album reviews

ANDREW RATHBUN LARGE ENSEMBLE Atwood Suites

( Origin Records) Soprano and baritone saxophones open “Two Islands I” in a sprightly mien, like an awakening. Luciana Souza sings lines from a Margaret Atwood poem: “I could say it without looking, the animals; the blackened trees, the arrivals; the bodies, words, it goes and goes; I could recite it backwards.” Tim Hagans begins a lovely solo on flügelhorn, kinetically abetted by drummer Bill Stewart, who is a constant but varicolored presence on Andrew Rathbun’s new double- disc album. The tune is the first part of two Rathbun suites set to Atwood’s poetry. The second, “Power Politics,” was performed at New York’s Birdland club featuring flügelhornist Kenny Wheeler early in the 2000s, but was never recorded until now. “Power Politics II” opens with a Jeremy Siskind piano solo, light at first but turning dramatic and increasingly complex. The music builds with multiple horns, subsiding for Souza’s lovely rendering of Atwood images. Then trombones and other deep horns tell new stories, alternating melody and layered polyphony, before the flügelhorn assumes the central role. A delightful cacophony develops before one of the five saxophonists takes the reins. Disc Two offers three movements from another Rathbun suite. It closes with the episodic “II,” built around a vigorous and captivating hook artfully rendered by vocalist Aubrey Johnson, and containing a resolute solo by trombonist Alan Ferber. In the album notes, Rathbun thanks composer and bandleader Maria Schneider for her input on the vivacious and ambitious “Power Politics.” Her presence is indeed felt on this entire wonderful package. — Paul Weideman

JON HOPKINS Singularity (Domino) After years of serving as a studio magician for other artists, Jon Hopkins’ 2013 breakthrough release, Immunity, found him a global audience of his own. After a massive tour, he retreated to the desert to relax — and there, he found spirituality. The title of this follow-up and the names of many of its songs suggest an epiphany related to technology, a rebirth of sorts. The album begins with a barely tolerable burst of noise and sparks, like the Big Bang bringing forth something new. It proceeds to often sound like electricity — as if it were connected directly to the grid. A cackle permeates the album as a throughline, settling into a hum for ambient respites before springing back to life when the drums kick in. Indeed, the crackling sounds are so prevalent that much of the drama comes from their brief absences, with the rhythms growing more robust from the newfound quiet in between the beats. Songs such as “Everything Connected” seem to leave the ground entirely, reaching weightlessly for the stars. And then the album shifts. On “Feel First Life,” Hopkins tinkers with a piano and a celestial-sounding choir, cooling things off considerably. “Echo Dissolve” further distances the space between the notes, giving way to piano-led compositions so intimate and peaceful that you can hear the soft creak of the keys and pedals, until t he album seems ready to dissolve entirely, and singularity is achieved. — Robert Ker