Mat Maneri Quartet: Dust
Sunnyside Records

That the lead instrument in Mat Maneri's quartet is viola is unusual enough; even more so, however, is the nature of the material this unit plays. The musicians eschew head-solos-head structure and regulated metre, preferring instead a rubato-styled open-endedness that's oriented less around melody and more on texture. The music unfurls as a slow drift, with the leader and pianist Lucian Ban, bassist John Hebert, and drummer Randy Peterson content to let the music blossom organically. Adding to its painterly quality, Maneri doesn't bow razor-sharp phrases but instead coaxes from his instrument vaporous sonorities different from the viola norm. If it's jazz, its jazz of a distinctly impressionistic kind.

It's also a sound that's been long in the making. Maneri's development began with explorations into classical violin and the vibrato-less sound of Baroque music. Guidance came from his father, woodwind player Joe Maneri, who helped his son find a way to vocalize on the violin or viola, with the playing styles of figures such as Ben Webster and Miles Davis models deserving of attention. Collaborations with Cecil Taylor, Evan Parker, Paul Motian, and Craig Taborn ensued, which helped further advance an approach that would see the violist's music embodying an oxymoronic melding of stillness and movement. Consistent with a personal style that's evolved over time, Maneri's played with Peterson since the late ‘80s and Ban for the past decade.

Recorded in fall of 2017, Dust features nine tracks, all Maneri originals but for two by Ban and two improvisations. The pianist's “Mojave” opens the set and immediately establishes the floating tone of the album. All four contribute meaningfully, their expressions delivered in a manner free of fixed pulse. Peterson colours the playing with cymbal accents and splashes, Hebert directs the music restrainedly, and Ban and Maneri converse intently, the violist giving the pensive performance its primary melodic shape. Perpetuating the slow-motion tempo of “Mojave” is Maneri's “51 Sorrows,” whose hazy, rubato drift amplifies the abstract character of the material. When music is so somnolent, attentive listening is needed to appreciate how responsive the musicians are to the interactions that arise. Maneri's lugubrious “Losed,” for instance, might be slow moving, but following its progress moment-by-moment reveals a wealth of detail and activity. Peterson constantly ornaments the setting with drum and cymbal accents, and the others show themselves to be as engaged in the performance.

November 2019