Sculpting the skronk

Bassist Ben Allison is covering all the bases

by Jim Macnie

On Sunday nights in Manhattan's East Village, Ben Allison leads a band with enough breadth to service all kinds of jazz fans: trad, rad, knowing, thoughtless. People who want to be tickled stand with those who want to be challenged, and both camps get something out of the bassist's work. Allison's Medicine Wheel ensemble keeps all the doors open.

The 32-year-old bassist has intermittently summarized the band's goals from the stage. At a gig last year, the group worked through a piece called "Buzz." It called for a leaflet of sheet music to be braided through the leader's strings, hand gongs to be massaged by percussionist Jeff Ballard, taffy tones to be snapped by cellist Thomas Ulrich, and a homely one-note bleat to be cyclically interjected by saxophonist Ted Nash while his reed associate Michael Blake blew two horns at once.

"We're trying to make our instruments do things they aren't ordinarily supposed to," the leader said, sounding more beneficent than didactic, "You know, kind of recontextualize the sound." The kinetic payoff tipped a hat to Rube Goldberg, with shrewdly aligned snafus yielding ingenious order.

In short, Allison has taken on the task of finding a use for the dissonance and bluster free jazz has coughed up over the last two decades. Sculpting the skronk, the 32-year-old composer bolsters its allure and heightens its impact.He's a melody man, taken with orthodox beauty, but his playful designs find ways for garbling and cooing to share a bunk. Sometimes that means veering out of a galloping ostinato into a calm oasis. It always means enriching the music's dimension.

The band's two records on the Palmetto label, Medicine Wheel and the new Third Eye, wonderfully express said objectives. Avoiding all forms of claustrophobia, the music finds ways to venture toward three or four places at once. Medicine Wheel's "Quirky Dungeon" makes room for an itchy bass figure, a Chutes & Ladders soprano line, and a pastoral cello drone. Yet focus rules: Allison's composites always manage to keep their unifying elements in high relief. The arrangements resonate, not the novelty.

This kind of scope comes from sharing ideas. Allison is a founder of the New York Jazz Composers Collective, a sizable alliance of musicians who play on each others records and gigs. The power-in-numbers concept isn't new, but it's still an effective way to disarm frustration and nurture previously isolated notions.

Allison got the idea when he read a biography of Alban Berg back in '92. It seems Vienna of the early 20th century could be as icy toward original music as New York sometimes is these days. Berg and his contemporaries decided to quell their frustration by formalizing their relationship.

"It was kind of like the first loft scene," Allison offers. "They knew the audience was a bit hazy on what was going down, so they worked together, learned about each other, and in the process took the time to clue in the listeners a bit. Everybody won."

Balance is key to the bassist's agenda. He admits that he likes to keep many balls in the air simultaneously. "I have more musical ideas than I can deal with sometimes; I really have to catch myself before I overextend."

Yet his music has benefited from the juggling act. Sound constantly morphs throughout Third Eye. Swing and blues are filtered through North African motifs. Exclamation shares space with chamber maneuvers. Avoiding Zornian disjunction, it's more melange than pastiche; ultimately, it makes the case that Allison's arranging skills are as formidable as his writing.

"I don't want to say that the fully expressionistic days are over, but the feeling I get from the community right now is something closer to a middle ground. For me, the idea of getting together and doing one tune for a half-hour is boring. My tastes -- and I'm probably a product of the times -- run toward shorter things that are arranged. I'm used to images flashing by on television, but musically it's even older than that. Look at the Ellington records from the '30s: every piece on them is under three minutes, and they're all complete, beautiful statements. I want my stuff to be concise and to move along quickly. Plus, heading through contrasting sections sets up another kind of rhythm."

In the flutter of "Four Folk Songs," a crosshatch of disparate melodies seems utterly dependent on each other. The piece is Third Eye's opening salvo, and the octet executes its intricacies in such a guileless manner you get the feeling that they could find a way to make even the most contrary notions become cronies.

Allison is the product of supportive parents and a Connecticut arts high school. There was a handful of the usual jazz records in the house when he was growing up -- Brubeck, Miles and such. He played guitar and electric bass early on, trying acoustic bass as a freshman in college. In high school a teacher asked the members of a band class to raise their hands if they believed a music profession was in their future. Allison's arm shot up before he even thought it through.

"I went through the phases: one day a punk rocker, then a hippie into reggae, I played in a salsa band. But I was looking for something more."

Jazz was where he found himself after eliminating those other interests. "Someone was asking me about traditional vs. forward- thinking musicians. My response was that we're more similar than people probably believe. We both know the canon. It's just that a traditional player makes obvious the link between himself and the past. And the forward musicians disguise those influences, using a subtle mix. They're editing it their way, and covering their tracks. To me, jazz is an expansionist kind of music, where you're coming out of something, but you're going somewhere, too. In a way, the music will never be what it once was. Bop was of its time. But hot dogs aren't five cents, anymore, you know what I mean?"

Haitian songs learned in high school, prepared instruments a la Cage, the inclusion of an oud player, mantras, Man Ray and Marakesh, third stream, toy pianos -- Medicine Wheel's swirl of sources is immense, but never confused. Gleefully walking a crooked path, the band gives a new, cliche-free pedigree to mongrel notions. Dynamics are stressed, easy conclusions are skirted, the music is always in flux. Can you say kaleidoscopic?

Sculpting the skronk

Pianist Mark Soskin, bassist Harvie Swartz -- there's been no lack of jazz in the city this summer. Now, Capitol Arts Providence has teamed up with the Providence Black Repertory Company to advance the cause even further. The compact yet wide-angled, adventurous yet entertaining show they' have put together for the Providence Waterfront Jazz Festival boasts a great array of modern talent.

Over the last decade or so, the repertoire has been changing for jazz vocalists. Dominique Eade has been at the forefront of the shift. She's always looking for novel pieces to interpret. A music zealot, the 40-year-old singer begins her terrific The Long Way Home (RCA) with a take on on Elton John's "Come Down In Time." It's a gorgeous tune in its original version, but Eade and bassist Dave Holland give it a bit more flair with their opening pronouncement. Setting mood is important in jazz; with the master's bass line wrapped around the leader's cooing, a definite atmosphere is established. Pianist Fred Hersch calls her a fearless collaborator, and he's right. Eade is always striving to express her emotions in meaty musical ways. That's what improvising is about. When she pulls into town, she'll be bringing a stellar outfit. Pianist Bruce Barth is one of New York's most thoughtful and discerning players; ditto for drummer Victor Lewis, whose subtle attack is usually a fascinating contradiction. The quartet is rounded out by clever bassist Ed Howard.

Also on the docket is the mighty trumpeter Wallace Roney. I caught him at the Texaco Jazz Fest this June with his partner Geri Allen's group. Her sly compositions and his canny horn lines made it one of the most rewarding shows of the program. Roney's resume is heavy. Miles Davis applauded his style and featured him in one of his final live projects, a Sketches of Spain update that shook the Montreux Jazz Fest in 1991. He spent much of the '80s working with Tony Williams's band, and in the '90s toured the world standing shoulder to shoulder with Williams, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter and Wayne Shorter. Yes, he can hold his own. Be on the lookout -- with enigmatic tunes and bravura playing, Wallace is a showstopper.

Jon Lucien is a talented vocalist whose combination of smooth jazz, loverman R&B, and Brazilian tempos make him stand out from the competition. A bit of melodrama sometimes sneaks into his work, but there's also a depth that resonates through the tunes. His set will include tunes from his new Shanachie disc, By Request.

The Providence Waterfront Jazz Festival is at Waterplace Park on Sunday, August 8 from 1 to 7 p.m. Admission is $7. Call 621-1992.