Scott Lee: Through the Mangrove Tunnels
Panoramic Recordings

Through the Mangrove Tunnels unfolds like a collection of eight short stories by a Southern writer such as Flannery O'Connor, with each musical treatment telling its own unique tale. That impression is especially strong in this case because composer Scott Lee deliberately crafted his material using childhood memories of Florida's swamps and bayous as a wellspring from which to draw. Personal experiences of canoeing through those titular tunnels and exploring Weedon Island, a nature preserve in St. Petersburg, inform the work's character, the result a vivid and highly personalized evocation conveyed through performances by the JACK Quartet (violinists Christopher Otto and Ari Streisfeld, violist John Pickford Richards, and cellist Kevin McFarland), pianist Steven Beck, and drummer Russell Lacy. The unusual instrumental combination alone attests to the idiosyncratic nature of the project.

The short description posted at Lee's Bandcamp page characterizes his music as marrying “the intricacy of classical form with the more visceral rhythmic language of contemporary popular music, creating a complex music of the present with broad appeal.” That's a pretty accurate assessment, insofar as it captures in simplest terms what happens on Through the Mangrove Tunnels. Had the JACK Quartet alone been involved, the work would have assumed a more formal classical quality; with Beck and Lacy included, its music feels more spontaneous. While through-composed passages are present, there are others that feel more improvised, Lee likely having integrated that dimension into the work to loosen it up and capture the spirit of the movement in question. Through the Mangrove Tunnels is hardly jazz, but certain moments partake of its free-wheeling spirit.

The work is both impressionistic and programmatic: each part comes with a backstory that helps clarify why the material assumes the form it does. Lee uses ominous piano chords in the opening title movement, for example, to allude to the mysteries within the titular tunnels. “Flying Fish” evokes the leaping movements of the mullet, a fish that commonly appears in large schools around Weedon Island, and “The Man in the Water” conveys the unnerving image of a lone figure encountered by youngsters during a boat ride. In “The Ballad of Willie Cole,” the work's most programmatic movement, Lee recounts the saga of an African-American resident of Weedon Island wrongfully convicted of murder and arson but eventually exonerated and freed from prison. Other parts draw for inspiration from more area-related stories, with details about Spanish conquistadors, plane crashes, Native Americans, a failed movie studio, and other topics used as foundations to build upon. (In addition to photos depicting the swampy locale, the booklet included with the release provides in-depth background for each movement.)

As different as its parts are, Lee smartly gives the work unifying shape by revisiting the brooding opening statement during the concluding one, “Floating Away.” His musical design often mirrors the narrative content; frenzied passages within “The Man in the Water,” for instance, suggest the panic of boys running away from the figure they've unwittingly encountered. The fluid, high-energy intro of “Engine Trouble” intimates that the family boat Lee once took for a spin is in fine working order, but thereafter repeated breakdowns and attempted re-starts show not everything went according to plan.“The Ballad of Willie Cole” is so episodic in design, it veritably cries out for an accompanying film treatment to depict Cole's adventure. The instruments hurtle forth at one moment, collapse into chaos at another as the drama unfolds.

The sound design in “Narvaez Dance Club” proves particularly arresting when a pulse materializes from the union of diverse string effects (pizzicato, scratch tones, glissandi, etc.) with insistent piano chords and bass drum accents. Its title taken from a film produced by a studio on Weedon Island in the 1920s,“Playthings of Desire” alternates between turbulent episodes and sweetly nostalgic ones, all of it delivered with characteristic aplomb by the pianist and string players. On an album whose music is often urgent, elegiac passages in the Copland-esque closing movement offer a soothing respite.

January 2021