Myra Melford's Snowy Egret: The Other Side of Air
Firehouse 12

Myra Melford has received some extremely flattering critical notices for The Other Side of Air, and it's easy to see why: her Snowy Egret unit (which debuted in 2012) demonstrates a maximum degree of integration in its playing without sacrificing anything in the way of spontaneity. The result is a remarkably homogeneous recording of ten Melford oriignals (one a two-parter) performed by the pianist with cornetist Ron Miles, guitarist Liberty Ellman, bass guitarist Stomu Takeishi, and drummer Tyshawn Sorey. The sophomore effort by the outfit holds up to close scrutiny exceptionally well.

The release is but one more highlight in a career filled with them. Since the late ‘70s, the pianist, composer, and bandleader has played with countless game-changers. Melford issued her debut as a leader in 1990, after which more then twenty releases as a leader or co-leader followed, and in 2013 she was named a Guggenheim Fellow. Blues and bop influences emerge in her compositions but so too do traces of Indian, African, Cuban, and Middle Eastern musics; in 2000 she spent a year in North India on a Fulbright scholarship, which enabled her to deeply absorb the region's many music forms. Given all that, it's natural that the music she creates draws deeply from multiple traditions and ranges from the cerebral to the lyrical.

If there's one reason in particular why The Other Side of Air impresses, it has to do with the ensemble's handling of her material. Snowy Egret is the kind of outfit where everyone's involved, not one where some disengage during another's solo. In this case, the five operate in tandem, each functioning as both foreground and background and equally comfortable in lead and supporting roles. Even framing it in such terms risks misrepresenting the performances when each player is positioned on a continuum between those poles, with movements from one to the other fluidly effected. The impression created is voices conversing in real time and responding intuitively to what's happening in the moment.

Such a characterization also risks misrepresenting The Other Side of Air as an improv-oriented date, which it isn't, even if there's plenty of it. Melford's compositions provide structure and direction and establish mood, and thus function as blueprints the five deploy as points of origin. There are plentiful twists and turns in her pieces, as well as contrasts of dynamics and tempo. And while it's not an in-concert performance, it often feels live.

However tempting it might be to talk about specific tracks, it seems more fitting to discuss the album in its totality when it's the overall group performance that distinguishes it. That said, mention must be made of the ease with which Miles and Ellman inhabit the so-called front-line, not to mention the responsiveness Melford, Takeishi, and Sorey exhibit in their always responsive contributions. None falls into predictable patterns; the latter, for example, never plays a standard beat, opting instead to exploit his kit's potential to its fullest without becoming dominant.

As imperative as the group playing is, the album isn't without memorable solo passages, such as the reflective one Melford delivers to introduce “City of Illusion” before the material assumes a mystery-laden, blues-inflected edge. No one piece towers over the others, but an excellent entry point would be “Attic” when its slinky, Monk-like theme brings out the group's playful side and a quieter sequence amplifies its capacity for sensitive interplay (there's rambunctious free playing, too).

January 2019