JC Sanford Quartet: Keratoconus
Shifting Paradigm Records

Levity is far too seldom encountered on a release, jazz or otherwise, which makes JC Sanford's Keratoconus an all the more appealing proposition. It's not all fun and games, however: the Minnesota native smartly balances that spirit with musicianship of a high order on this quartet outing featuring the trombonist alongside guitarist Zacc Harris and the Bates brothers, Chris on bass and JT on drums. While hearing Sanford play in a quartet setting is a selling-point, the recording's directness and the stylistic variety of its eight tracks add to the album's appeal. Previous releases have seen him fronting the chamber jazz group Triocracy and the JC Sanford Orchestra, the latter's debut set Views from the Inside sounding as fine today as it did upon its 2014 release. When not fronting his own bands, Sanford, a Bob Brookmeyer protégé, conducts those of others, including the John Hollenbeck Large Ensemble and the Alice Coltrane Orchestra, and plays in a number of other artists' groups, too.

Things change dramatically from track to track, with the leader's trombone the primary connecting thread and Harris close behind. The Bates prove themselves ever capable of adapting to changing weather patterns, rocking out like basement teenagers in one track before navigating through a ballad with finesse moments later. The contrasting timbres of the front-line instruments makes for engaging listening, especially when Harris embellishes the material artfully.

As if to accentuate the stylistic range covered, Sanford opens the set with two wildly contrasting pieces, the title track a tight, rock'n'roll burner and the second a sultry romantic ballad. Powered by a grinding ‘bone riff, “Keratoconus” roars with punk abandon for a fleeting minute-and-a-half. Drums flail and bass lines rumble as Sanford and Harris align for unison voicings of the ostinato theme, the whole roiling like some overdriven machine. After that throat-clearer, “Umm, Yeah” at first sounds like the work of an entirely different unit, so delicately handled is its arrangement. The leader's entrance a minute into the performance instantly establishes a through-line from the opener to the ballad, which derives a great deal of its allure from its Latin-tinged pulse, strong solos by Harris, Sanford, and Chris, and the high calibre of group interplay. In keeping with the music's languorous feel, the tune lasts almost ten minutes, the track time allowing the musicians the luxury of patient exploration. As a title, “Umm, Yeah” seems throwaway; the performance isn't.

A template of sorts established, the remaining tracks range between further exercises in balladry and lightheartedness. The title makes it clear which camp “Bates Brothers Boy Band” falls into, and sure enough the piece rocks, if less furiously than the opener. With the Bates laying down a punchy groove, Sanford contributes breezy melodic statements and a growling solo, the humour in this case a drum spotlight that's purposefully clumsy (I'm presuming) in spots. A ballad exercise showing marked attention to texture, “Robins in Snow” is as evocative as its title, whereas “JT Rex” sees a repeating phrase by the drummer's partners acting as an anchor for exuberant soloing by JT—until, that is, an outro arrives that burns with the intensity of John Zorn's Naked City. Similar in unhinged spirit to the opener, “Selfish Shellfish” structurally roots itself in the titular tongue-twister, the musicians not only wrestling with its quirky challenges instrumentally but vocally, too. Hearing the four tripping over “Selfish Shellfish” repeatedly makes for a wacky exit but one that'll likely put a smile on your face.

January 2020