Colin Hinton were busy, so Stephen Gauci’s weekly trio appeared again with a guest drummer. Patrick Golden joined Gauci and the trio’s regular bassist Adam Lane for a set with again a different collective sound from either usual lineup. Golden provided a busy stream of energy, keeping more of a consistent rhythm section role than Hinton or Shea often do. This support in the drums allowed Lane to take a more dominant role, really digging in with his bow and wah pedal. Gauci began with relatively subdued, linear vocabulary but didn’t take long to reach his characteristic high-overtoned register. The real magic here was in solo and duo moments. There were two sections of solo Gauci improv, both with a ritualistic edge that punched right in the gut. Lane was at his most uninhibited in duo settings, both with Gauci and Golden.

Until this show I was unfamiliar with vocalist Hanna Schörken, but seeing the rest of the lineup on the fourth set - Sandy Ewen on prepared guitar, Eric Plaks on keyboard, and James Paul Nadien on drums - I knew we were in for something spectacular. This was by far the most genuinely Dada set I’ve heard yet in this series. Free-improvised vocals can be hard to get to, but Schörken’s style was utterly mesmerizing, full of consonants, breathy syllables, and extreme high and low registers. Her versatile playfulness fit right in with Ewen and Nadien at their noisiest. Nadien was inspired to a performance-art level of absurdity with literal bells and whistles, humming into his snare drum, and hamboning his face and chest. As the one instrumentalist using linear and chordal material, Plaks could have seemed out of place, but his melodies and harmonies really formed one more layer for Schörken to react to. He blended a bit more with the others around the middle of the set through the use of distortion as well as his trademark flying-fingered shredding. The dialogue between Schörken and Plaks toward the end was particularly fascinating, like a Dadaist art song until Ewen and Nadien entered to spur them on to some exuberant closing pyrotechnics.

The show finished with the newest of this series’ regular large ensembles, Adam Caine's Main Drag Guitar Orchestra, in its second of hopefully many performances. This and the preceding quartet were the dual high points of the night for me. The music of the guitar orchestra was nothing like I had expected, especially given the personnel: a redoubtable slice of New York’s avant-jazz guitar scene comprising Gian Perez, Sam Day Harmet, Keenan Ruffin, Nick Saia, Matt Hollenberg, Max Kutner, Harvey Valdes, and Aaron Quinn with Colson Jimenez on electric bass and Vijay Anderson on drums. Caine trained this beast of an ensemble through six elegant original compositions. Most were impossible to assign to genre but several had a pretty, almost classical sound. Though there were plenty of opportunities for things to get quirky and angular, the polished sonic environment was a far cry from the resolute abstraction within every constituent player’s capability. One piece was even a straight-ahead jazz blues, on which trading between all eight guitarists led to many goofy moments of skronkularity. The last piece was a satisfyingly strong ending: a riveting chunk of rock minimalism, full of imposing unison loops that steadily built up momentum to a massive final chord.

Watch the whole show on Youtube!