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It seems fitting that drummer/LP artist Ignacio Berroa should
be the one to decode the mysteries. After all, he seems to be everywhere today,
experiencing something of a rebirth, performing in a variety of ensembles including
his own. In fact, following a recent performance at a jazz festival backing
Gonzalo Rubalcaba, who appears on this album, the Montreal French language
newspaper La Presse referred to the drummer in glowing terms for his ability
to negotiate complex material. Gonzalo, it seemed to them, held the key to
the various "codes".
Decoding-explaining the codes-seems to come naturally for Ignacio, who has conducted a deep exploration of various jazz-related styles during his career. Born in Cuba, he had that country's code, which we call the clave, engrained. Then he moved on, recording with seminal units such as Batacumbele, exploring clave usages and other codes. Which brings us to the current album and one that explores the various stylistic threads-Latin, Latin jazz, Brazilian, Afro-Cuban, funk, traditional jazz, and so on-that intermingle in modern American jazz. While this album is a uniquely personal expression, it holds promise for any fan of sincere, well-crafted music. It's certainly not smooth jazz-but it'll soothe in its own way, as we will see.
The line up includes Rubalcaba on keyboards, David Sanchez and Felipe LaMoglia on saxes, John Patitucci on acoustic bass, Ed Simon on acoustic piano, and also Armando Gola on electric bass. Special guest status goes to another LP artist Giovanni Hidalgo, a longtime collaborator with Ignacio.
The first track is a cover of a Chick Corea tune, "Matrix", which sees the band roaming from a damn near indecipherable time signature at the outset to a nimble Patitucci solo, and then going into an up tempo straight ahead jazz progression. Berroa is like liquid, his time sense exquisite, his phrasing exciting, and his sound crisp. He surprises by flipping over into Afro 6/8 but keeps the jazz underpinning going for the soloists. Drop the needle around 5:40 and you will hear Berroa deconstructing the bop chorus into an Afro-Cuban one, soloing freely.
The second tune is penned by Ignacio himself. "Joao Su Merced" begins with another Afro 6/8 that is many miles distant from the previous. Ignacio launches into a vocal rap, in which he cites musical influences in Yoruba and Spanish names, including Mario Bauza, and then segues to a number of provocative changes, introduced by a bop vamp. Smack at 3:00 we have a signature Ignacio Berroa on drumkit, keeping quarter notes on a sparkling ride cymbal while melding four and Afro-six with the rest of kit. This is, of course, one of the essential codes to properly executing Latin-jazz on drumset. There is a distinct lack of apologetic solos that might ease you through freeway traffic. The sax solo at 6:40 and thereabouts is, in fact, the traffic on the 405!
Pause for Observation: When you consider the number of LP percussion instruments wailing on this album, starting with Giovanni's trademark congas and going down a list of instruments brought by percussive guest artists, you know that nine out of ten mix engineers will blow it; they will turn the result into a clattering street party. Not so with the combo of Jay Newman/Edito Martinez. They've maintained sonic space for each instrument and, in doing so, preserved the respective "codes". Nowhere is this more apparent than in the quiet interlude in "LA Comparsa" (at roughly 2:49), wherein you can actually hear the sub-low overtones of Ignacio's flat ride (a bell-less ride cymbal) against the acoustic piano and sparse percussion. This is no mean feat! Again, it's that non-ear fatiguing soothe that doesn't, fortunately, add up to "smooth".
In "Partido Alto", the title of which refers to a Brazilian samba derivation, the opening is pure joy: dancing cymbal, lilting sax lines, jungle squeaks from the reeds-but, curiously, no well-defined partido alto rhythm in sight. The energy heightens and cascades to the sharp ensemble stop which terminates the tune.
"Realidad Y Fantasia" opens with a piano solo, which yields to smoky sax and brushes on snare. The rapport between piano and drumset is firmly established around 3:00, with both communicating almost playfully. By 4:10 Ignacio has gone to sticks and picks up the mood. He's obviously at home with slow tempos and dances between the literal quarter note and a double-time feel.
On to the Wayne Shorter classic "Pinnochio", which is pure adrenaline from the get-go. Ignacio's bass drum (as throughout this album), tuned low and dry, is solid and unwavering as it joins the electric bass for tight punches under the piano. LP artist Tomisito Cruz plays wicked congas grooves are equally unremitting in their onslaught. Be easy on yourself if you fail to identify this tune in the first sixty seconds; no question, these guys are playing with your perceptions. When the sax, however, winds up for the head (just prior to the 2:00 mark), you will recognize the familiar melody that goes back to the sixties and the days of the Miles quintet.
The Dizzy tune "Woody 'N' You" is next, beginning with a business-like Afro-Cuban 6/8 vamp, punctuated by sharp stops against the familiar melody stated by sax. At the end of the first long phrase, Ignacio tosses off a little vaudevillian device, a simple grab of the crash cymbal, that perfectly terminates the musical passage. All in all, it's hard to tell if this tune is more effective than the Shorter, as it dances between six eighth notes and four quarters and the solos get ever-friskier, but it's equally an eye opener. Ignacio is great on break-neck tempos and is obviously a master of mood shifts, leaving no section without proper introduction. There's not a spec of uncertainty herein. If the jazz mags don't give Codes at least four stars, the jury of listeners will! (Modern Drummer gave 4-1/2 stars!)
More decoding the traditions, right to the last tune, a gentle Jobim: "Inutil Paissagem" (useless landscapes). Okay, so maybe this one would qualify for smooth jazz radio-but that's not the intention. It's obviously a sign of reverence for the bossa master. Thus far, we've spent words giving drummer and percussionists their due but, really, you must check out Patitucci's upright bass solo at 2:16. Recorded impeccably, it speaks to us in the absence of vocals, in gentle and probing tones. This is sheer brilliance, couched in a gentle bossa.
Ignacio Berroa's Codes is an album of complementary musics that goes deep into the various essences, making no sacrifices along the way, the least of them commercial. This could be a blessing or a curse come Grammy time. I'll predict a blessing.
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