Mêlée - with Aaron Siegel |Editions Brokenresearch|

Not sure if the title is with Aaron Siegel or if this latest Mêlée disc goes untitled. Again, doesn't matter, especially if there's a monkey on the cover, an angry one at that.

Mêlée is manned by Graveyards' Hans Buetow, Ben Hall and trumpetplayer/improviser Aaron Siegel, who's one sixth of Anthony Braxton's Sextet. I feel I have to apologise for all these Graveyards-related blogposts but there's too much good stuff flowing from these guys' hands to simply pass on (next up is the latest Graveyards release on Edition Brokenresearch so boo ya).

Also, if there's a direct link from the earlier AMMprovisers and the contemporary wave of noise/improv dudes it can just as much be traced through the hearts of Buetow and Hall as the Erstwhile catalogue. And that's something worth highlighting don''t you agree? As for Aaron Siegel, if Braxton knows it....for real.

What Mêlée do is what every improviser aims at: to create subtle tension whilst searching for the perfect outlet. Main ingredient: chemistry. Of course it often leads to halfbaked efforts due to too little chemistry, or talent. Mêlée often succeed in finding the right spots or postponing tension release. It's an extreme balancing act, meated up by Siegel's lurking trumpetplaying. Everytime he rips through the surface it's extremely rewarding and he doesn't just go for cowardice blows, he makes a gesture everytime he surfaces. It's niiiice, as Borat would say. Word.

I find it hard to talk about individual tracks here cos every track flows into the other and the large amounts of space stretch every second to the point of no point in time. At these moments, the music on this cd-r just is. When they decide to get outspoken, the contrast is almost epic. Take the album's second track, around the 19-minute mark, when the trumpet unleashes a long and mourning drone, everything else goes silent. It's like your first morning stretch on a summer sunday morning and you realise everyone has vanished. Hall and Buetow crawl around the often euphoric core of trumpetsounds like insects trying to get a bite. Brittle percussion, thin cello brushes, sometimes playful, withdrawn at others.
There's a hidden charm in these kind of improv albums, something that lures you back in everytime you think of it. Like there's something in it that you've yet to discover. No doubt you'll find it.