Across all five tracks, the Jung Stratmann Quartet builds a patient, melodic world that rewards close listening.
Self Released
Sujae Jung — piano; Wolf Robert Stratmann – double bass; Steve Cardenas – guitar; Marko Djordjevic – drums
From the first moments of Confluence, you can tell this quartet likes to let ideas breathe. Sujae Jung and Wolf Robert Stratmann write tunes that unfold in their own time, almost like they’re giving the band time to find the right angle of light. They’ve been building that sensibility for a while—first as a duo, then through a handful of side projects that wander into ambient electronics and even field-recording experiments—and you can hear that same curiosity shaping the way these pieces unfold. With Steve Cardenas on guitar and Marko Djordjevic on drums, the group settles into an easy, conversational space where melody and texture feel just as important as momentum.
The record opens with “Tree Huggers,” which sets the tone for the whole album: booming, resonant bass; lyrical piano lines that take their time; and Cardenas drifting in with clean, unhurried phrases that seem simple at first but carry real charm. There’s an easy back-and-forth between piano and guitar—almost like they’re finishing each other’s thoughts—and Djordjevic shifts from soft support to something firmer and more assertive as the tune widens out.
That patient, exploratory feeling carries into “Summer Whale,” though the energy moves differently here. Stratmann kicks things off with a repeating bass figure, and Jung sprinkles light, tinkling notes around it. When Cardenas solos, he stays close to the melody, each note placed with an easy, unforced touch, while the bass and drums get more active underneath, bouncing ideas back and forth.
The album’s mood turns inward on “This Wine Tastes Very Dry,” a quiet, free-floating ballad where everyone feels their way through the tune one gesture at a time. Low bass rumbles, scattered piano fragments, light cymbal touches—the whole piece hangs on restraint. Cardenas adds a few soft, ringing notes, almost like he’s testing the air. It’s one of those tracks where silence feels like its own instrument.
Things brighten again with “The Pull,” which opens with lively piano flurries and a stronger, more grounded bass line. The tune has an easy sway to it, the kind of feel that lets the band stretch out without pushing too hard. Jung’s solo has a simplicity and a melodic inevitability, and the rhythm section keeps things moving with just the right amount of lift.
The closing piece, “After Sunset,” is short, delicate, and quietly affecting. Jung lays out an unhurried melody, and Stratmann follows with a warm, melodic bass solo that feels more like conversation than a spotlight moment. Djordjevic adds soft brushes and light touches around them, and the tune settles gently to a close.
Across all five tracks, the Jung Stratmann Quartet builds a patient, melodic world that rewards close listening. Confluence may be a compact release, but it introduces Jung and Stratmann’s writing—and the quartet’s easy chemistry—in a way that feels inviting and full of promise.
