Simone Baron & Arco Belo: The Space Between Disguises
GenreFluid Records

The fluidity pianist-accordionist Simone Baron embraces in characterizing her Arco Belo ensemble as “genre-queer” is paralleled by the polyglot stylistic breadth of the group's debut effort The Space Between Disguises. Though the recording might be classified jazz, it's rarely so in any strict sense, even if an improvisatory spirit informs parts of it. One is as likely to hear Baron assembling elements of chamber classical, folk, and hip-hop like some crate-digging bedroom producer as leading her ensemble through a solos-rich performance; further to that, echoes of Balkan, Brazilian, and Argentinean musics emerge, such tendencies displacing the release ever further from jazz's center.

Sidestepping pigeonholing comes naturally to Baron, whose accordion playing is featured as prominently on the recording as piano. And true to her nature, her approach to the accordion is decidedly forward-thinking: rather than hew to established tropes, she strives to divest the instrument of its familiar status and allow it to speak with a fresh voice. The make-up of her band likewise challenges established practice, omitting as it does a front-line horn, woodwind, or guitar player; instead, Arco Belo augments her piano and accordion with strings (violinist/violist Aaron Malone, violist Bill Neri, cellist Peter Kibbe), bass (Mike Pope on double and electric), percussion (Patrick Graney), and drums (Lucas Ashby, also percussion); the name Arco Belo, of course, slyly references both bowed strings and the accordion's bellows.

The music's occasional cut-and-paste quality is alluded to by the very title of the opening cut, “Post Edit Delete,” but even more so by the many shifts in style packed into its five minutes. After an elegant strings-only intro, a similarly toned classical piano segment appears that's itself supplanted by a pizzicato-driven folk dance and finally a breezy piano-led jazz sequence. And in clocking in at twelve minutes, “Passive Puppeteer” makes good on the opportunity to pursue multiple paths, from Latin-inflected playing to solemn classical passages featuring strings and Milonga-styled accordion moments. Five minutes in, the track even sees Ashby laying down a funk groove for an equally funky solo by Pope on electric.

Interspersed throughout the eleven-track set are three experimental interludes produced by Ray McNamara (producer credits are otherwise shared by Baron, Ashby, and Pope). Typically short, they're, not surprisingly, the cuts most rooted in a cratedigger aesthetic, sketches of the kind one might expect from someone like J Dilla or Scott Herren. Arresting moments regularly emerge. “Angle of Incidence,” for example, catches the ear when a riff's ping-ponged back and forth between the double bass and a plucked string instrument; the spirited, good-time folk romp “Who Cares,” by comparison, stands out for wedding Baron's accordion to Mark Schatz's banjo and Sandeep Das's tabla.

Baron supplements original compositions with inspired selections by others, including jazz pianist Walter Bishop Jr. (“Those Who Chant”) and Béla Bartók (the rousing “Buciumeana,” the fourth of his Romanian Folk Dances, here paired with the traditional “Kadynja”). But the album's loveliest piece is undeniably the romantic reading given Tibor Fittel's “Valsa,” in no small part because of the achingly beautiful melody at its core that's repeatedly voiced by different players (guest violinist Ellen Mcsweeney among them).

December 2019