Misha Mullov-Abbado: Effra
Ubuntu Music

In spite of the inherently abstract nature of instrumental music, decisions relating to dynamics, tempo, harmony, and key (major versus minor) enable its practitioners to articulate particular moods with confidence. That's a roundabout way of saying that if the latest album, his fourth as a bandleader, from multi-award-winning double bassist Misha Mullov-Abbado seems to exude affection, gratitude, and joy, it does so by design. Effra is, in essence, a love letter to Brixton, the South London neighbourhood he's called home for over a decade, and the deep connection he has to the place is exemplified in its eight originals, even if the album's variety of moods communicates that feeling in different ways.

Distilled to its essence, Effra is contemporary acoustic jazz of a particularly soulful kind. As always, the players involved are critical to the music's character, and to that end the London-based musicians featured on the release—trumpet and flugelhorn player James Davison, alto saxophonist Matthew Herd, tenor saxophonist and bass clarinetist Sam Rapley, pianist Liam Dunachie, and drummer Scott Chapman—do much to bring the leader's compositions vividly to life. Whether tackling a ballad, Brazilian samba, or New Orleans-styled romp, the sextet invests itself fully into a performance, the result a vibrant expression no matter the style.

Inspired by the bustling rhythms of London's train network, the dynamic opener “Traintracker” lifts the spirits instantly with its funk-blues feel and lustrous horn textures. The leader and Chapman lock into the groove's swing tightly, and the others respond in kind with soulful contributions, Dunachie's solo a rousing statement and the saxophonist's a singing, acrobatic, and blues-tinged affair. Each player's granted a moment in the spotlight without the momentum derailed in the process. Hearing the sextet maneuver through the composition's carefully delineated episodes before collectively wailing in a euphoric climax makes for immensely rewarding listening. Two heartfelt tributes to Mullov-Abbado's marriage follow, the first a breezy ballad, “Bridge,” that calls forth warm contributions from Davison and the saxophonists, the solos by Herd and Rapley embracing and inventive—a classic acoustic jazz ballad Chapman animates with brushes first and sticks second. Sultrier is the second, “Rose,” which builds on Dunachie's pulsing foundation with gentle overlays of purring horns, a unison bass-piano theme, a probing solo reflection by Mullov-Abbado, and, with the tempo accelerating and the music swelling, a sparkling one by the pianist.

With a track so titled, “The Effra Parade” would have to be an uproarious, crowd-pleasing romp, and that it most definitely is. The atmosphere of a street party is evoked in its swinging groove and exuberant horn blaze—the kind of hell-raiser one could easily imagine Wynton Marsalis guesting on. High-energy too is the feverish “Canção De Sobriedade,” where the horns declaim vociferously against a high-velocity samba shuffle. Hard bop and ‘60s jazz are invoked equally by “Subsonic Glow,” which Davison elevates with a thunderous trumpet solo and Dunachie matches thereafter. More through-composed in style is “Red Earth,” a sophisticated, rubato-styled meditation, and the set-ending “Nanban,” which largely dials the intensity down for a dreamily atmospheric meditation that seems purposefully tailored to induce entrancement.

In notes on the inner sleeve, Mullov-Abbado clarifies that Effra “began as the name of a now-underground river that runs through the area and has more recently been used as the name of a main road and two rival pubs, as well as a smaller road which one of the tracks on this album is named after.” Perhaps more critically, the album features music he's written for his band in the last four years, “which has featured a resurgence in my love for both my home and for playing jazz after a difficult period in previous years, and these pieces reflect all the personal journeys in that time.” While no further clarification is provided as to what precisely made that period difficult (though the fact that “Canção De Sobriedade” translates into “Song of Sobriety” might be a clue), the music itself exudes resilience, and reflects a clear-headed sense of purpose. Put simply, Mullov-Abbado sounds as at home in this music as he does in his Brixton neighbourhood.

February 2025