Further Evolution of the Jazz Underground -or- Jazz Isn't Dead, It Just Smells Funny

In the tiny corner of the internet known as “The Free Bin” rule numero uno so far has been to write only about obscure music that I wouldn't have otherwise heard of had I not found it in The Free Bin, i.e. obscure stuff sent in by starving, independent artists who have been largely ignored by virtually all press and mainstream audiences. However, since I made the rule I can certainly bend it a little and review my new favorite disc, Tiny Resistors by the still independent, but decreasingly obscure, Brooklyn-based bassist/composer Todd Sickafoose. I promise I will resist blogging about the new Lil' Bow Wow album I found in the pile.

The reason I have braved this slippery slope is that Tiny Resistors is A) too good not to share with you and B) is perfect supporting evidence to contradict one of my least favorite popular misconceptions, to wit: “Jazz is Dead.” The truth of course is that Jazz is thriving and genius pervades the scene just as much as it ever has. Whether anyone currently appreciates this point is perhaps a separate topic entirely but Jazz's reputation as a dead music or even an ambiguous, undead entity doomed to wander the spooky outskirts of artistic relevance is inextricably linked to its dwindling audience. How did it come to this?

Somewhere along the way, whether it was the absence of good taste during the 70's fusion movement, or the staunch traditionalism of some of the more visible artists of the 90's and 00's, Jazz went from being a form of popular music to a sub genre of classical music or an intellectual novelty that smacks of self indulgence. A certain book of rules pertaining to style or instrumentation had come to define an art form that had previously been defined by spontaneity and constant re-invention from within as well as from without. An over-reliance and dogmatic reverence to tradition has produced a Jazz scene the mainstream of which predominantly consists of an aging set of fans go to see an aging set of artists rehashing the same music that originally made them popular three or four decades ago. [ranting]

With the release of Tiny Resistors Sickafoose and his contemporaries have authoritatively marked their place as integral players in a movement that may very well reverse these current stigmas and bring innovative, creative music back to the spotlight. Worn out idioms are pushed aside as the band explores fresh textures and timbres. The obligatory Jazz solo is eschewed in favor of a more collective improvisatory approach which brings the listener rewarding and unexpected developments all within a tightly through-composed structure.

The overarching backbone to this structure is clearly groove. No matter how off kilter the pulse or how subtle the rhythmic interplay, dance-ability trumps complication. Tunes like “Invisible Ink” or “Warm Stone” groove hard, pulling at your bones with an irresistible kinetic energy. The warm, organic tone from Sickafoose's upright bass lends a grounded, folksy feel to “Everyone is Going” the 11/8 time signature of which is usually reserved for nerdy Prog Rock fare. Even the head bobbing opening track, “Future Flora,” seems simple enough until you realize that your head is only bobbing to the down beat every other meter, on account of the 10/8.

And as the booty shakes, the mind reels at the matrix of poly-rhythms Sickafoose and his cohorts weave over the foundational grooves. Beautiful in its breadth of imagination and intriguing in its dense complexity, the interplay between the instruments exists far outside the constraints of genre as a limitless exploration rather than a new mix of old sounds. In the epic adventure that is “Bye Bye Bees” Afro-Cuban beats and Flamenco hand claps bounce over rock drums while insistent horns and guitar cut through voices, whistles and touches of electronica floating in the ether. Rather than merely adding a separate flavor to the proceedings, each of these parts' harmonic and rhythmic space relates uniquely with the others, fitting together in a 3-D sonic jigsaw puzzle of textural potential.

One of this music's greatest strengths is that while it innovates, it also exhibits an undeniable reverence for the musical history on which it builds. The horn arrangements of “Pianos of the 9^th Ward,” an elegy for a post-Katrina New Orleans, are a lovingly crafted tribute to the days of the Big Band and if you isolated the horn tracks you easily might think you were listening to a recording from a different era. The beauty of Tiny Resistors is that it shows that influences can be referenced and nods can be given in appropriate directions but within a progressive context the sound remains fresh, just like Jazz was intended to be.