The number of jazz releases on vinyl keeps growing, with recent developments including a wave of both new and reissued ECM titles receiving the wax treatment. Also, the subscription-based and vinyl-only New York/Paris label Newvelle has embarked upon its second six-album subscription series. In an earlier blog entry I stated that Newvelle listeners “can count on solid, gimmick-free, well-recorded jazz by a label that quickly found its own identity. The production standards are exceptional, and the clear 180-gram platters sound great.” Having heard and seen all six releases of the first subscription series and disc one of the second, I see no reason to go back on those words. “Production standards” would include gatefold album covers that are themselves works of art and that ultimately, for the first series, when merged with a box set designed by Antoine Leroux, resembled a thick and stylish art book.
So, as we delve into the second year, what other generalizations can we make? Stylistically there isn’t a “Newvelle style,” but after seven albums one detects a fondness for uncluttered small-group performances and pristine sound. For some cuts on Newvelle’s initial release, Meantime, Frank Kimbrough led a quintet; otherwise, every track on the first seven records is on a smaller scale, down to the solo piano performances that Jack DeJohnette recorded for Return. Aside from electric guitar and the occasional cut where the bassist switches from acoustic to electric, the instrumentation is all acoustic. The music is recorded at EastSide Sound in New York City with Marc Urselli as the mixing engineer. “I use mostly vintage and some tube microphones,” Urselli has stated, “all analog, and some tube pre-amps, and all the inputs are run through and summed through an entirely analog console (a Harrison Series Ten B) that has no AD’s or DA’s anywhere.”
There’s been some overlap in personnel. Along with his solo piano album, Return, Jack DeJohnette drummed on Leo Genovese’s trio date Argentinosaurus, which also featured Esperanza Spalding on bass. Another bassist, John Patitucci, was among the sidemen on Noah Preminger’s Some Other Time. On the first LP for the second subscription series, Patitucci leads a trio session with Yotam Silberstein on acoustic and electric guitar and Rogério Boccato on drums and percussion. Drawing from such top-drawer Brazilian composers as João Bosco, Milton Nasciemento, Egberto Gismonti, Antonio Carlos Jobim, and Chico Buarque, Irmãos de Fé strikes a nice balance between wistful ballads and faster tempos, with thoughtful arrangements adding interesting twists. On the opening cut, a Milton Nasciemento composition that also serves as the title track, the trio remains subdued until Silberstein uncorks a solo that soars, the velvet tone of his guitar adding beauty to the sudden epiphany. On another Milton Nasciemento song, “Catavento,” both Silverstein and Patituci start leaving out notes while landing on the same beat, in what almost sounds like a game of musical hopscotch. As a soloist, Patituci has mastered the art of using a few notes to make a powerful statement, and Boccato uses a light touch to coax the rhythm ahead and add color. Fans of well-recorded jazz, Brazilian jazz, and guitar trios should check out Irmãos de Fé.
Upcoming releases on Newvelle include albums by Chris Tordini, Jon Cowherd, and Aruan Ortiz as well as duets by Kevin Hays and Lionel Louke and a session where the Rufus Reid Trio is joined by the Sirius Quartet. This year the album covers, previously black and white, include color, but that’s always been there in the music.
By Jeff Wilson
This will take some explaining, but I can connect the dots between pawing through LPs at a headshop called Elysian Fields in Des Moines, Iowa, as a seventh grader, and becoming the Music Editor for The Absolute Sound. At that starting point—around 1970/71—Elysian Fields had more LPs than any other store in Des Moines. Staring at all the colorful covers was both tantalizing and frustrating. I had no idea who most of the artists were, because radio played only a fraction of what was current. To figure out what was going on, I realized that I needed to build a record collection—and as anyone who’s visited me since high school can testify, I succeeded. Record collecting was still in my blood when, starting in the late 1980s, the Cincinnati Public Library book sale suddenly had an Elysian Fields quantity of LPs from people who’d switched to CDs. That’s where I met fellow record hawk Mark Lehman, who preceded me as music editor of TAS. Mark introduced me to Jonathan Valin, whose 1993 detective novel The Music Lovers depicts the battles between record hawks at library sales. That the private eye in the book, Harry Stoner, would stumble upon a corpse or two while unraveling the mystery behind the disappearance of some rare Living Stereo platters made perfect sense to me. After all, record collecting is serious business. Mark knew my journalistic experience included concert reviews for The Cincinnati Enquirer and several long, sprawling feature articles in the online version of Crawdaddy. When he became TAS music editor in 2008, he contacted me about writing for the magazine. I came on board shortly after the latest set of obituaries had been written for vinyl—and, as fate had it, right when the LP started to make yet another unexpected comeback. Suddenly, I found myself scrambling to document all the record companies pressing vinyl. Small outfits were popping up world-wide, and many were audiophile-oriented, plus already existing record companies began embracing the format again. Trying to keep track of everything made me feel, again, like that overwhelmed seventh grader in Elysian Fields, and as Music Editor I’ve found that keeping my finger on the pulse of the music world also requires considerable detective work. I’ve never had a favorite genre, but when it comes time to sit down and do some quality listening, for me nothing beats a well-recorded small-group jazz recording on vinyl. If a stereo can give me warmth and intimacy, tonal accuracy, clear imaging, crisp-sounding cymbals, and deep, woody-sounding bass, then I’m a happy camper.
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