Jan 24, 2013
September 2006
The adjective that comes to mind again and again listening to pianist and composer Kris Davis’ quartet recording The Slightest Shift is “refreshing”. Much of the album sounds close to free improvisation, but there is also a recurring sense that one is listening to a modern chamber music ensemble. And the initial impression of at times decentralized free play belies a group working in close coordination within definite compositional frameworks. Tony Malaby (tenor saxophone), Eivind Opsvik (bass) and the bandleader’s husband Jeff Davis (drums) make up the quartet. The Slightest Shift is also a reminder that improvisation that pushes at the boundaries of form The opening “Bloodwine” is the first of several standout tracks. Its halting beginning gives way to a slow, swaying two-chord progression with a wide-ranging Malaby solo and Davis building increasingly tempestuous and dark chords beneath him. “Morning Stretches” is gentle and spare with, as the title suggests, a preparatory feel to it and segues into the album’s compositional highlight, the gorgeous “Jack’s Song”. Similarly, “Twice Escaped” begins sparely, becomes increasingly layered and arrives at a solo piano coda that segues directly into the rhythmically complex and kinetic title track.
Apr 1, 2008
On Rye Eclipse, pianist Kris Davis’ quartet ventures deeper into the formidable abstractions documented on their previous release, The Slightest Shift (Fresh Sound, 2007). Featuring her husband, drummer Jeff Davis, omnipresent bassist Eivind Opsvik and Downtown saxophone phenomenon Tony Malaby, this is the Brooklyn-based pianist’s second recording with her reliable quartet and the third for the esteemed indie label Fresh Sound New Talent. Conservatory trained in her native Canada, the current New York City resident has quickly established herself as a gifted writer and improviser. Davis demonstrates a flair for composing works that seamlessly integrate the turbulent angularity inherent in free jazz with the formal austerity of chamber music. Davis writes intricate, multi-segmented tunes that weave collective improvisation into knotty unison themes. Her inventive arrangements disregard conventional notions of soloist and accompanist, requiring each member of the quartet to provide melodic, harmonic and rhythmic support. Numerous shifts in tempo, tone and color blur the line between the written and improvised. An equitable fusion of stylistic precedents, Davis’ cerebral aesthetic embraces the neo-classical experimentation of Jimmy Giuffre and Wayne Shorter, the pensive lyricism of Paul Bley and Keith Jarrett and the stark modernism of Gyorgy Ligeti and Alexander Scriabin. The epic title track opens the album; a labyrinthine structure that pitches tempestuous fanfares against ghostly silhouettes and halting, deconstructed swing. Employing multiple strategies throughout its duration, the piece demonstrates the quartet’s studied accord, culminating in a roiling militaristic march that ebbs and flows with collective fervor. Davis introduces the Monkish “Wayne Oscar” alone, unfurling rivulets of contrapuntal ingenuity with spry euphony. Gradually joined by her rhythm section, she gracefully navigates a loping, abstruse pulse before Malaby enters, amplifying the mood with his brawny tenor. “Prairie Eyes” features Davis’ penchant for brooding lyricism, her brisk minimalist patterns providing a tense undercurrent for the rhythm section’s carefree rubato swing and Malaby’s plangent commentary. Exploring extreme dynamics, “Empty Beehive” revels in textural abstraction, unveiling spectral harmonics, whispery refrains and unsettling atmospherics. In contrast, “Black Tunnel” features the quartet at their most vivacious. Careening through a propulsive staccato theme, they sporadically interrupt their anthemic onslaught with brief passages of spare reflection. Elegantly balancing magnanimous collective expression with challenging pre-written forms, Rye Eclipse is a stellar example of creative improvised music.
Troy Collins
May 1, 2007
More than just sonic shards exploding in your face, free jazz can be intricate yet mellow, graced with not just ferocity but also shifting, nuanced light and shadow. Even its hallmark jagged lines, angular rhythms and dissonant harmonies can be balanced with delicate phrasing and, yes, lovely passages drenched in kaleidoscopic colors, patterns and textures. At least it can be all these things and more in the challenging, abstract sonic world created by Kris Davis, a 27-year-old, New York-based pianist/composer and her tightly interactive quartet, which plays Friday at 8:30 and 10 p.m. at Firehouse 12, New Haven’s haven for progressive music. Backed by her working band of five years, Davis will be accompanied by tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby, bassist Eivind Opsvik and drummer Jeff Davis, her husband. A native of Vancouver, Canada, Davis studied classical piano through the Royal Conservatory of Music and received her bachelor’s degree from the University of Toronto before relocating to New York City and studying composition with the prominent pianist/composer Jim McNeely. As an indication of her open-ended approach to composition and improvisation, Davis cites multiple influences from both jazz and classical music. These range from Thelonious Monk and Paul Bley (a fellow experimental, Canadian-born pianist/composer) to the Hungarian composer Gyorgy Ligeti (including his innovative use of shifting blocks of sound and tone color) to the exquisite, enigmatic piano music of the Russian composer, pianist and mystic, Aleksandr Scriabin. On her most recent and second CD, “The Slightest Shift” (Fresh Sound New Talent), she and her three regular collaborators (the same contingent as the Firehouse 12 date) engage in tightly interactive musical conversation. Her debut album, “Life Span,” was released in 2004, also on Fresh Sound. Abstract but spirited, the quartet’s running conversation-sometimes rooted in two, three or four overlapping voices-explores a wide range of colors, textures and emotional moods from turbulence to serenity. Critic Ben Waltzer best sums up Davis’s fundamental aesthetic as being “jargon free improvising, and a harmonic approach that reached beyond boundaries without sacrificing coherence.” More than merely just loathing jargon, Davis strives for creating bold new directions that have an inherent logic all their own. Or as she explains while speaking of what she learned from studying with a great mentor like McNeely: “We worked a lot on exercises in which voice-leading determined the chord qualities in a given progression, rather than say, using stock chord progressions as a basis for improvisation. Basically, he helped me think in less predictable ways,” she says. Among her new album’s eight original pieces, “35 Cents” is, quite typically, rooted in conversation that builds momentum like a locomotive, even sometimes reeling on its tracks with tricky Ornette Coleman-like twists and turns. Saxophone and piano continuously complement each other by commenting on and expanding on what the other says. Davis’s “Morning Stretches” is mournful and mysterious, its brooding, almost requiem-like mood underscored by the bowed bass parts. “Jack’s Song” sounds soft and refined, almost as if you’re overhearing other voices from other rooms, a nice contrasting element of delicacy among the current of edgy, free-flowing lines. Throughout, there’s a continuous stream of statement and counterstatement, a synthesis of thesis and antithesis yielding an extemporaneous meeting of the minds generating surprising results. And the four-way conversations are expressed in a language rooted in a different sort of syntax in which even punctuation marks don’t fall where you might think they would. Obviously, Davis more than achieves her stated goal of unpredictability. At the same time, however, she quite mercifully avoids the elitist pitfalls and pratfalls of making music so archly arcane that only other like-minded musicians could bear listening to it.
Owen McNally
Jan 24, 2007
KRIS DAVIS – The Slightest Shift (Fresh Sound New Talent)
Kris Davis’ quartet wastes no time on her second CD. Digging through eight of the pianist’s turbulent, open-structured pieces in a crisp 40 minutes, they slide readily into collective groans, finger-snapping Monk-ish walks and tumbled heaps of crossed melodic lines. Davis’ compositions are carefully drawn but explosive. As she slices through expressive tangles of notes, tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby spars with Eivind Opsvik’s bass and Jeff Davis’ colorful drumming, making for a spirited four-way conversation.
