Addressing the same problem from different angles, jazz-groove pioneers Medeski
Martin & Wood and funky young bucks Soulive aim to retool the traditional
organ jazz combo for 21st-century audiences on their respective new albums,
Uninvisible and Next, both from Blue Note. One is raucous, dank,
and trashy, the other slick, smooth, and glossy. Two bands. Two organs. Two
very different albums.
But MM&W and Soulive do share more than just a record label. Formed by
conservatory-trained players, both have evolved from more traditional,
bop-accented groups into connect-the-dots fusion bands who draw liberally from
the world of digital beat science. They also share an audience -- the
convergence of rock, jazz, and beat science in the jam-band scene has led to an
explosion of improv-friendly dance-happy fans who expect beats in their jam the
way their forebears counted on acid in the Kool-Aid.
Blame the whole sloppy inter-genre copulation on MM&W. They're the
unofficial kings of this scene, and their early-'90s mix of free-jazz skronk,
ethno-beat frippery, and sticky funk premeditated a scene that hinges on
instrumental grooves. Yet if MM&W are the leaders of the new school, then
Soulive stand at the head of the class. Since the trio formed, in '99, their
jacked-up take on greasy hard-bop boogaloo has garnered them a rabid East Coast
fan base, opening dates for Dave Matthews Band, and some impressive sales
figures for a band on a jazz label.
On Uninvisible, MM&W continue to reign over the sweaty improv-groove
scene, despite an unusual career path whereby they occupy the scene's popular
pinnacle and its artistic fringe at the same time. Beginning with the sticky
grooves, hummable melodies, and clever covers of their breakout disc -- 1993's
It's a Jungle in Here (Gramavision) -- MM&W have pushed and pulled
the organ-jazz concept into new and far-flung artistic crevices. The eventual
endgame of that approach was 2000's The Dropper (Blue Note), a disc of
punk-dub thrash and dirt-caked stomp that was corrosive enough to peel paint
from subway walls.
Stepping back from that chaotic precipice, Uninvisible, the
trio's eighth album, is more accessible and listenable. Picking back up on the
blunted, trip-hop vibe of 1998's Combustication, it finds MM&W
absorbing a style of composition and improvisation that has more to do with DJ
Shadow than with Donald Byrd. Whereas The Dropper found MM&W tearing
apart at the seams, on Uninvisible they fold back onto themselves,
layering simple vamps and atmospheric swells into a minimalist noir funk that's
a masterful display of restraint. Instead of complex chord changes and
belabored melodies, MM&W milk the most out of simple vamps and haunting
four-note melodies. "I Wanna Ride You" is a short flash of bluesy, New Orleans
funk. Elsewhere, the trio explore a gothic minor-key vibe, with tasteful pomo
soundplay added by Kid Koala's buddy DJ P Love and illbient New Yorker DJ
Olive.
There's top-notch playing throughout: John Medeski squeezes both earthy grit
and space-age splatter from his array of keyboards; bassist Chris Wood manages
to be solid and rubbery at the same time; and drummer Billy Martin turns out
inventive, loose-limbed rhythms on every track. But it's the work of
producer/engineer and unofficial fourth member Scotty Hard that makes
Uninvisible a pinnacle of electro-jazz beat science. Slathering the
proceedings with a layer of lo-fi fuzz, Hard creates a gritty, fly-by-night dub
attitude. His manipulation of brassy horn blurts (courtesy of Afro-beat band
Antibalas) and cavernous dub echoes turns "Nocturnal Transmission" into a
King-Tubby-meets-Sun-Ra soundclash in the hereafter. Spooky, menacing, and
somewhat ominous, Uninvisible feels like an unpleasant dream -- it's
hard to shake, and you'll be mulling it over in the morning.
At the other end of the spectrum, Soulive's third album, Next, sounds as
if it had been produced in a million-dollar hip-hop studio. The drums kick hard
and full, the snare cracks with a gated snap, and the bass is impossibly deep.
Initially a rough-edged, neo-trad organ trio, Soulive have evolved into a
slick, four-piece (alto-saxophonist Sam Kininger is the new member) jazz-funk
group with hip-hop aspirations. Out with the dapper matching suits; in with the
urban street wear and goofy hats. Add in cameos by folks like Black Thought of
the Roots, Talib Kweli, and R&B singer Amel Larrieux and Next feels
like a calculated ploy for the Afro-boho nation. But whereas coffeehouse
favorites like D'Angelo and Common boast personality and charisma to spare,
Soulive front smooth-jazz saxophone licks and unremarkable James Brown
knockoffs. Full of solid, if uninspired bebop solos and basic funk grooves
dressed up in shiny Sean John gear, this album is definitely misnomered. They
call it Next, but it sounds like acid-jazz redux to me.
Issue Date: May 3 - 9, 2002
