Space matters here, and the band knows exactly when to leave it alone — a choice that gives the music its shape long after the last note fades.
April Records
Chris Cheek — saxophones (tenor/soprano); Torben Bjørnskov — double bass; Esben Tjalve — piano; Frederik Bülow — drums
Ideas arrive, linger, and move on in Being, the new Human Being Human album with Chris Cheek, and you hear it in how the band handles time and space. On the title track, a walking bass line with small rhythmic turns leaves room for subtle piano comping, while Cheek eases into a softer, more relaxed voice. This is the trio’s third album for April Records, and it sounds like a group comfortable enough with its own language to bring Cheek in without changing the way it speaks.
“Human Rights” then shows how direct that language can be. After a brief piano introduction, the groove settles and Cheek comes in with a bright, open tone — no breathiness, no excess vibrato — moving easily from the lower register to the top of the horn. Bjørnskov’s full-bodied bass tone stays woody and resonant, and Frederik Bülow’s nimble stick work adds detail without crowding the sound. They’re precise, but the precision breathes.
The band can be mischievous, too. A repeating bass figure and light percussion set “Human Impact” in motion, and Cheek responds by climbing into the upper register with a playful, dancing feel. The rhythm section stays nimble, letting the tune float, while Esben Tjalve’s piano solo slips behind the beat before dropping in a clomping run down the keyboard that gently breaks the mood.
“Filia” is pared down to a duo, built around a steady, clearly articulated walking bass line and a laid-back saxophone that feels conversational. Both players let notes linger past where you’d expect them to move on. “Human Spirit” shifts the mood. Cheek plays breathier, with more vibrato, even letting the horn squeal at moments like a small cry in the dark, while the piano pulls gently against the beat and the drums move with calm, stately patience.
“Human Nature” settles into a relaxed shuffle, the drummer using space well, leaving gaps for the music to breathe. Cheek plays with a dry, cool tone. The piano comps softly, the bass favoring long, sustained notes before a melodic solo that stays grounded and unforced.
The closing “Human Instinct” stays patient to the end. Its slow buildup and repeated phrases create a sense of suspended motion, more reflective than dramatic. The payoff is subtle rather than obvious, and while it doesn’t break the album’s calm surface, it leaves things open-ended — a reserved finish that feels intentional, even gentle, as a way out.
Space matters here, and the band knows exactly when to leave it alone — a choice that gives the music its shape long after the last note fades.
