Jenna Cave Sextet: Grief, Hope, Love (ABC Jazz ABC J0033D)
Australian jazz composer Jenna Cave identifies the concept of “grief literacy”, which might be defined as the means of giving voice to heartbreak and distress resulting from the death of someone close. In 2022, aged 38, she became a single parent to her three-year-old daughter after her husband committed suicide.
In this commissioned suite of six songs, she articulates and processes the traumas of bereavement. The singer is Kristin Berardi, with Yutaro Okuda (guitar), Tom Avgenicos (trumpet and flugelhorn), Loretta Palmeiro (sax and clarinet), Hannah James (bass) and Chloe Kim (drums).
Such emotional negotiation is a tall order but Cave fulfils it with dignity and eloquence, employing a jazz combo that might be inclined – as is jazz’s wont – to be on the move but which also connects instinctively with the music’s history of catharsis through suffering. It does move – on Chloe’s Song, for her daughter, and The Void – almost in spite of the melancholy stasis that characterises two short improvisations, and the sorrow that consumes Be Gentle, this last with claims to become an Australian jazz classic. Berardi brings a touching fragility to the lyrics and Cave’s discreet arrangements suggest that the musicians, in their deference, are there to share her anguish, her memories and her hopes for the future.
Ron Ledoux Quartet: Views, Visions & Destinations (ron-ledoux.com)
Canadian guitarist Ron Ledoux’s second quartet album is a follow-up to A Stone’s Throw, which garnered complimentary reviews internationally and was nominated for jazz album of the year in two competitions. All nine charts on the second album are Ledoux originals, and the arrangements are by bassist Gilbert Joanis.
Ledoux mixes foot-on-the-gas motoring – the funky Turn Right, But Go Left and the fast-cruising Well, You Mean It – with more pensive vistas and visions, such as Heefen Heights, The View Above The Hills, and Stillness Of A Summer Evening.
The interplay between Ledoux and the keyboards of Paul Shrofel gives the tunes edge and glitter. The course of the charts is intelligently plotted, though Joanis’s background bass is non-reverberative electric, making the case for the boom and depth of an acoustic instrument.
But everything moves along nicely on this self-published recording when it’s not taking in the scenery.
Gregory Privat: Phoenix (Buddham Jazz BJO 3121)
Gregory Privat crystallises what has often seemed like a jazz identity crisis as the piano trio makes slow but continual changes. Is the Martinique-born musician a singer-pianist or a pianist-singer? Is a singer-pianist a singer who also assumes a subordinate accompanying role, and is a pianist-singer a pianist who by singing simply provides added value?
On his latest album these distinctions are so blurred that they probably don’t concern Privat any more than they should waylay the listener. The term “vocalist” is here more accurately applied to him in self-penned compositions that embed the voice, sometimes layered to vocalised choral effect, as in Genesis. By contrast, and on the gently rocking and strophic Supernova, the vocal line is ghosted by a single-note piano accompaniment, a sure sign that a musician knows its provenance in classical art song.
With Privat (doubling keyboards) is bassist Chris Jennings and drummer Tilo Bertholo. The three ensure that the whole of each chart is not so much greater than its parts but an experience enlivened by the sounds of surprise, as in the swooping harmonies of Le Marchand De Sable and the energising modulations of Metamorphosis. One wonders expectantly where these arrangements are going next. It’s nearly always to somewhere refreshing and orchestral. Phoenix delivers big time, despite a slight tendency to court sentimentality.
