Myra Melford's Fire & Water Quintet: Hear the Light Singing
RogueArt

It's tempting to describe pianist Myra Melford as the ringleader of Fire & Water Quintet; her latest release does, after all, provide a terrific stage for Ingrid Laubrock (tenor and soprano saxophones), Tomeka Reid (cello), Mary Halvorson (guitar), and Lesley Mok (drums). Melford does much more than merely orchestrate the proceedings, however: as the pianist and composer, her contributions are as vital, if not even more, as those by her colleagues. That said, there's no denying a major part of the album's appeal derives from hearing Melford's formidable partners play, especially when the outlet for expression they're granted is so generous.

Hear the Light Singing makes for a natural sequel to Melford's 2022 release For the Love of Fire and Water when the line-up's almost the same (the drum chair was earlier occupied by Susie Ibarra) and the approach similar. The new one's five “insertions,” as Melford calls them, are connected to the pieces on the 2022 set: they were written to, in her words, “entwine with the original suite but still stand alone.” No one need be familiar with For the Love of Fire and Water to reap the considerable listening rewards the new one affords, though hearing both dynamic statements in sequence enhances one's appreciation for what the five create.

Melford smartly harnessed the energy and rapport nurtured by the quintet during a cross-country tour promoting For the Love of Fire and Water by recording Hear the Light Singing at New Haven's Firehouse 12 soon after the last gig was played. She also wrote the material with her partners in mind, whereas the earlier recording featured material she imagined would be fun to play with them. With the shortest “insertion” just shy of seven minutes and the longest eighteen, the tracks provide ample space and time for individual expression and group interplay.

The leader initiates “Insertion One” with a dazzling unaccompanied solo before the others enter, thematic territory collectively established first before things opens up for freer interactions. Laubrock's soprano cartwheels acrobatically across a martial pulse by Mok until micro-dialogues emerge between different combinations of players. Alternating fluidly between notated and improv sections, the material allows all five opportunities to assert themselves, and Halvorson, immediately identifiable as always, floods the closing minutes with spidery runs and chords that seem to melt and bend in her hands. Reid opens the second piece alone, her outpouring mournful and searching, before Melford joins her to intensify the lamenting tone. As the material slowly swells into a full ensemble statement, it never loses its dolorous quality, even when strafed by Halvorson during its second half.

An expansive, episodic journey, “Insertion Three A+B” follows a fluttering guitar-and-drums intro with scalding figures from Halvorson and a voluble exploration by a Melford-accompanied Laubrock on tenor. With the guitarist shredding wildly, the playing grows ever more turbulent and chaotic until the fire cools and Mok takes over, her turn punctuated with wellsprings of bell strikes, tom-tom flourishes, and bass drum accents. The third bleeds into “Insertion Four,” which opens with the guitarist using effects to generate an intricate tapestry of runs and repeating figures and the others sculpting a sombre expression, Reid's cello sorrowful and the others lyrical. In one of the album's more surprising moves, the fifth piece gravitates in the direction of swing, its Latin-tinged rhythms infectious and the playing almost funky.

December 2023