Alberto Braida Talus Nuscope 1022 Sand in My Shoes / The Legs of the Moon / Anarchism / Larius / Senz'ombra / Rocks and Bells / Pixie's Pic / The Next Meal / Riding with Ghosts and Stones/ Non Detto / Atil / Ghosts on the String. 77:04. Braida, p. Nov 28, 2008, Udine, Italy. It's a real shame that pianist Braida isn't better known, but his generally furtive style does seem to fit with his low profile. The dampening and slo-mo on "Sand in My Shoes" capture something of his style, which is often elliptical and sounds unwilling to reveal itself. So it's a struggle to come up with helpful comparisons for his music. At times it sounds almost like Ran Blake when he's not exploring idiomatic materials. But then there are some playfully inserted monastic moves that occur. Even then, however, just when you think Braida's going to show his hand, he retreats quickly with some inside piano work, or the pensive percussive approach of "The Legs of the Moon." It's all over the place in a positive sense, as a gifted thinker and technician simply lets his imagination roam. Braida has a fascinating habit of shaking himself free of an idea the moment it's been established--the development of no development, the narrative of no narrative--and so while he might start out with some spiky arpeggios (as on "Anarchism"), he's like to shift imme diately to hitting a pedal point, or moving into a dramatic register shift or something similar. Despite such lightning quick changes, there's a consistency of mood and feel. I don't know how he does it but it's damn good music. The latter tracks are even more reflec tive: the lovely near-standard "Larius," which seems to flirt with "But Beautiful" by way of Webern; the pin-drop delicacy of "Pixie's Pic"; and "Rock and Bells," a compellingly melancholy meditation. Some of these pieces seem just a touch more idiomatic, with some actual chords progressions (albeit highly mutated ones) poking through on "No Detto" and "Ghosts on the String." It might seem odd to com pare his transformations of the piano's idiomatic properties to Dave Burrell--who is more invested in wrestling with musical, rather than instrumental idioms--but there's a similar radicalism at work in Braida's music, as he seems to revisit first principles, as it were. One of the better solo piano discs I've heard of late. Jason Bivins ___________________________________________________________________________________________________ Alberto Braida Talus (Nuscope, 2009) Jazz is not dead (I thought I would never write that), it defines and determines new music. Music had to go through jazz to reinvent itself, and come out all the richer, more subtle, with lots of technical skills, but only as a functional means, not as a goal per se. Next step is to make it more popular while keeping its uncompromising but - in principle - potential for universal appeal. Stef - Free Jazz website ___________________________________________________________________________________________________ Alberto Braida
The free improv milieu currently has a crowded field of talented practitioners; particularly pianists - George Graewe, Steven Lantner, Matthew Shipp, Craig Taborn, and Fred Van Hove all immediately leap to mind. But Alberto Braida's latest CD, Talus, reminds one that there's certainly room for one more. On Talus, Braida makes his mark: pointedly. Christian Carey ___________________________________________________________________________________________________ Alberto Braida Talus More so than for any other instrument, memorable solo performance has long been the testing ground and potential triumph for any pianist who wishes to fully exploit and herald his or her skills in any idiom. Improvised music is no exception, with keyboardists choosing to measure themselves in a line that stretches from Jelly Roll Morton and Art Tatum through Thelonious Monk and Cecil Taylor. While this proposition remains the same in the 21st Century, the process, planning and production of a solo piano disc takes on new dimensions. During the dozen tracks that make up his disc, Lodi, Italy-based Alberto Braida spends as much time playing inside the piano as outside. Linked to the extended jazz tradition, Braida brings a relentless inevitability to his playing along with inspiration. The performance is usually confidently chromatic as it exposes his individualistic creative mulch of the blues, standards-references and Thelonious Monk-like angularity. Plus the pianist, who has recorded with saxophonist John Butcher and bassist Lisle Ellis among others, shuffles the tradition among internal piano string excavations. A track such as "The Legs of the Moon" for instance, is extended and collated with passing chords and allusions that seem to bring Morton Feldman's and John Cage's values into the mix along with Monk and Cecil Taylor implications. Eventually rough, repeated syncopation gives way to microscopically illuminated singular key clicks. In contrast "Anarchism", true to its title, appears be performed at an apocryphal half-fast tempo with high-pitched resonations colored and completed by slow-paced subterranean rumbles. With jagged timbres scratched from the keys rather than pressed when voiced, the exposition is reinforced with skewed honky-tonk cross tones. Eventually the pumping expansion moves past a flirtation with Impressionism to a ratcheting contrapuntal melody in the keyboard's highest range. Monk allusions come through most strongly on the final and penultimate track, with the last sounding as if its lyrical waves with cascading bluesy undertones are about to become "Blue Monk' any second. Smooth and andante, this "Ghosts on the String" also includes split-second invocation of pop melodies. As for the penultimate "Atil", it lines up sprightly and slippery adagio form variations with sinewy methodical coloring; and fuse into a climax that is both key-clipping tough and wedding-march like glossy. Seemingly more relaxed on shorter tracks, Braida also varies his pacing. Lyrical lullabies and off-centre slips and pops can be on show in parallel narratives; so can pre-modern near-stride intonation or layered repeated motifs that bond into a near-opaque interface. Other procedures include flattened pedal stops, knife-like key stabs and harp-like glissandi. One of the defining performances is on "Rock and Bells" - a tribute to Elvis and Ayler perhaps? - which is simultaneously tough and airy. With items inserted among the instrument's strings, what results is a keening kalimba-like interface. But these timbres are balanced by resounding block chords. Working his way up the scale, Braida's supple hand-jive not only exposes discursive clacks and snaps, but somehow also manages to allude to balladic forms propelled with Céline Dion-like intensity. This memorable disc outlines an impressive individual approach to singular improvising. Ken Waxman ___________________________________________________________________________________________________
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