Groundbreaking cornetist, composer, improviser, and bandleader Rob Mazurek is busy amassing one of the most impressive discographies of the 21st century, and a main thread in that value belongs to his consistently evolving Exploding Star Orchestra. Galactic Parables: Volume 1 is an expansive, beautifully designed 2CD/3LP set marking the Orchestra’s 10th anniversary and corralling a pair of live performances of the titular science-fictive suite. In detailing the boldness of Mazurek’s vision it’s likely his best to date; it’s out now on Cuneiform Records.
As many of last century’s noteworthy artists reach their autumnal years, the flow of announcements and obits of their passing has increased in frequency; last week we lost one of the very greatest in the Texas-born sax-theorist Ornette Coleman. Obviously, it can be easy to lose track and not properly absorb individual significance as these notices pile up.
On the other hand, a person can become overwhelmed with the belief of golden days slipping away and therefore neglect to keep tabs on contemporary strides in respective fields. In a fit of frustration or bout of depression, a mind might declare a once esteemed genre as effectively dead; this is a regular occurrence in jazz, an art form that’s contended with accusations of decline since the 1930s, if not earlier.
Rob Mazurek undercuts the notion of jazz’s expiration by working so diligently he makes busy musicians look like a bunch of lazy shits. He emerged in the mid-‘90s, first as leader and shortly thereafter as founder of the Chicago Underground Collective with guitarist Jeff Parker and drummer Chad Taylor, an entity debuting on record as an Orchestra but more common in Duo and Trio configurations that stretched into the current decade.
Additionally, Mazurek’s issued a ton of stuff and in a wide variety of contexts: as member of Chi Underground/Tortoise-satellite act Isotope 217, in the trio Tigersmilk, collaborating with Pharoah Sanders for two albums as Pharoah and the Underground, forming São Paulo Underground while living in Brazil from 2000-2005, and maintaining his Pulsar Quartet, a Quintet, the sextets Mandarin Movie and Black Cube SP, and most relevant to this review, the Exploding Star Orchestra.
They cut two discs for Thrill Jockey, ‘07’s We Are All From Somewhere Else and the following year’s excellent collab Bill Dixon and the Exploding Star Orchestra; the latter record combines quite well with ‘67’s Intents and Purposes, the Bill Dixon Orchestra’s mandatory LP of the New Thing for RCA, and highlights the late trumpeter-composer as a mentor of sorts for Mazurek.
The cornetist also spent time absorbing ideas from Art Farmer, an important trumpeter-flugelhornist-bandleader with ties to advanced bop and large group scenarios; this relationship further emphasizes a main tenet of Mazurek’s success as a groundbreaker; the only way to Make It New is to gather knowledge from and appreciation of the Old.
Galactic Parables: Volume 1 touches deeply on Sun Ra and substantially connects with the artistry of Coltrane, Miles Davis, the AACM and its offspring The Art Ensemble of Chicago, but Mazurek and his band aren’t a blatant carbon copy, a dodgy homage or an underwhelming reconfiguration of any of those predecessors. This is nicely elucidated upon in the record’s glorious triple-gatefold sleeve by the late poet, playwright, music scribe, and jazz advocate Amiri Baraka.
Dedicated to Baraka’s memory, Galactic Parables is part of an epic science-fiction opera inspired by highly respected novelists Samuel R. Delany (his Dhalgren is a true mindbender) and Stanisław Lem (prolific Russian master probably best known today for Solaris, famously adapted to film by Andrei Tarkovsky and later Steven Soderbergh).
Exploding Star’s discography also includes ‘10’s Stars Have Shapes for Delmark and ‘13’s 2CD collab with Roscoe Mitchell Matter Anti-Matter for Rogueart; the same year the Exploding Star Electro Acoustic Ensemble offered The Space Between for Delmark as the Orchestra premiered Galactic Parables on August 28th at the Sant’Anna Arresi Jazz Festival (commissioners of the work) in Sardegna, Italy.
Clocking in at a hair over an hour, the Italian performance is captured in a vivid recording, and while Mazurek’s cornet has often benefited from electronic filtering (another similarity to Dixon) his playing here is essentially untreated. But don’t think the element has been put aside, as three members are credited with electronics: Mazurek, Damon Locks, and São Paulo Underground cohort Mauricio Takara (who contributes cavaquinho and percussion); São Paulo’s Guilherme Granado is responsible for sampler and synth (along with keyboard and voice).
Locks’ recitation begins “Free Agents of Sound,” his text intermingled with electro textures and actual vocal snippets of Sun Ra. The edgy tone is ably intensified and gets submerged in rising horn swells, the vigorous dual drums of Taylor and John Herndon, and a dose of brass shrapnel from Mazurek. The 20 minute opener does relax somewhat, making room for Matthew Bauder’s clarinet and Parker’s guitar, his solo increasingly enveloped in electro facets.
Mazurek, pianist Angelica Sanchez, the four drumsticks, and bass guitarist Matthew Lux are all given moments to shine from within the whole. I especially like the bed of electronics underneath Bauder’s tenor as the piece transitions into “Make Way to the City / The Arc of Slavery #72,” a 19 minute section presenting a superb showcase for Sanchez as the Orchestra lays-out; through her movements she’s met by Taylor and then Mazurek as fingers get wooly with the knobs.
“The Arc of Slavery #72 Part 2” features terrific Mazurek-led ensemble play recalling fusion-era Miles and various traits of the Arkestra as the electronics bring a substantial thread of uniqueness to the suite; never gimmicky, the electro characteristics are legitimately expressive. They divert into a crafty patch of Windy City collective abstraction followed by high rhythmic thunder and a piano-driven theme underneath as Lux’s rhythm sounds good.
It’s in the segue to “Helmets of Our Poisonous Thoughts #16 / Awaken the World #41” that Locks’ writing-reading is established as an utter positive; he attains an impassioned level without succumbing to hammy pseudo-Beat-isms or blustery poetry slam shenanigans, his lines (reproduced in the packaging) giving way to outstanding explorations of reed and valve. As the intensity plateaus Locks returns, a line of his speech repeated and then speed-manipulated until it moves like a lude-stricken snail.
The cerebral groove of “Collections of Time” underscores Mazurek’s savvy adjustment of the suite in relation to the players he has on hand; along the way everybody steps aside for Mazurek’s adroit solo. Sanchez is the first to reenter for a succinct dialogue, and as the prior theme is restated it meshes splendidly with Locks’ singing at the close.
A smidge less than two months later the Orchestra unveiled Galactic Parables at the Chicago Cultural Center; Taylor, Takara, and Granado were out, flautist, frequent Mazurek collaborator and solo artist of distinction Nicole Mitchell was in. Totaling nearly an hour, the recording is less sonically crisp (the Sant’Anna set was broadcast over radio); it’s perhaps reminiscent of certain Arkestra releases on the Saturn label, though I don’t suspect deliberately so.
It instills an eerie quality and easily vindicates the decision to include both performances; Locks drops out as the focus lands on Mitchell’s flute, Parker’s typically intelligent construction, and a fine muted passage from Mazurek. For the Chicago date “Collections of Time” moves forward in the order, but while surely distinct the whole isn’t radically dissimilar in terms of progression and emotional heft.
“Make Way to the City” wields Mitchell’s exceptionally robust improvising (on a finesse instrument) as Herndon crashes behind her and as the Orchestra lays-out once more a moment of true solo expression. A short bit of Parker precedes a forceful rise of Fire Music-descended group heave, and then Locks is back in the spotlight. Sanchez moves briskly into angularity before entering into discussion with Mazurek.
Noticeably rougher around the edges is “The Arc of Slavery #72,” the electronics rawer and the guitar looser and more clamorous, though it stops with almost R&B-like precision. “Helmets to Our Poisonous Thoughts #16” sees the Saturn-aura resurfacing amid a Modernist piano motif and a rock-hued tear by Parker, the horns detonating around him. “Awaken the World #41,” here a standalone piece, ends the Chicago performance with aplomb.
Due to the amount of material, this edition more than superficially resembles the expanded jazz collections that flooded the market during the compact disc boom; think Miles and Coltrane for starters. A crucial difference; it took decades for those sets to hit the racks and Galactic Parables less than two. Today’s jazz audience might be relatively small, but when a document of this stature arrives so soon after the music’s conception, it’s safe to describe the form as being in sturdy health.
We can either allow the constant stream of departed greats to burden us or we can reflect, accept and then lend our ears to the present, the better to adequately prepare for the developments of the future. That’s what Baraka did; in turn he was knocked-out by collective expression that briefly but fervently illuminated the Italian night. Galactic Parables: Volume 1 shares it with the world; Rob Mazurek and the Exploding Star Orchestra reside at the apex of what’s happening musically right now.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A+
