Named after a symbol of rebirth, Tomorrow Is Today keeps reshaping itself in real time.
Giant Step Arts
Mark Turner – tenor sax; Joe Martin – bass; Marcus Gilmore – drums
A lot of this album happens in the space between events. Joe Martin lays down a simple figure and lets it linger. Marcus Gilmore sends cymbal washes drifting across the music, sometimes like weather moving across a distant horizon. Mark Turner enters with a phrase, then another, never seeming in a hurry to arrive anywhere. That patient give-and-take defines Tomorrow Is Today, the debut recording by The Phoenix Trio. Rather than pushing the music forward, these three musicians seem content to let it unfold at its own pace.
Recorded live before an audience at Brooklyn’s Ornithology Club, the trio sounds remarkably comfortable with uncertainty. “The Fencer” begins with Martin’s bass laying down a steady foundation while Gilmore’s cymbals hover like heat rising from pavement. Turner doesn’t rush to define the tune. Instead, he circles the rhythm, testing ideas, letting the music reveal itself a little at a time.
If there’s a recurring sound on Tomorrow Is Today, it’s the shimmer of Gilmore’s cymbals. They drift through nearly every performance, tying the album together as surely as Martin’s bass. That texture is especially noticeable on “Lioness,” where a quiet sense of anticipation hangs over the music as the trio slowly gathers momentum.
The trio’s balance is one of the album’s strengths. Even when one player steps forward, the others stay fully engaged. During “1946,” Turner often functions as part of the rhythm itself, weaving through Martin’s walking lines and Gilmore’s rolling patterns. On “Harvest,” Martin locks into a recurring pulse while Turner pulls against it with winding lines and broken phrases. Gilmore threads in rimshots and cymbal work, keeping the piece unsettled and alive.
The album’s centerpiece, “Tomorrow Is Today,” captures the trio at its most hypnotic. Simple repeated figures gradually pull the listener inward. A bass phrase lingers. Cymbals rise and fall in gentle waves. Turner moves with a searching quality before the music slowly gains momentum. The performance feels circular. It’s as though the musicians are walking around an idea, examining it from every angle before finally letting it dissolve.
By the time “Safe” arrives, the trio has found a harder edge. Martin’s bass strides forward, Gilmore’s drumming crackles with purpose, and Turner responds with some of his most forceful playing on the record. There’s a more insistent, straight-ahead pulse here that brushes past hard-bop energy without ever locking into it.
Named after a symbol of rebirth, Tomorrow Is Today keeps reshaping itself in real time. A bass figure settles, cymbals shimmer through the air, and Turner keeps circling ideas rather than locking them down. Nothing stands still for long; everything keeps changing shape as it unfolds.
