The Angelica Sanchez Nonet Nighttime Creatures
The Angelica Sanchez Nonet
Nighttime Creatures
Pyroclastic
Nighttime Creatures is the debut of rising pianist and composer Angelica Sanchez’s nonet, culled from the ranks of some of the leading lights in the creative music scene. Somehow, we failed to cover her widely hailed 2022 trio album Sparkle Beings with Michael Formanek and Billy Hart, so this coverage becomes almost imperative. That’s due to Sanchez’s unique pianism and her collaborators on this outing – saxophonists Michae͏̈l Attias (alto) and Chris Speed (tenor and clarinet), the seemingly recently ubiquitous Ben Goldberg on contra alto clarinet, Thomas Heberer on quarter-tone trumpet, cornetist Kenny Warren, bassist John Hébert, drummer Sam Ospovat and guitarist Omar Tamez. This unusual but well-targeted, especially in the case of the quarter-tone trumpet and contra alto clarinet, provide the colors and textures of this highly imaginative work, borne in the many pitch-black nights Sanchez spent on walks through the deep woods of upstate New York where she resides in a cabin while holding down her teaching position at Bard College.
Sanchez was struck by how little light there is in these woods at night, causing her auditory sense to be heightened by the sounds of coyotes, squirrels, and unnamed (certainly unseen) creatures. Thus, the album title. The large ensemble traces to her love of big band music although she kept it smaller to allow for more space and individual expression of these gifted players. Her music takes its cues from the likes of Duke Ellington, Carla Bley and the AACM works of Anthony Braxton and Richard Muhal Abrams, yet nine of these eleven are originals, excepting Ellington’s “Lady of the Lavender Mist” and Chilean composer Armando Carvajal’s “Tristeza.”
In our wildest imaginations, it would be difficult to match the array of sounds in the title track replicating those creatures of the dark. It would also serve as a excellent soundtrack for a noir or even a horror movie with the low tones of the woodwinds, the occasional shrieks, the bursts from the brass, and the thumping cadences of the rhythm section suggesting ‘here and gone’ effects. The cinematic hues stretch into “C.B. the Time Traveler,” where Sanchez nods to the concept from Bley coined as “chronotransduction,” admittedly an odd and esoteric term for a jazz opera. Though there are no vocals here, there may as well be with the distinct voices of these instruments, which are as often as dissonant in their blending as they are harmonious. “Wrong Door for Rocket Fuel” is also inspired by Bley’s iconic Escalator Over the Hill, which if unfamiliar with boasts such disparate personnel as Jack Bruce, Linda Ronstadt, Don Cherry, Roswell Rudd, Charlie Haden, Gato Barbieri, Leroy Jenkins, and Paul Motian. These nods to Bley take on extra gravitas with Bley’s recent passing.
“Cloud House” begins somewhat more calmly but even with its floating quality, still bears a jittery and unsettled demeanor as if surprises lurk around each tree or bush that borders the path. Throughout these pieces, Sanchez seems focused on letting her band express themselves as she injects a chord, a flurry of notes, or glissandos, mostly angular in her approach with hints of Monk, Andrew Hill, and even Cecil Taylor. The ensemble moves freely in multiple directions as they weave, dart, crawl, and snake through the busy “Land Here” and the spacious “Ringleader” with fervent and beautifully scattered improvisations. “Big Weirdo” plays out with captivating dramas as if a larger-than-life cat and mouse adventure with stunning contrapuntal passages.
“Astral Light of Alarid” moves ever slightly away from a modern to a traditional harmonious sound as she honors her dad. Yet, a latter section features Sanchez’s free ranging piano stylings as the nonet steps aside as if to grant her a private convivial conversation with her dad. Harmonies sweeten further in Ellington’s deeply melodic “Lady of the Lavender Mist,” where the listener can truly appreciate the ebb and flow of the colorful layers of instrumentation.
The Chilean composer’s “Trizteza” is sourced from a piano study book for children, but Sanchez applies the tense drama that instills so many of these compositions into this one too, making it a rather curious blend of a lullaby and an anxiety-packed almost seven minutes. Closing with “Run,” following the trumpet/cornet intro, the unleashes the fury of the nonet, which gallops unbounded with a couple of slight pauses before drummer Ospovat pushes them harder to the proverbial finish line. Ah, it’s time to take a deep breath and revel in this striking piece of music. Sanchez has stamped herself as a composer and bandleader of the first order.
- Jim Hynes
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