the clarinets

 

Anthony Burr,Oscar Noriega Chris Speed
This trio creates an acoustic ambient music of unusual grace and beauty, redefining the clarinet in improvised/new music. Improvisation is the basis of their music, which bypasses predetermined strategies to concentrate on the organic, seamless, sound of the trio as a single entity. The players have the experience, poise and selflessness to keep the attention on this group dynamic, and to tease it out into compelling and highly cohesive pieces. The album was recorded in a resonant old church (in upstate NY) surrounded by nature, an environment that inspired the music's subtle shifts in timbre and pitch, enhancing the dreamy yet intense mood throughout the trio’s eight pieces.

 

press -

 

THE WIRE (UK) August
..The first release from this new Brooklyn label
unites Anthony Burr, Oscar Noriega and Chris
Speed – three of New York’s most adventurous
jazz and Improv clarinetists – in a taut 45
minute session where structures reproduce
themselves in the moment.
..The CD’s artwork gives an idea of how the
process works. On the front cover the words
"The Clarinets" are gently abstracted into
graphic patterning, like late Mondrian. Turn the
cover over and the lines become disjointed,
while on the facing panel the design becomes
so complex that the original syntax is lost. The
opening track, “Constellating”, operates
similarly – seemingly random sounds are
funelled into a structure that’s given impetus
and accrues complexity. The sounds have an
aloof quality more reminiscent of Scelsi than
music with its roots in jazz. But Oscar
Noriega’s microtonally inflected clarinet adds
an attractive vulnerability as it massages
against the prevailing temper of the tunings.
..The fifth track, “Scrawl”, breaks the largely
static house style. Folksy lines delight in
rubbing each other up the wrong way, and
contradictory ideas work together to create an
energy that powers the short construct
onwards. The final track, “Lovescar”, returns
to rarefied textures, bringing the project to a
satisfactory conclusion, perhaps too much so
– so many perfect arch-like structures creates
a certain predictability. But with playing as
beautiful as this, that really is splitting hairs.
Philip Clark

Gaz-Eta
Chris Speed's new imprint Skirl Records unfurls with a momentous release from a powerhouse clarinet trio. Collectively known as The Clarinets [which is also the name of the record], the trio features Chris Speed on clarinet, Anthony Burr on bass clarinet, while Oscar Noriega doubles up on both instruments. Their sound is that of a gently moving steam train. It's the hollowed-out sound of an engine that is slowly revving up, building up momentum, which then explodes. I wouldn't call these improvisations pretty, though there is a stark element of beauty in them. The way the two bass clarinets wrap themselves around a soloing clarinet is ear-opening. Trio explores harmony as well as tonal differences all to good effect. On "Languor", the mass resembles a medieval church organ, while "Televiewer" is a spooky soundtrack to a horror film scene. Individual peeps and squeaks pop in and out of the woodwork, but for the disc's duration, the three act as one body. They possess a communal sense of unity that seems to be otherworldly. Collective blowing is so tender and so precise, you'd think at certain moments, the trio has fallen asleep while playing. To be precise, the pacing is done in slowed-down motion. This is freeze-frame music and something to take in slowly, without rushing things. As with good wine, you sip these sounds and melodies slowly, enjoying every single damn minute. Highly essential listening.
- Tom Sekowski

AAJ
Evocative and serene, The Clarinets is the most subdued item in the Skirl catalog thus far. Less a “jazz” trio than an improvising new music collective, this group of long-term associates offers a program of spontaneous composition that truly defines the over-hyped term. Democratic and balanced, the three principals are careful not individually to dominate the proceedings. Chris Speed, Oscar Noriega and Anthony Burr contribute equally: there is no leader in this trio.
A program of improvised contemporary chamber music full of timbral shading, pitch explorations and nuanced dynamics, the music is refreshing in its restraint. Veering from atmospheric dirges to periodic bursts of feverish energy, this trio explores uncharted territory.
Recorded in an old church in upstate New York, the album is awash in sonic resonance and pastoral ambience. The woody timbre of the clarinets blends in with the surrounding environment for a rich and sublime listening experience.
While plying supple glisses and long tones in polytonal harmony, they emulate ghostly, sustained electronic feedback with acoustic instruments on “Televiewers.” Sparring back and forth during segments of turbulent discourse on the aptly titled ”Accord,” they recall the more assertive moments of such flagship groups as New Winds or Rova. Flirting with neo-classical expressionism, they unfurl buoyant trills and arpeggios with baroque discipline on the joyous “Scrawl.”
Forsaking traditional swing or short, simple melodies, The Clarinets inhabits an Elysian no-man's land situated between the jazz and classical worlds.
- Troy Collins

AAJ
The Clarinets is both the name of the all-clarinet improvisational trio of Chris Speed, Oscar Noriega and Anthony Burr, and the title of their new CD, the first release on Speed’s new Skirl Records imprint. Here Speed (on clarinet), Noriega (on bass clarinet and clarinet) and Burr (on bass clarinet) explore the possibilities of their instruments in an improvised setting. Jazz purists won’t find much to enjoy here: these eight pieces (gloriously recorded in the expansive former-church interior of the NACL Theater in Highland Lake, New York in 2005) display an almost-complete absence of tempo, jazz licks or harmonic development.
That said, this is surely the most affably accessible all-improv recording in a very long time. The Clarinets play measured, patient material that’s undeniably atmospheric—a little too there to be ambient music, but simmering just above the line of that genre—but at the same time musically memorable. The term “instant composition” gets bandied about so often in reference to musical improvisation that it’s become a cliché, but here, for once, it’s true: the power of songs like “Constellating” and “Scrawl” to implant themselves in the listener’s mind is entirely the result of their elegant and, yes, compositional construction.
Texture and tone also play a huge role here. Lovers of the sweet, wooden sounds of these reeds—and that includes the sound of simple aspiration and percussive, popping pads as well as musical notes—will be in ecstasy hearing these voices converse, argue, join and detach. “Languor” couldn’t be more aptly titled as Speed’s clarinet sighs out a melody along the sleepy, slow-stirring bass clarinets of Noriega and Burr. There’s a real sense of unhurried, sunrise awakening—you can almost see the rays playing across the veldt as the lions stretch and rise.
“ Accord” embodies its title just as perfectly as the bass clarinets burble irritably and separately, while Speed’s clarinet sings out wildly-dissimilar long, keening notes. Eventually Noriega takes up Speed’s line, and then the lone holdout, Burr, gives in and takes it up as well, as if grudgingly converted by an unassailable argument. In the end, consonance wins out over schism.
Whether or not the preceding flights of interpretive fancy have any basis in fact doesn’t really matter much. On “Lovescar,” the spacious, silent performing space feels like the fourth member of the band—its emptiness surrounding the quiet cacophany of the increasingly chattering reeds. There’s a pin-drop pregnancy of event here that’s quite powerful, even if the song resists any glib search for narrative.
The three musicians here are old companions and The Clarinets has a corresponding amiability of dialogue—there’s kindness and humor in the voices, even when they’re not unified. Clarinet enthusiasts should hear this music—and so, for that matter, should everyone else.
-Paul Olson