Wako:
Urolige Sinn
Øra Fonogram
Many an album has packed ultra-short songs into its forty-minute (sometimes less) frameworks, The Ramones' debut, Elvis Costello's Get Happy, Eno's Another Green World, and Bowie's Low (the first side) among them. In each case, the brevity of the songs never diminishes the album's impact (e.g., “Over Fire Island” and “Breaking Glass”); on the contrary, it's a key reason for it. Such concision is far rarer in jazz where extended group interplay and individual solo expression are fundamental. That makes Wako's Urolige Sinn (in English, Turbulent Mind) something of an outlier, then, though in the best way imaginable. In this instance, the Norwegian quartet has squeezed thirteen tracks into a svelte, thirty-four-minute frame, but much like those aforementioned examples, Urolige Sinn doesn't suffer as a result; if anything, its material makes a hugely powerful impression when every second counts. Succinct and intensely focused, the performances are marked by extreme compression.
There's a palpable restlessness and adventurousness to Wako on this release, the sound of a unit unsatisfied with following convention and eager to push the quartet concept in new directions. There are solos, but they're to-the-point, executed with minimal fuss and maximum impact. That said, they're also modest in number, Wako instead preferring to focus on the quartet as a fast-moving, ever-mobile entity whose four participants, Martin Myhre Olsen (alto and soprano saxes), Kjetil André Mulelid (piano), Bárður Reinert Polusen (double bass), and Simon Olderskog Albertsen (drums), are more focused on group synergy than individual spotlights. Multiple stylistic pathways and moods are traversed during the set, from funereal meditations to joyous celebrations. Improv-driven explorations alternate with strictly composed material, all of it brought to life by attentive interplay, and some settings exemplify a tight, lockstep approach to rhythm whereas others are rubato-esque. For the record, seven pieces are group compositions while Mulelid and Olsen receive credit for three apiece.
Of particular note is Mulelid's “Skavlet Føre,” which advances from one wave-like surge to the next. Powered by an insistent, cymbals-showered pulse from Polusen and Albertsen and prodded by the pianist's grounding oscillations, the piece grants Olsen a fabulous forum for registers-spanning expression, a rare instance of extended soloing on this ultra-compact set. While formal structure is only hinted at during its tension-building opening minutes, the tune's shape comes into sharp focus when a haunting theme emerges almost three minutes into the performance. In its lulling flow, Mulelid's “En liten halvtime senere” plays a little bit like a slow-motion reimagining of “Skavlet Føre,” even if the tunes' melodic statements are different.
Whereas “Den endeløse planen” is driven by the kind of free-wheeling combustion exemplified by The Art Ensemble of Chicago (though delivered in a two-minute package), “Du gråter aldri,” with Mulelid's piano leading, assumes the form of a searching, introspective ballad. Indicative of the surprising turns the album often takes, “Revelje” first uses Olsen's riffing sax as the grounding element, which allows the other instruments to move unrestrictedly alongside it, before abruptly switching into stop-start bop mode—all of it in less than two minutes. Without straying from one of the most established (within jazz) of instrument combinations, Wako has produced something on Urolige Sinn that feels fresh, bold, and exciting. It's the kind of release that when the initial listen's done, you might want to hear again immediately to try to digest what flew by so quickly the first time around.October 2018