With its wild contrasts and genre-defying compositions, LAUGH ASH pushes the boundaries of what music can be, leaving listeners on the edge of their seats, captivated by its unpredictability and intensity.
Pyroclastic Records
Shara Lunon – voice and vocal processing; Anna Webber – flute; Oscar Noriega – clarinets; James Brandon Lewis – tenor saxophone; Nate Wooley – trumpet; Jennifer Choi – violin; Kyle Armbrust – viola; Michael Nicolas – cello; Shahzad Ismaily – bass and keyboards; Ches Smith – electronics, programming, vibes, drums, tubular bells, glockenspiel, timpani, tam tam, metal percussion
The cover of Ches Smith’s LAUGH ASH shows a fire blazing inside a bucket, a hand tossing in more fuel—a fitting metaphor for the music within. Like the fire’s unpredictable leaps and flickers, the music erupts in wild, syncopated rhythms, constantly teetering on chaos but never losing control.
Ches Smith is a New York drummer, percussionist, and composer whose career spans over two decades of bold collaborations with artists like Marc Ribot, Mary Halvorson, Tim Berne, John Zorn, and Terry Riley. With nine records as a bandleader showcasing his compositions and ensemble vision, Smith also channels his passion into Haitian Vodou drumming, performing in both religious and folkloric settings in New York and Haiti for the past decade.
The opening track, “Minimalism,” rides on a layered, pulse-driven synth pattern that evokes the churning momentum of a steam engine pulling out of the station. The drums hammer out a relentless rhythm, the bass thunders with seismic force, the strings mimic the rhythmic chug of a train, and Shara Lunon’s vocals mimic the “grade crossing signal” — two long blasts, one short, one long — before reciting a poem, its words just out of reach, slipping through the air like a train’s distant whistle.
Anna Webber’s flute weaves intricate, looping patterns with the relentlessly bowed strings on ‘Remote Convivial, ’building tension until the music bursts into a scorching free-funk explosion.
‘Sweatered Webs (Hey Mom) ’unfolds as an austere chamber piece, with Lunon blending beguiling vocals and spoken word. James Brandon Lewis’s approach to the tenor saxophone is bold, unapologetic, and full of snarky charisma that teases and provokes through sharp, jagged phrases designed to upend expectations. Shahzad Ismaily’s bass and Smith’s drumming anchor the piece with syncopated accents that land in surprising places, weaving intricate polyrhythms into the texture.
‘The Most Fucked ’could be a soundtrack for a horror film set in an insane asylum, where the terror lies in not knowing how you got there. Blaring samples, jarring keyboard stabs, tubular bells, and muffled, siren-like vocals create a disorienting and claustrophobic atmosphere that pulls you deeper into the madness.
‘Exit Shivers, ’the longest piece on LAUGH ASH, conjures a heavy, brooding atmosphere steeped in ominous foreboding. Anna Webber’s captivating flute drifts above the stark, experimental classical textures.
With its wild contrasts and genre-defying compositions, LAUGH ASH pushes the boundaries of what music can be, leaving listeners on the edge of their seats, captivated by its unpredictability and intensity.
