Brendler has put together a team that knows when to run with the ball and when to pass it along.
Lost Song Records
Peter Brendler – bass; Jon Irabagon – tenor saxophone; Zach Lapidus – piano, synth; Mark Ferber – drums
The day after he led the Giants to a Super Bowl win, Lawrence Taylor felt hollow, and he said so. The thrill was the chase, and when it ended — And then, nothing. Bassist Peter Brendler, a lifelong Giants fan, took that line for the title of And Then, Nothing, his first album as a leader in ten years. Over that decade he stockpiled tunes while the friends he wanted to play them with scattered, one to the Midwest, one to Los Angeles.
When the four finally got into a room, they made the record in two days. Their version of Keith Jarrett’s “Country” opens with a pretty piano line that could fit in a country song. Brendler comes in with a melodic bass line that pushes the rhythm, then switches to bow as Irabagon plays a melody so pretty he could almost pass for a smooth jazz player. Lapidus takes an electric-piano solo as Irabagon pushes harder, the drums bear down, and the music turns funky, rocking its way toward R&B.
“More So Than Ever” has a good post-bop groove, but what stands out is how tightly the four play together and how easy they make it sound. Lapidus’s piano lines cling to Irabagon’s saxophone, the bass keeps thumping underneath, and the drums stay sharp. One player steps out for a while, adding a little flourish, then folds back into the music. Even the solos feel like part of the same piece of work, rather than breaks in it.
An onslaught of drumbeats opens “The Least of It.” Piano and saxophone lines fly back and forth. The piano’s deeply melodic, but there’s a percussive edge there too, with Lapidus occasionally tagging a little trill on the end of a phrase. Ferber’s stickwork is terrific, his cymbal washes perfectly placed.
The title track has a slightly off-kilter bossa nova feel, with Irabagon’s sax sounding almost dreamy, a blush of dissonance for color. Lapidus lays down bop lines on acoustic piano, then takes a lovely solo. Brendler’s walking bass keeps talking. With all four players high in the mix, it’s easy to hear how they weave around one another, stepping out for a solo before folding back into that tight full-team huddle.
“Since Forever” starts with repeated figures from the drums, bass and synth, a roiling rhythm beneath Lapidus’s percolating notes. Irabagon kicks up the intensity, and Brendler comes back with a quick stream of melodic notes. The repeated sax phrases slow and fade, and the music winds down with them.
Brendler has put together a team that knows when to run with the ball and when to pass it along.
