It’s been a while since bassist Stephan Crump left the frequently knotty rhythmic matrices of the Vijay Iyer Trio following a twenty-year association. His output since then has been perhaps more considered than might have been imagined. Over the course of fourteen leadership dates, avoiding the obvious has become a hallmark of his practice, whether that be in the two guitar Rosetta Trio, in duet with Mary Halvorson, or the uncategorizable Planktonic Tales with saxophonist Ingrid Laubrock and pianist Cory Smythe.

Returning to the format in which he first came to prominence, Crump forms one third of the Borderlands Trio, alongside pianist Kris Davis and drummer Eric McPherson. The threesome reunites for its third release Rewilder, a double album of eight spontaneously generated pieces. Like its predecessors, it hovers between introspection and exuberance, with a tendency for the former which lends all the more weight to the latter when it arrives. A notably egalitarian outfit, the modus operandi is one of conversational flow in which everyone has their say, regularly starting spaciously with a keen consideration of detail and placement, maintained even as the density increases.

Often the temptation is for the attention to follow the harmonic instrument in a piano trio, and there are undoubtedly spots here where a superlative operator like Davis grabs the ears. But she frequently undercuts that inclination with preparations which emphasize her keyboard’s percussive nature, evoking steel pans, thumb pianos, and gamelan orchestra. Such tactics gel winningly with McPherson’s rhythmic fragments and isolated drum textures, which he deploys with the sensitivity whetted during his sojourns with Andrew Hill and Fred Hersch. But interestingly in this unfettered context they assume a stark abstract dimension. Davis is also especially effective when she juxtaposes altered notes in one hand against untreated figures in the other, suggesting two separate, though telepathically linked, performers. Elsewhere her minimalist-variation-meets-sparkling-invention runs of clipped notes catch on reiterated figures, to variously build either tension or hypnotic meditation. Such is her skill that at times they coalesce into a hyper-speed blur which sounds like the pianistic equivalent of Evan Parker’s circular breathing.

With three such structure-loving improvisers, there’s always a cohesion to the on-the-fly negotiations, even on the more expansive cuts where focus organically pinballs around the group: Crump’s sturdy boned melodicism foregrounded one moment, Davis’ Cecil Taylor-like kernels the next. While some of the shorter selections mine a specific mood, such as the soothingly harmonious “Axolotl,” where the bassist’s bowing recalls Bach’s Cello Suites in its formal elegance, it is the long form pieces containing space to evolve that are a particular highlight. “Monotreme” and “Tree Shrimp,” which merge into one near half an hour extravaganza, pivot on a passage of playful off-the-cuff syncopation, and a terrific solo from McPherson in which the echoing and receding beats invoke dub reggae. “Echidna” presents a series of suitably spiky exchanges, while the final “Commerce Sunrise” conjures a loose groove, fueled by Crump’s impromptu riff, and some of Davis’ most rootsy work. Remarkably as Crump reveals in the liners, they went into the studio for half a day and everything they recorded is released. All hits. No misses.

Crump helms a stellar chamber sextet on Slow Water, a contemplative collection inspired by Erica Gies’ eye-opening yet hopeful polemic Water Always Wins. It comprises a dozen tracks which alternate between the leader’s through-composed charts and shorter more amorphous numbers, credited to Stephan Crump with the ensemble. While there is no further clarification, among the liner photos is a handwritten sheet which says: “Tune idea – breathe together as one giant multifaceted organism,” and there are at least a couple of pieces which might be the realization of this gambit of directed improvisation. It affirms that Crump’s conception informs the program, whether notation is involved or not.

To make his vision reality he has assembled a cast of adventurous NYC stalwarts who between them straddle the contemporary classical, jazz and improv scenes. The rich instrumental palette, two brass, three strings, and vibes, gives the opportunity for multiple lines, counter melodies, and varied combinations, pitching brass against strings for example in “Eager” and “Dusk Critters.” Crump avoids the limelight, sharing timekeeping duties when required with vibraphonist Patricia Brennan, though it is particularly the bassist who anchors the ensemble. Although this is primarily an ensemble music, trombonist Jacob Garchik and trumpeter Kenny Warren briefly flare in “Bogged,” though more often the individual contributions braid and fuse together. Notable among the many permutations Crump draws out from his crew is the lovely ...

EIN FLÜGEL, EIN KONTRABASS, ein Schlagzeugset - die

mit Abstand häufigste Instrumentenkombination im Jazz.
Oscar Peterson und Bill Evans haben dafür jahrzehntelang als Vorbild dienende Spielschulen etabliert, ehe e.s.t. und The Bad Plus zu Beginn des 21. Jahrhunderts unter Beibehaltung des Mar-kenkerns das poppig-publikumswirksame Klaviertrio 2.0 erfanden.
Dazwischen ist viel passiert, zumeist aber doch das Erwartbare:
Ein Tastenvirtuose wird in der Hervorhebung seiner Fähigkeiten von harmonisch und rhythmisch versierten Zuträgern an Bass und Drums wirkungsvoll unterstützt, die als Gegenleistung ihrerseits gelegentliche Solospots erhalten, um sich ihren Szenen-applaus abzuholen.
Sehr selten findet sich in dieser Konstellation ein Dreier zu-sammen, der das Format gänzlich anders angeht. Wie das Bor-derlands Trio. Die kanadische Pianistin Kris Davis, der amerikanische Bassist Stephan Crump, der den Anstoß dazu gab, und dessen Landsmann, der Schlagzeuger Eric McPherson, gehen ohne jegliche Absprachen auf die Bühne und ins Studio. Klar, das ist für sich genommen noch genauso wenig originell - weil standardisierte Praxis in der Free Improv-Szene - wie der bei »klas-sischen« Pianotrios übliche Mix aus Eigenkompositionen und Standardbearbeitungen. Das Borderlands Trio klingt indes verblüffend hierarchiefrei, verwirklicht ein von traditionellen Rollenerwartungen ans jeweilige Instrument losgelöstes, wirklich gleichberechtigtes Musizieren, das scheinbar mühelos ein stufenlos regulierbares Dynamikspektrum durchmisst, das von
»zart-fragil« bis »hochenergetisch« reicht. Wobei man Ersteres so wenig mit unsicherem Tasten verwechseln sollte wie Letzteres mit jenem sattsam bekannten lautstarken Aktionismus, bei dem sich die Spieler gegenseitig neutralisieren. Wer sich in die bislang drei von Intakt Records veröffentlichten Tonträger vertieft oder das Glück hatte, dieses Trio schon einmal live zu erleben, kommt nicht umhin, über die ungewöhnliche Chemie zwischen diesen drei Musikern zu staunen, diese anscheinend unfehlbare Intui-tion, mit der sie ohne stabilisierendes Regelwerk aufeinander zugehen und dabei Konventionen und Klischees ihrer Besetzung umspielen. Ja, das swingt schon auch mal, aber nie in der entspannten Autopilot-Variante für die Fußwipper-Fraktion. Ja, das entwickelt oft einen soghaften Groove, aber nie in Form eines bequem-öden Backbeat. Und ja, das steigert sich auch gelegentlich in ein von allen tonalen Bindungen losgelöstes Furioso, aber nie in den selbstgefällig-selbstvergessenen Exzess. Der Prozess-charakter der Musik ist offensichtlich, aber die Faszination rührt vor allem daher, mit welch bezwingender Logik sich die musikalischen Entwicklungen in Echtzeit vollziehen, als steuere ein Gehirn gleichzeitig drei verschiedene Instrumente an. Fragen wir also die Musiker selbst nach den Gründen für dieses kommunikative wie künstlerische Unikat, jeweils in Form eines individuellen Fragebogens per E-Mail. Stephan Crump und Kris Davis antworten sehr ausführlich, während Eric McPherson ein paar pointierte Einzeiler beisteuert.
Wie kam es zur Entstehung des Trios und warum brauchte es dafür nicht einfach eine exzellente Pianistin und einen außergewöhnlichen Schlagzeuger, sondern Kris Davis und Eric McPher-son? Crump: »Ich bekam Kris' Soloalbum ›Aeriol Piano‹ und war begeistert von der Bandbreite und Unerschrockenheit ihrer Kre-ativität, ihrer klanglichen Abenteuerlust, mit der sie das Klavier präpariert, und ihrem Engagement für den Groove. Ich nahm Kontakt zu ihr auf, und wir trafen uns eines Nachmittags, um im Duo Musik zu machen, und die Chemie stimmte sofort. Ich schlug einen Trio-Auftritt im Korzo in Brooklyn vor, das mehrere Jahre lang eine Dienstagabend-Reihe veranstaltete, die ein großartiger Inkubator für neue Projekte war. Das war 2016, glaube ich. Ich hatte Eric im Sinn und Kris war natürlich mit dem Vorschlag einverstanden. Eric ist einer meiner Lieblingsmusiker und bewegt sich als Schlagzeuger in seiner eigenen Sphäre. Ich möchte nur drei Aspekte hervorheben. Einer ist die Breite seiner Wahrnehmung der Musik und seiner möglichen Rollen darin. Er spielt nicht einfach, er komponiert und orchestriert. Und er tut dies mit einem extrem breiten dynamischen Spektrum, aber immer aus dem Ensemble heraus. Meiner Erfahrung nach ist es für die meisten Schlagzeuger extrem schwierig, Energie und Groove in einem breiten Dynamikbereich zu erzeugen, vor allem in den unteren Bereichen. Selbst bei großartigen Schlagzeugern besteht die Ten-denz, zu viel zu spielen, sobald die Dinge ein bestimmtes Ener-gielevel erreichen. Eric ist in der Lage, diese Energie zu erzeugen und gleichzeitig seinen Partnern immer Raum zu lassen. Apropos Energie: Unabhängig von der Dynamik und dem, was in der Musik passiert, erzeugt Eric immer ein starkes magnetisches Feld.
Mit anderen Worten, es groovt immer. Und doch ist es nie starr oder festgefahren. Er schafft es, kraftvoll und klar zu grooven und dabei immer in einem Zustand der Entwi...

Che meraviglia la musica del Borderland Trio, tre nomi di grande caratura come Eric McPherson alla batteria, Stephan Crump al contrabbasso, Kris Davis al piano: il titolo del progetto è rispettato in pieno, perché sono tutte «terre di confine» quelle sfiorate in campiture imperiose o sognanti (a volte tutte e due le dimensioni assieme). Metalli tintinnanti, grumi di note a galleggiare in un vuoto limbico dal piano riprese e rilanciate dal basso, echi di gamelan, un inquieto «recercare», pura bellezza.

Nach "Asteroida" (2017), "Wandersphere" (I und Il, 2021) beglückt uns dieses so wunderliche wie wundersame Trio erneut mit einem faszinieren-den Doppelalbum. Seine auf der Jazztradition basierende Musik fesselt vom ersten bis zum letzten Ton. Ob sich Kris Davis, Stephan Crump und Eric McPherson einem dichten, quirlig swin-genden Drive hingeben, eine Fülle an Einfällen, Aktionen und Reaktionen entwickeln oder sich in wenigen Sequenzen der Kontemplation, Zart-heit, Nuancen und Stille hingeben, stets bleiben sie sich in einer intensiven, magisch anmutenden Chemie, ihrem "feu sacré", einer gemeinsamen Metaebene verbunden.
Ihr "freier" und auch rhythmisch überzeugender Jazz entsteht vollkommen aus der Spontaneität des Augenblicks, ergibt jedoch absolut schlüs-sige Stücke, die so selbstverständlich wie - so-wohl im Wort- als auch übertragenem Sinn - ver-sponnen, die verzahnt und verwoben, die so kon-zipiert wirken, dass kaum zu glauben ist, dass ih-nen nicht einmal kleine Absprachen, geschwei-ge denn Notiertes zugrunde liegen. Die insge-samt acht Tracks der gleichberechtigt agierenden Grössen überzeugen sowohl rhythmisch und
musikalisch, aber auch in ihrem Aufbau und der Logik, in der sie sich jeweils entwickeln und en-den.
Mit "Rewilder" gelingt dem Borderlands Trio ein weiterer schöner Beweis, der zeigt, wie aller Staub der Geschichte, der bei durchschnittli-chem Niveau auf dem klassischen Jazzformat lie-gen mag, auf originelle und faszinierende Art wegzupusten ist.

Lange galt in der frei improVisierten Musik ein ungeschriebenes Diktat zur Wucht und Rasanz. In die Reihe je-ner, die in der Entschleuni-gung den Zauber der Tiefenwirkung erkennen, stellt sich auch das New Yorker Border-lands Trio. Leader Stephan Crump am Bass, Pianistin Kris Davis und Drummer Eric McPherson schnappen sich luftige Melodien oder Rhythmen aus dem Zeitenlauf und verdichten sie in behutsamem Teamwork. Die Wirkung: in-tensiv.

Das Borderlands Trio ist eben kein „Kla-viertrio"! Die großartige Pianistin Kris Davis ist zwar das Zentralgestirn, aber Bassist Stephan Crump und Schlagzeuger Eric McPherson kreisen auf gleichem Orbit. Die Musik in diesem Sonnensystem ist vollständig improvisiert - und darin liegt eine sonderbar heilende Kraft. Kris Davis lässt ihren Partnern jedmögliche Freiheit und infolgedessen entwickelt jeder Song seinen eigenen Charakter. Während also die Pianistin die wiederholte Phrase findet, die als melodischer Faden für das sanft hüpfende „Axolotyl" dient, arbeiten Crump und McPherson z. B. auf „Monotreme" an einem geschmeidigen Groove, den Davis dann steuert und dabei ihre eigenen Wege findet. Dabei verändern Bassist und Schlagzeuger im Verlauf des über achtzehn Minuten langen Stücks kunstvoll sowohl Tempo als auch Rhythmus. Diese Band kennt keine Hast. Entwicklungen bauen sich behutsam auf, Sounds wechseln langsam, verdichten sich. Diese Musik nimmt sich viel Zeit, um die subtilen Nuancen eines geduldigen und großzügigen musikalischen Trialogs zu erkunden. Und während die meiste Musik auf Rewilder in einem zurückhaltenden, sanften Temperament bleibt, zeugen Davis Eruptionen auf „Monotreme" von Adrenalin, angetrieben von der Ener-gie, die ihre Kollegen erzeugen. Die Magie der Borderländer beruht auf Ver-trauen, Respekt und Empathie. Eigen-schaften, die man in diesen unübersichtlichen Zeiten nicht genug zu schätzen vermag.

Calling the Borderlands Trio a “piano trio” doesn’t quite do justice to the marvels that are found on the group’s scintillating recordings. Pianist Kris Davis, bassist Stephan Crump and drummer Eric McPherson are masters of their respective instruments, and they gel with the kind of cohesion one expects from longstanding acquaintanceship, but their music is also completely improvised—and therein lies the particular magic of Rewilder. Like the trio’s preceding releases, Asteroidea (Intakt, 2017) and Wandersphere (Intakt, 2021), this one revels in the process of spontaneous creation. And just as those previous efforts were not only adventurously unpredictable but also both accessible and inviting, Rewilder is one of the most engaging albums of free improvisation one is likely to encounter.

In case one has any doubts about the music being completely unpremeditated (and after listening to the album, they are likely), Crump explains in the liner notes that the trio convened for the one-day recording session, “played for an hour or two, then had lunch, and then came back. We played for exactly how long the record is.” Now such a description could probably apply to lots of freely improvised recordings; but what separates this one from run-of-the-mill free encounters is just how well-organized it is. There is a structure to these pieces, even if that structure is arrived at collectively and extemporaneously. Surely the players’ long-standing familiarity plays a role here, as do their superb listening instincts. But no matter the secret formula, one cannot deny the remarkable alchemy that takes place on these eight capacious tracks.

Crump and McPherson provide the pivotal axis on which the trio turns, given that so much of the group’s modus operandi involves finding catchy grooves to explore. After the opening moments of “Cyclops Mountain,” where all three musicians are pursuing their individual muses, McPherson and Crump gradually coalesce to form a tentative pulse, with Davis joining them as a nascent foundation is put in place. Davis’s initial meanderings become increasingly focused and expansive, while McPherson and Crump cement the music’s identity with a rhythm that is identifiable, yet just slightly off-center. Other tracks build from Crump ostinatos or arco passages, McPherson’s intuitions allowing him to stay in close rapport while Davis expertly finds moments for her own interjections.

One of the reasons the Borderlands Trio doesn’t fit the “piano trio” caricature is because there really is no lead instrument here; Davis allows her partners to make their contributions on equal terms, and as a result each track develops its own unique momentum, with McPherson or Crump as free to take the lead as Davis. So while the pianist finds the repeated phrase that serves as the melodic thread to the gently bouncing “Axolotyl,” on “Monotreme” Crump and McPherson establish a sinuous groove that Davis then navigates, finding her own pathways as the bassist and drummer deftly alter both tempo and rhythm throughout the track’s eighteen-plus minutes. And while most of the music on Rewilder stays within an understated, gentle temperament, Davis’s animated flights on “Monotreme” are invigorating, fueled by the energy created by her colleagues. Then we have her skilled use of prepared piano on “Tree Shrimp,” where she sounds as though two separate pianists are improvising over McPherson’s reggae-inspired rhythm. Davis’s creativity and virtuosity are as evident here as always, yet without a trace of ostentatiousness.

It's a lot of music to take in, to be sure—over 100 minutes, all told—yet there is an immersive quality to the trio’s explorations. On the back half of the album, Davis’s fondness for minimalist gestures adds to the trancelike aspect of the 23-minute “Lost Species,” once again featuring her prepared piano surging over the tenacious rhythms of Crump and McPherson, while “Echidna” offers a riveting study in texture, Crump’s darting arco sparring with Davis before moving into a walking bass line that somehow ushers the track into a gentle swinging section, only to conclude with Davis at her most extroverted, with tempestuous flurries and shards of notes riding over Crump’s dense arco and McPherson’s subdued support. “Commerce Sunrise” closes the album with the trio at its most accessible, finding a comfortable groove (or two) to sustain Davis’s lambent lyricism. It’s more than enough to satisfy us until the next superlative outing from this formidable group of improvisers.

https://www.freejazzblog.org/2024/07/borderlands-trio-rewilder-intakt.html

"Two" is the thread running through this episode of Mondo Jazz, two albums of rare depth by Stephan Crump, two members of the Koppel family, two remarkable musicians at the center of the new LA scene, Josh Johnson and Julien Knowles, and two trumpet players to keep an eye, and ear, on, Knowles and Tomasz Dabrowski. A set that is pairful and suspenseful!

Happy listening!

https://www.allaboutjazz.com/stephan-crump-josh-johnson-julien-knowles-tomasz-dabrowski-and-more

REWILDER
BORDERLANDS TRIO
STEPHAN CRUMP
KRIS DAVIS
ERIC MCPHERSON
INTAKT
RECORDS
Rewilder
Borderlands Trio (Stephan Crump, Kris Davis,
Eric McPherson) (Intakt)
by Kurt Gottschalk
A notion that might have been suggested in
Wandersphere, the remarkable 2021 release by
Borderlands Trio: Kris Davis (piano), Stephan Crump
(bass) and Eric McPherson (drums), is that their ideas
are too big to be easily contained. The group's chosen
name suggests it-borders stretch for miles and are
both crossed and protected, calling to mind a global
wanderlust. But the biggest clue about this view
was that it took two compact discs on that release to
carry four thoughtful, exploratory tracks that passed
the two-hour mark with six minutes to spare. Their
2017 single-disc debut, Asteroidea, was just a proof of
concept. On Wandersphere, the trio spread their wings,
and the wingspan was not inconsiderable.
The expansiveness is worth noting because the
trio is back with a new set, Rewilder, filling another
pair of CDs (also available as a download but posh
LP sets have not been pressed). The tracks are
shorter this time, ranging from four to 24 minutes,
which is a small shame because each is remarkable
at gradual, groupthink progression, recapitulation
and development. That they do it without discussion
or preparation of material beforehand makes the
effort all the more remarkable. The music is fully
improvised and was laid down in a single session.
Everything that the trio recorded that day is on the
album and the group is a quiet joy to listen to.
What makes the long tracks so great, besides
just the opportunity for blissful indulgence, is that
the trio can lock into sections without defining the
piece. The fixed impromptus are just points along
the border. They're not dominant edifices but they
are what makes listening to the music so absorbing.
The 23-and-a-half minutes of "Lost Species" - the
longest track on the set- is a delirious listen. Davis
flips with ease between wonderfully lyrical soloing
and obsessive, micro-groove repetitions with muted
strings. Crump and McPherson, meanwhile, have
an uncanny way of playing together at altogether
different tempi. Borderlands is a classic piano trio
that can travel for days without circling back or
getting lost.
Rewilder is full of so many small surprises, they
might pass you by if you're not paying close attention.
For more info visit intaktrec.ch. Stephan Crump and Eric
McPherson are at Bar Bayeux Jul. 12. See Calendar.
THE NEW YORK CITY JAZZ RECORD | JULY 2024 27

A few years ago I was asked to write a liner note essay for Wandersphere (Intakt), the second album by Borderlands Trio. I enjoyed Asteroidea, the first album that pianist Kris Davis, drummer Eric McPherson, and bassist Stephan Crump improvised together, but right away I knew that Wandersphere was different; more sustained, instinctual, trusting, exploratory, unafraid. When I interviewed the musicians about the project Crump explained his interest in mycorrhizae, “the fungi that possess a symbiotic relationship with plant life that’s helped ensure the survival of forests for centuries,” as I wrote in the essay. The metaphor makes perfect sense for the way Borderlands Trio operate, creating something collectively that relies upon a simultaneous sort of nurturing: a wide open sonic ecosystem. The four astonishing pieces on that double CD each run between twenty and forty minutes, but I never felt the passage of time when I listened. To me this was freely improvised music of the highest caliber, with three of the greatest players in contemporary post-bop eschewing any given language, brushing away any rules. Instead they listened and built something together.

Wandersphere is a masterpiece, with all three players deploying a huge variety of techniques and gestures according to the spontaneous requirements of what they constructed in real-time. At the time I was especially surprised by the expanded palette of drummer McPherson—one of the best time drummers in jazz, who can make rhythm crackle with mere whispers. He transformed his kit into a kind of mini-gamelan that found common cause with Davis’ adroit piano preparations. The music took me all kinds of places, summoning images and visions in a way that rarely happens for me. I’ve since been able to hear the band live, in Lisbon and Berlin, and not only were they extraordinary, casting the same sort of transcendent spell with the gentlest motions and the most meticulous accents, but each performance sounded totally different. Such unpredictability is a natural upshot of strong improvisation, but over the years I’ve realized even the greatest improvisers can struggle to conjure a new world each time they play. So far Borderlands Trio have achieved that feat, and they’ve done it yet again with its masterful third album Rewilder (Intakt), another double album, featuring music that pushes in yet another new direction.
This time out the connection to post-bop is more explicit. Crump and McPherson play patterns, lines, and grooves more often, the individual pieces are more succinct, generally compacting a couple of ideas into a dense narrative, but it’s no less satisfying than the patient sprawl of Wandershphere. Below you can hear one of the shorter tracks from the new recording, “Axolotl.” There are different kinds of meditative reveries, but in general the pulse is quicker, the textures spikier, and melodies less guarded, as the shifts come faster, even when the music often seems to be floating, as on the remarkable “Monotreme.” You can hear isolated bits of playing that suggest a solo, such as Crump’s tremulous arco improvisation about eleven minutes in, but considering the form of every piece is created on the spot, there’s never any kind of expected round of solos. Instead there’s an endless give-and-take, or, even better, simultaneity, where we can hear three fertile, febrile imaginations achieving balance, forging conflict, or doing both at the same time, somehow. The fact that these players never seem to run out of ideas or lose the thread continues to blow my mind. Even on a piece like “Tree Shrimp,” where McPherson’s fluency with rimshot rhythm brings out a dubby openness, Davis and Crump don’t give into a feel-good reggae jam, instead playing around it plenty of spry energy and lilting motion to create an excellent aural tug-of-war that doesn’t let competition get in the way of agile music-making. Even on a piece like “Lost Species,” a 23-plus minute marvel that opens disc 2, there is a strong rhythmic prerogative as the trio seem to cycle through an endless churn of recalibrations. Nothing ever stays in one place for very long, but there’s no sense of impatience in the air. There are other ways to improvise, but as my interest in the way working units can repeatedly manufacture something so ineffable and moving grows, it’s hard to think of many practitioners I’d rather settle in with.

Crump drew upon another force of nature for his excellent new project Slow Water (Papillon), drawing inspiration from the Erica Gies book Water Always Wins, which lays out the redemptive, healing power of the planet’s waterways and the natural world within which they evolve. It’s the meddling of humanity that **** everything up (this is a very crude reduction of her ideas.) The book gave Crump a sense of hope and trust, and he imagined how those notions could be applied to a new ensemble. The music on Slow Water alternates between through-composed, tender melodic co...