Aaron Parks Little Big II: Dreams of a Mechanical Man
Ropeadope

Scan Aaron Parks's CV and the impression that'll likely form is of a first-call jazz pianist who's worked with key figures such as Terri Lyne Carrington, Terence Blanchard, Ambrose Akinmusire, and Billy Hart. Solidifying that jazz cred even more, Parks has issued his own albums on Blue Note and ECM and partners with Joshua Redman, Matt Penman, and Eric Harland in the group James Farm. All of which makes his Little Big quartet a particularly interesting project, given how often the playing ventures into non-jazz zones on Dreams of a Mechanical Man. For sure, improvisation is present—two of its pieces are, in fact, improvs—and soloing is abundant, too. Yet so many elements have been integrated into the band's playing that its music transcends single-genre categorization. Furthermore, anyone looking for a traditional swing pattern will do so in vain, as the grooves etched by Parks, guitarist Greg Tuohey, bassist David Ginyard, and drummer Tommy Crane are as close in spirit to rock and hip-hop as they are jazz.

All four members are proficient players, but it's the group sound that's key. The synergy that the album so powerfully captures is in part attributable to two years of touring that followed the group's debut release. In Parks's own words, the new set, recorded in December 2019 in Brooklyn, sees the band operating “as a single organism” and “captures the chemistry we've developed on the road, the way this band feels as it makes music in the moment.” As mentioned, soloing's present, but, performances aside, the major focus on the release is songwriting. The pieces are carefully shaped entities rich in mood and melody, with Parks and Tuohey providing an alluring front-line and the others an inspiring springboard.

The quartet's personality comes through vividly the moment “Attention, Earthlings” initiates the set with a hiccupping drum groove and moody chords; the dramatic scene set, the music gradually swells in intensity, its rise and fall deftly handled by all four. Parks's piano ostinatos are all over the material, but so too are textures by Tuohey and well-timed thrashing by Crane and Ginyard. After that aggressive overture captures one aspect of the band, “Here” presents a gentler side, this one delivered at a slower pace, the groove loping and the melodies lyrical, swooning, and warm. It's in tunes such as this one that the band's artful command of texture and arrangement comes fully to the fore.

“Solace” begins with a refined solo piano statement before venturing into full-group territory, the ensemble giving sensitive voice to a series of melancholy phrasings and intimate interplay that shows Little Big can function excellently as a jazz entity when the material calls for it. With its funky groove and melodic hooks,“Friendo” instantly engages; rather than riding the riff into the ground, however, the band incrementally expands on it by adding tension when a gritty solo by Tuohey's capped by a hypnotically interlocking episode by the front-liners.

Parks openly cited Blonde Redhead, Pat Metheny Group, and Carl Jung as inspirations for “The Shadow & The Self,” and certainly it's possible to hear evidence of the guitarist's influence in its melodic sweetness. When Parks's voice wordlessly intones alongside the guitar during “The Shadow & The Self,” for example, some distant echo of Still Life (Talking) does seem to emerge in Little Big's brooding piece. As ear-catching is “The Ongoing Pulse of Isness,” which follows an intro of chimes and bells with resonant Metheny-like fretwork, sparkling piano, and breezy rhythm playing. Don't mistake such gestures, however, as suggesting Parks doesn't possess his own distinctive voice as a melodist as evidence of it's available throughout.

September 2020