Four hours. Almost no second takes. A dream meeting that sounds exactly like one.
Hammer Recordings
Florian Arbenz – Drums, Percussion; Bill Frisell – Guitar; Greg Osby | Saxophone
Swiss drummer and composer Florian Arbenz has been quietly building one of the most distinctive voices in European jazz — not just behind the kit, but on the page, where his writing has grown into something equally personal and precise. Getting Bill Frisell into a room alongside longtime collaborator Greg Osby was a dream Arbenz had carried for a while, and when it happened he knew exactly what to write for them — simple, open pieces that let two of the most distinctive voices in jazz do what they do best. His instincts were right.
What came out sounds like three musicians who’ve known each other for years — unhurried, attentive, every note earning its place.
Frisell’s guitar tone immediately grabs you — full and warm, each note given room to decay. On “Lueget vo Berg und Tal,” a Swiss folk melody and the track closest to an actual song, he sets a deep bass note booming through an effects pedal, fluid precise notes spilling out above it. It’s a beautiful piece.
Osby’s tone throughout is clear and ringing, no breathiness, nothing forced. On “Chant” the three of them sound as though they’re inhabiting a vast, cathedral-like space, each sound placed gently, carefully, as if not wanting to disturb what’s already there. On “Quiet Lights” he plays a lovely refrain, steps back to scatter a few higher notes — little flurries, almost squeals of joy — while Frisell takes the melody, then returns to where he started, the two trading back and forth, Arbenz’s toms and stick work keeping everything moving forward.
Intricate drum beats set “Homenaje” in motion, sax and guitar shooting the breeze — Osby’s searching lines, Frisell’s answers filled with coyly picked cascading notes. The mood shifts, Arbenz moving from sounding like the susurration of rustling leaves to a steady rolling thunder, Osby splattering out short jagged phrases, Frisell throwing them right back.
“Rhumba” is similar but goes further, Osby on soprano, the three instruments sitting at identical levels in the mix — melody tossed back and forth, the drums a primal rhythm growing steadily heavier, the guitar’s bass notes right behind them. Osby rides the drum beats with staccato bird-like flurries of notes while Frisell, working his pedal board, sets up reverberating loops that echo to the end and single notes held until they sizzle and crackle.
“Jammin’ in the Children’s Corner” is loose and swinging, the three of them locked in tight, right on the beat, before it ends as abruptly as it began.
Four hours. Almost no second takes. A dream meeting that sounds exactly like one.
