This page is in two sections. The first is my evaluations of a handful of critics. The second is a list of some of the critics who have written about my stuff and the stuff they wrote.

Criticizing the Critics

Ideally a piece of arts criticism can stand alone as a work of literature. Articles by masters such as David Denby (film) or Calvin Trillin (food) are engaging even to the reader who has no intention of consuming the product under review. For those who do choose to watch, read, eat, look at, or listen to the subject of a review, the criticism should deepen the experience of watching, reading, eating or whatever. 
 

It is a sacred duty to be a critic in any field, including music. Not only can a critic affect the professional course of a musician’s life, the critic may actually affect how people listen to music. It is interesting and distressing that the potential importance of the critics’ role has no apparent relationship to their abilities or training. In fact, for many publications blogs the only qualification for a music critic is the willingness to be a music critic. The reason is economic. Many smaller publications offer only token payment. These hobbyist critics and perhaps even many of the pros do this work for the love of the music. They listen to staggering quantities of recordings. They write for near to nothing and then in their off hours blog and comment on blogs about the same stuff. God love them for that. 

The bigger publications pay better, of course, and their critics are more polished. But too often avant-jazz critics are stumped as to what to say. They rely on two common strategies. The first is simple affect. “I liked this. I didn’t like that.” They function as a Consumer Reports for music. The other is to offer blow-by-blow descriptions of the music in allegorical language. “Lowe then enters like sparks careening from a welder’s torch. Reacting with alarm, Drake parries with snare-drum thunderclaps and floor-tom canon blasts. Soon…” and so on. 

Below each critic is evaluated for his or her body of work rather than for individual reviews. The rating system is divided into two components: reviewership and musicianship (where known), each on a scale of zero to five upturned noses. 

Why am I qualified to critique critics? As part of my graduate research I studied the topic of criticism and conducted experiments on how reading criticism affected listening. I have been reviewed and interviewed often enough to be exposed to some critics’ strengths and weaknesses (don’t get me started on, well just don’t get me started). And if they can, why can’t I?

Many critics can be thin skinned considering that they make it their mission criticizing the art of others. Some have even written or called to complain about their evaluations. And it can be no shock that some have made and kept promises to stop writing about my music. Life goes on.

Russell Carlson

publications ➤ Jazz Times (associate editor), Harp (associate editor)

personal contacts ➤ None

reviewed ➤ Song Songs Song, christangelfox, 15=15

bias ➤ Stylistically he stopped listening in 1955. Especially fond of pre-bop guitar virtuosos. He really really really hates my music.

reviewership ➤ Loads his copy with so many cringe-inducing archaic hipster clichés that it is impossible to take his analysis seriously. 1.5 upturned noses

musicianship ➤ Appears to be a guitarist, but that’s all I know. Evaluation pending.

aggregate rating ➤ 1.5 upturned noses

John Corbett

publications ➤ DownBeat

personal contacts ➤ My trio was one of the first groups he booked into his Empty Bottle series. He is polite and intelligent and knowledgeable about many genres of music. No fan of mine, however.

reviewed ➤ None

bias ➤ An academic who studied early free-jazz musicians for his doctoral work, Corbett has a love of outsider musicians and faux outsiders as well.

reviewership ➤ Well informed but his prose is remarkably old-school for someone so smitten with the avant-garde. 3.5 upturned noses

musicianship ➤ Enthusiastic, but unskilled guitarist 1.5 upturned noses

aggregate rating ➤ 2.5 upturned noses

Julian Cowley

publications ➤ The Wire

personal contacts ➤ One or two emails

reviewed ➤ this that, 96 Gestures, Dénouement, The Diary of Dog Drexel

bias ➤ Seems to prefer avant-jazz.

reviewership ➤ Well-read, good writer. 4 upturned noses

musicianship ➤ Unknown

aggregate rating ➤ 4 upturned noses

Stefan Gijssels

publications ➤ Free Jazz Blogspot

personal contacts ➤ Two emails.

reviewed ➤ Bitter Love Songs, Drawings, Fugu, I Never Meta Guitar

bias ➤ It seems as though he listens primarily to rock and post-bop and he appears ignorant of New Music and Experimental Music. "The three great musicians of the last century all three came to their peak in the 60s: John Coltrane, Miles Davis and Jimi Hendrix. In the totality of human musical history, you can forget about the rest of twentieth century composers, but not those three.”

reviewership ➤ Strong opinions and an absence of knowledge is a deadly combination. 2 upturned noses

musicianship ➤ Unknown

aggregate rating ➤ 2 upturned noses

Walter Horn

publications ➤ Cadence

personal contacts ➤ Walter sent me an email when I accidentally credited one of his reviews to a different writer. Later he submitted one of his projects to my now-deceased label Geode.

reviewed ➤ Sonotropism

bias ➤ A fan of and participant in avant-garde jazz and improvised music.

reviewership ➤ Mean spirited and sometimes misinformed. 2 upturned noses

musicianship ➤ Judging from the one recording of his that I have heard, incompetent musician. 1.5 upturned noses

aggregate rating ➤ 2 upturned noses

Tom Hull

publications ➤ tomhull.com, appears to vote in several critics polls

personal contacts ➤ none

reviewed ➤ Bitter Love Songs, Fugu, Minaret Minuets, Moersbow/OZZO, Five Frozen Eggs

bias ➤ Unknown

reviewership ➤ He writes capsule reviews of a flood of submissions. The most unpalatable aspect of his reviews is his high-school grading system. (My lowest grade has been B+ and the highest has been A-.) That's even more sophomoric than upturned noses. He loses two upturned noses for repeatedly comparing me to Derek Bailey and half for calling Moersbow/OZZO "more pleasing than anyone would expect," which reveals that he didn't expect it to be pleasing. 2.5 upturned noses

musicianship ➤ unknown

aggregate rating ➤ 2.5 upturned noses

Budd Kopman

publications ➤ All About Jazz

personal contacts ➤ We had a weird exchange. In his review of Song Songs Song he busted me for an error in my liner notes (I meant sharp 9 but wrote flat 9), but then erroneously said that a person I quoted (snidely, he says) “does not even know Fields.” She does and I told him, but he left the error posted.

reviewed ➤ Song Songs Song

bias ➤ Unknown

reviewership ➤ He reviewed the CD in a vacuum, without listening to anything else of mine, and made several errors. But although he could have spent less time analyzing the liner notes, he seemed to grasp the music. 2.5 upturned noses

musicianship ➤ Appears to be a guitarist, but that’s all I know. Evaluation Pending.

aggregate rating ➤ 2.5 upturned noses

Jon Morgan

publications ➤ Signal to Noise, Cadence

personal contacts ➤ I met Jon when he contacted me for an interview. He stayed at my house overnight, talked to me for hours, until I refused to continue, and then told me that he didn’t have a publication for the story. He was just hoping to find one and never did.

Some time later I invited him to watch my ensemble rehearse, record, and perform my composition “96 Gestures.” The idea wasn’t so much that he needed to write about the project, but that it would bring him in contact with the musicians, including Joseph Jarman, Myra Melford, Rob Mazurek, Matt Turner, Dylan van der Skyff, Francois Houle, and others.

He didn’t take a single note during the five days that he observed us. He barely spoke to anyone. When he returned to Minneapolis he spammed all 13 of the musicians with a long questionnaire. The result was a flood of what-the-fuck? emails from the musicians to me. Nothing came of this visit either.

A couple of years later Jon told Signal-to-Noise that he would write a profile of me and asked for a stack of my CDs they had in a queue to be reviewed. Did the same with Coda, but never wrote for either and both publications then couldn’t review the CDs because he wouldn’t return them. On a blog, he also outed my Asperger’s, which was supposed to be in confidence. I will someday punch him on his upturned nose.

reviewed ➤ Disaster at Sea, Five Frozen Eggs

bias ➤ Avant-garde jazz.

reviewership ➤ Ultimate slacker amateur. Would give him 0.5 upturned nose, but I’ll throw in an extra for the nice label he used to run. 1.5 upturned noses.

musicianship ➤ Unknown

aggregate rating ➤ 1.5 upturned noses

awaiting judgement

Paul Acquaro

Minaret Minuets

There is a great deal of space for electric guitarist Scott Fields and tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert to fill on this recent duo outing. 

Clean Feed offers this description on their site: “In the Minaret Minuets system there are two separate but equal branches: the electric guitar and the tenor saxophone. Composer slash instrumentalists — those roles smear — Scott Fields and Matthias Schubert find myriad methods to blend and contrast, to appear to be at one moment a larger ensemble and then to sound as just one.” 

I do not think I could have composed a better summation of the music within — the tracks feel organically grown and composed by the spontaneous reactions between the musicians, running the gamut from tiny sounds produced by the acoustics surrounding the instruments to playing at their extremes. Without the grounding of bass or percussion and sans any traditional song structure, all emphasis is shifted to the musician’s interplay and sonic atmosphere. 

For example, there is a passage about halfway into the extended “Willie’s Billy Beer” where the guitar melody skitters over light saxophonic flatulence. So intimate, barely making a sound, the woodwind’s breathiness provides just enough subtle support for the delicate melody. Soon, everything from key clicks to short snippets of melody from the sax begin interacting with string scratches and muted pickings. It’s the textures of sound bouncing off each other that make such sparse moments so effective. Their approach seems to capture emotions and subconscious thoughts more than overt statements. 

But all is not calm, while there are great expanses of ruminative rambling, there are also moments of rambunctious raucousness. The 7-minute “Multi Trill” begins exhilaratingly — all skronk und drang — but eventually settles into a more lyrical flow. “Santa on a Segway” has moments of sweetness and synergy where the rhythms and tones between the two players meld delightfully. 

This is a long recording — clocking in around the 75 minutes mark and while it takes some determination to sit through the whole event, it takes its time to unfold and contains many interesting passages that make it worth the listen. At any one point the guitar may be laying down a rhythmic single note figure and then drop in some chords while the sax bounces melodic figured off the morphing structures, then the roles may shift or transform into other shapes and sounds. 

This is a conversation that never ends — it’s one held in music and while there may be lulls and heated moments, there is no time when the ideas dry up. four stars — Free Jazz Blogspot

Afiadacampos

According to Scott Fields’ website, this recording with Elliot Sharp, Afiadacampos, came out in 2010, which on the cusp of 2012, makes me a little more than fashionably late. Apologies for my tardiness, however, I am pleased to report the music has not aged a bit. I think the first thing that stuck out to me on this recording is just how nicely recorded the steel string acoustic guitars sound. 

Since they are rather indistinguishable sonically, the separation is done via left and right channel making this a nice album to listen to via the headphones. The sound swirls and coalesces in time and space, sometimes disorientingly, sometime soothingly. Typically a guitar duo, which is a favorite configuration of mine, relies on a division between melodic, rhythmic and harmonic functions, in varying combinations. Here, the duties seem split melodic/melodic, harmonic/texture, texture/melodic, basically everything but what you may expect. 

The songs are reactions and cerebral conversations between the guitarists. Just to take one song at random, say, “I Love Not Green Eggs” apart, one would hear every aforementioned interaction, with sharp melodic cluster bouncing off string scrapes and defiant low register plucks. Almost classical passages sit atop randomness. This is the un-formula of each improvisation. 

If there is a complaint to lodge, it would be that about half-way through the recording that the improvizations begin to blend into each other. However, just in time, the tracks “Delta Delta” and “Sun Figtree” negates that criticism as vigorous rhythms and knotty textures are effectively deployed. It all works to create a rather interesting and provocative set of acoustic explorations. 

This is something I’d recommend to listeners who are adventurous, thirsty for something different, and appreciate the many sounds of the steel string acoustic guitar. Four stars. — Free Jazz Blogspot

Akra-Kampoj

From the opening notes of 'Bagsant' you can hear that you are in for a guitar heavy treat. With at least 12 electrified strings between Sharp and Fields, they choose play a single note figure basically differentiated only by the tone of their guitars - the left side is fuzzier. Small changes make all the difference until their lines diverge and the song opens up. 'Denisova Stomp' features some rapid melodic lines and delicate intersections but then becomes quite heavy towards the end. The elements of the track are many and varied, changing textures and tones will swing from quiet to fearsome at the flick of a pick. This duo obvious chemistry is not without some history. I last checked in with Fields and Sharpe back in 2012 when I reviewed Afiadacampos, which is an acoustic effort. Either way, acoustic or electric, this is the work of two master musicians, who together create a fascinating world straddling composition and improvisation. — Free Jazz Blogspot

Noël Akchoté

Afiadacampos and What We Talk

Next chapter in the Scott Fields journey. Two string duets (guitars, theorbo) based on compositional and interpretations studies. Pretty focused and sharp, not the usual lengthy improv tapes at least. While listening to these two albums I find and booknote many passages I would like to hear again, pause and think of, enter. Scott Fields is a very aware artist, he pays a lot of attention to all parameters active in music, balances them, questions them and gives each time a proposal and a position. For my own taste and interest I even find that this composed form fits Fields the most, giving a backbone to the whole playing and clearing all the loose cuts of improv in general. The type of record I keep, file and want to get back to, slower. It draws a line to follow and makes each of his albums related to each other from inside. — Skug

Clifford Allen

Bitter Love Songs

The Freetet is ostensibly Cologne-based guitarist Scott Fields’ “traditional blowing vehicle,” and Bitter Love Songsis his first in the guitar-bass-drums format since Mamet(Delmark, 2001), with bassist Michael Formanek and drummer Michael Zerang. On Bitter Love Songs, he’s joined by German bassist Sebastian Gramss and Portuguese drummer João Lobo. What makes this date a semi-departure for Fields is that, in the last six years, most of his work has been for chamber ensembles with unique instrumentation; improvised but with challenging notation. These include Beckett (Clean Feed, 2006) and We Were the Phliks (Rogue Art, 2007). 

“Yea Sure, We Can Still Be Friends, Whatever” opens Bitter Love Songs, an evermore scumbled improvisation on a simple-but-effective bluesy theme, from fleet mid-range choruses to muted smears interspersed with referential flecks. Gramss and Lobo make a solid post-bop pair, yet seamlessly enter into frantic collective interplay as Fields’ runs become blurred. 

More pointillist is “Go Ahead, Take the Furniture, At Least You Helped Pick It Out,” occupying similar structural territory to Fields’ more delicate chamber pieces, while still sallying forth with a pliant groove. 

What might separate this group from “traditional” theme-solos-theme orientation is that, for the most part, the leader is the only soloist (Gramss is spotlighted on “I Was Good Enough for You…”). Nevertheless, the Freetet’s approach is certainly unified—as Fields’ playing becomes more fragmentary and texturally diverse, Gramss and Lobo up the ante. Indeed, the bassist is frequently the first to follow Fields in speedy plucked lines, as mutual shading soon approaches a locking of horns. 

“My Love is Love, Your Love is Hate” (winner of the shortest-title contest on this disc) finds the writing becoming progressively more seasick in a hellishly knotty melodic/rhythmic collision, Lobo’s suspended time gradually filling in momentum alongside the strings’ ornate picking, digs and scrapes. Sub-tonal jabs behind the bridge approach British guitarist Ray Russell’s territory, before the trio brings the tune into a muddy thrum. One must be prepared for relentlessness with this disc—even the brief calm of a dusky Grant Green-ish melody on “Your Parents Must Be Just Ecstatic Now” is quickly overtaken by a storm of fuzz and piercing shards. 

When Fields and guitarist Jeff Parker convened a double-trio for Denouement (Geode, 1997, reissued on Clean Feed), the level of interplay from the “paired Freetets” astounded this writer. On Bitter Love Songs, multiplying the equation is unnecessary, as there’s so much music available here. — All About Jazz

Dénouement

This may very well be   the year that puts Chicago guitarist Scott Fields firmly on the improvisational map. His Clean Feed Records debut, Beckett, occupies a tense poise between measured and somewhat theatre-inspired movement and free immediacy. Joining him on the tightrope walk are percussionist John Hollenbeck, tenorman Matthias Schubert and cellist Scott Roller. On the heels of Beckett is the reissue of Dénouement, a double-trio recording initially waxed in 1997 for Fields’ tiny, now-defunct Geode label. He’s joined by guitarist Jeff Parker (here in a pre-Thrill Jockey guise), bassists Jason Roebke and Hans Sturm, and drummers Hamid Drake and Michael Zerang (who appeared with bassist Michael Formanek on Fields’ excellent Delmark disc Mamet). 

Fields characterizes the music as “the bastard child of King Sunny Adé and Ornette Coleman” and he might not be incorrect in that assertion. Luckily not recorded in mono, each trio is audible in separate yet interweaving channels, Fields, Sturm and Drake on the right and Parker, Roebke and Zerang on the left. From the opening plinks and strums of “Her Children,” plaintive and nearly detuned, Parker and Fields underpin, addend and fragment their own dialogue, a delicate conversation in language about to collapse on itself. Pulled out from dissipation by a seemingly abrupt arrival at martial swing, the twin rhythm sections offer a steadily oppositional groove, basses and guitars walking in contrasts and a unison of throaty grasps, linked mostly by absence. After all, one reason for using two bassists or drummers in opposing rhythms is that the contrast will, rather than stagnate create a third and less deterministic pulse, stemming from “both” and “neither.” 

Like musical forebears the Art Ensemble of Chicago and the Spontaneous Music Ensemble, these lengthy improvisations (albeit with brief written signposts) should be taken as a whole, with individual areas popping out and grabbing one’s senses — dueling arco-ponticello basses catch the ear mightily, percussion hanging overhead in implied fits of near-waltz as Fields and Parker skitter from the front porch to somewhere way, way underground. A charged, fuzzy rock phrase is worried in damning repetition, Sharrock-like overtones brought out as basses, toms and a second guitar both goad and placate. It’s the simultaneity of sounds, phrases and rhythms and their conflicted outcomes — or, rather, the space between these things — that makes Fields’ ensembles work. Luckily for us, this early example of his music is available again. — Paris Transatlantic Magazine

Jon Andrews

Mamet

Cloistered in Wisconsin, guitarist Scott Fields devises new ways of structuring improvisation. In a string of unjustly overlooked CDs, he’s experimented with groups of varying configurations. This incarnation of Fields’ ensemble is a good introduction to his music, in part because it showcases his thoughtful, probing guitar solos in a trio setting. Inspired by playwright David Mamet, this project uses the atmospheres, dramatic interactions and texts from five plays to guide the soloists. Fields goes so far as to incorporate Mamet’s dialogue into his instrumental scores, and to assign dramatic roles to each musician. The strategy demands, and obtains, expressive, “vocal” performances from bassist Michael Formanek and drummer Michael Zerang. 

On “The Woods,” listen to the give-and-take between Fields’ guitar and Formanek’s bass, which voice the female and male “leads,” respectively. Fields’ guitar solos pass through a pleading blues twang to sputtering anger, culminating in howls of anguish. Without in-depth knowledge of the plays or the scores, it’s impossible to assess how closely the trio captures the meaning or rhythms of Mamet’s dialogue. The performances are so good that it shouldn’t matter. four stars! — Downbeat

Glenn Astarita

Hornets Collage

Overall, Hornets Collage is lyrical, enduring, spacious yet subtly captivating as the Trio pursue layered themes and sweet-tempered choruses while the music breathes life and conjures up vivid imagery proportionate to an impressionist painter of landscapes or dreams…. Hornets Collage is an authentic synthesis of interminable patterns as the musicians keenly and vividly conceptualize the notions of nature, hard at work. Recommended! **** — All About Jazz

Song Songs Song

On Song Songs Song Parker and guitarist Scott Fields engage in a freeform, improvised route amid track titles that would make Captain Beefheart proud. The duo partakes in scratching and clawing via lightly amplified electric guitar lines and contrasting sound-shaping maneuvers. On the opening “LK 92,” perhaps the most accessible piece of the bunch, Parker and Fields render a laidback jazz-blues motif topped off with an affecting melody and random shifts in pitch. Although the guitarists occasionally crank it up and with just enough amplification to generate some bite, the majority of the set is structured upon irregular ebbs and flows. 

The duo uses space as a means for maintaining an element of surprise while also employing volume control techniques and assimilating a wide-ranging latitude of viewpoints. The 17-minute improvisation “Untitled, 1955, Crayon On Kellogg’s Corn Flakes Box,” is part minimalism and dissonance, embellished with clanging harmonics and odd phrasings. The picture painted here is that of two shrewd operators establishing a few guidelines, yet not knowing or caring where they’ll end up. 3 stars (out of 5) — DownBeat

Barclay

Guitarist Scott Fields’ distinctive approach to composition marches to the next level on this third installment of the “Beckett Trilogy,” where he uses additional Samuel Barclay Beckett (1906-1989) plays as an inspiration for these three extended works, based on the novelist’s text/plots. 

The ensemble seemingly weaves some of Beckett’s black comedy and humor into concise and rather spirited statements via geometric, non-linear and asymmetrically paced grooves with incongruent slants, offering some brain candy for your psyche to nibble on. Fields’ complex works contain elements of pathos amid traces of melodic content and themes that are often renewed and deformed. And there’s lots of counterpoint between the guitarist and tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert in tandem with fractured pulses, false endings and rough-hewn free style excursions. The band undulates the current with variances in pitch and cadences that occasionally lead to some fun and frolic. 

“…but the clouds ...” is one of three extended pieces designed with Avant chamber inferences, punk jazz, and quietude, segueing to a bit of fire and brimstone, spurred by cellist Scott Roller and drummer Dominik Mahnig’s rambunctious exchanges. Fields’ electric guitar distortion techniques spark a gritty, in-your-face muse, amped up by the drummer’s jackhammer-like accents and brusque fills. Nonetheless, the quartet maintains a continuum of suspense, although these pieces demand some degree of critical listening: it’s by no means background or mood music. 

Throughout, the quartet seemingly integrates Beckett’s manifold plots that continually unfold, complete with scenic environs, narrow alleyways, big city debacles and penetrating narratives, accentuating Fields’ excitedly imaginative and largely incomparable methodologies. **** — All About Jazz

Paul Baker

Seven Deserts

The prolific composer Scott Fields continues his momentum with Seven Deserts, another ambitious work for large ensemble. Because the genesis of this project, and of the composer himself, are both well addressed by Elliott Sharp’s liner notes, I will add here only my impressions as a listener who hears music visually.

The large ensemble of acoustic instruments (woodwinds, brass, percussion, strings) and understated electric guitars, suggests sights you might encounter on an evening stroll through nature: startled chipmunks, crickets in heat, scampering lizards. A dusky field sparkling with 10,000 fireflies. Pointillist colors.

Or while navigating a dystopian city: dark heavy clouds, industrial waste, a stumbling addict, Rimbaud’s Drunken Boat.  A nod to Gershwin’s An American  in Paris. A Charles Ivesian collision of marching bands.

Very human noises: hiccups, burps, farts, kisses, sucks, moans, sneezes, stuttering, chatter, made possible as the instruments are required (or freed?) to play beyond their normal ranges of tone, pitch and volume. The bass clarinet screams in angst way up in flute range, The double bass roars, grates, scratches, and belches.

Over the course of a ten minute piece, spare densities slowly accrete, become denser, or louder, or both, then loop around.

Long time followers of Scott Fields’s music (I belong to the tribe) will find this recording comfortingly familiar, that is to say, threateningly challenging. — Only Strings

Andrew Bartlett

Five Frozen Eggs

Five Frozen Eggs merges the tensile throttle of Disaster and charged largeness of 48 Motives. — Eugene Weekly

48 Motives

48 Motives is a profound extension of Fields’ hornless quintet CD Fugu (Geode) where he amply displayed his use of different contemporary post-free jazz and post-classical music. Fields excels in creating slowly sculpted swerves, hairpin turns, and even magnificently powerful door blowing exertions. And on Motives, Stephen Dembski brilliantly guided the octet version of Fields’ ensemble for an adventurous sound event that awaits you. — Midwest Jazz Magazine

Disaster at Sea

All together, the CD is a rattling affair. Fields attacks his guitar as Cecil Taylor or Borah Bergman attack the piano. He takes massive swipes across it, covering a scatter of notes that get clustered so tightly together that the impact of each piece takes multiple listens to blossom. Fast and loud, the trio slams its way through Fields’ highly developed approach to the guitar and composition. — Midwest Jazz Magazine

Carl Baugher

Running with Scizzors

When he does solo, Fields is inventive and accomplished and his instrument enjoys a wonderful sense of depth in the recording. Most of all, the compositions fit the group — Fields is a thoughtful and probing composer, again often bring to mind the late Eric Dolphy in his choice of wide intervals and corduroy rhythms. — Cadence Magazine

Bill Bennett

48 Motives

Double quartet, 48 eight-bar themes, each with its rhythmic counterpart, and a conductor to order and cue the themes at his discretion: those are the components of this recording. Fields counts on the interaction of these motives to generate interest. It happens at times, but the overall effect is that of minimalism: texture begging for development. — Jazz Times

Enrico Bettinello

Dénouement

Registrata dieci anni fa, la musica di Dénouement ha faticato - succede, non c'è da stupirsi - per trovare il modo di venire pubblicata, venendo palleggiata tra etichette e produttori vari, per poi uscire una prima volta con la non fortunata etichetta Geode di Scott Fields e finalmente approdare a una label di qualità indiscutibile e di buona diffusione come la portoghese Clean Feed. 

Un doppio trio, quello organizzato dal chitarrista di Chicago, artista dal percorso creativo assolutamente personale, tra la libertà dell'AACM e il rigore compositivo seriale: con lui sono un manipolo di altri straordinari protagonisti della scena chicagoana, Jeff Parker a "doppiare" il ruolo chiatrristico, Hans Sturm e Jason Roebke al contrabbasso, i telepatici Hamid Drake e Michael Zerang alla batteria. 

Nella mani di Fields un organico “speculare” di questo tipo consente un'organizzazione a “rompicapo” della materia musicale — lo specifica lo stesso chitarrista nella note di presentazione al disco - con sovrapposizioni metriche e sfasamenti tonali. Ne esce una musica irrequieta, nervosa, ammaliante nel suo percorrere orizzonti in progressivo sfasamento. 

Il rapporto tra le coppie di strumenti [da un punto di vista squisitamente timbrico, ad esempio, il binomio con l'asciutto Parker è spesso interessante] è in continua evoluzione e si muove in composizioni dall'ampio respiro, magari non eccessivamente gratificanti da un punto di vista del puro godimento d'ascolto, ma che si insinuano come piccole ossessioni. 3.5 stelle — All About Jazz, Italy

Jason Bivins

Scharfefelder

Two of Clean Feed’s best loved guitarists meet up “Scharfefelder” for a knotty, flinty series of performances based on compositional sketches the pair cooked up in advance. These kinds of exchanges can be quite compelling, particularly with two players so eager to achieve distance from everything even remotely associated with typical guitar duos. They do so without sacrificing their zeal for the basic characteristics of the instrument. For one thing, there’s lovely and quite dense counterpoint all over the place, notes replicating like pixels among the push-pull rhythms, string scrabble, and chiming harmonics of “Branedrane.” But the mood isn’t always antic or jittery. The music is disorienting but also quite reflective, even poignant on “Big, Brutal, Cold Raindrops.” Things billow out, or disperse like a droplet of soap in oily water, on “Minerali.” And they draw out long, looping lines that spool downward as tempo slackens on “Shuffle Through the Restaurateur Gauntlet.” Taken a track or two at a time, this stuff is bracing, though as an album my impression was that it went on for too long. As a whole, something about this music didn’t connect with me, and I consistently found it more impressive than enjoyable. Many listeners will dig this, as on some basic level it’s enough that two good guitarists play well together. — Cadence Magazine

Luc Bouquet

Frail Lumber

Les cordes de Scott Fields ont de la suite dans les idées et le sens des hautes voltiges. Leur nature première se nomme inquiétude, leur seconde dissonance. Elles ne savent que se mêler et pulvériser le contrepoint naissant. Ces cordes disent la menace et la désorganisation. Elles activent de bien étranges circulations: lignes fuyantes en transit (Ziricoté), masse hurlante ne trouvant jamais d’échappée (Koa), basse continue brésillée par de bruitistes guitares (Paulownia), archets hurlants de terreur (Cocobolo), entorses fulminantes (Bubinga). Ici, l’alphabet du désagréable trouve son idéal dictionnaire. 

Ces cordes saillantes et cisaillantes, oppressantes, menaŤantes, le sont grâce à Mesdames Jessica Pavone et Mary Oliver & Messieurs Scott Fields, Daniel Levin, Axel Lindner, Scott Roller, Vincent Royer et Elliott Sharp. On souhaite vivement les réentendre. — Le son du grisli

Minaret Minuets

J’aime ce duo pour ses éclats et son franc-jouer. J’aime ce duo parce que les harmoniques de l’un et de l’autre sont fielleuses à souhait. J’aime ce duo parce que leur liberté d’action est immense. 

J’aime ce duo parce gu’ils ne débordent jamais pour rien. J’aime ce duo parce que leur musique a oublié d’être agréable. J’aime ce duo parce que le coupant entre dans leur royaume. J’aime ce duo parce qu’ils envoient valser la joliesse aux oubliettes. J’aime ce duo parce que l’un ne récupère ou ne copie jamais l’autre. J’aime ce duo parce que leurs thèmes sont sinueux, toujours à la limite de la sécheresse. J’aime ce duo parce qu’ils connaissent l’exacte définition de la saccade. J’aime ce duo parce que quand l’un grouille, l’autre bourdonne. J’aime ce duo parce qu’en soixante-dix minutes, je n’ai jamais connu une minute d’ennui. 

Vous l’aurez compris: j’aime ce duo. — Improjazz

António Branco

he Songs of Steve Dalachinsky

Steve Dalachinsky (1946-2019) era um homem do renascimento, tantas eram as artes que cultivava: a poesia, a música, as artes plásticas, o cinema. O novo disco do guitarrista e compositor norte-americano Scott Fields, baseado na Alemanha, parte das palavras de Dalachinky e confere-lhe toda uma nova dimensão. Tem selo da Ayler Records e a jazz.pt já o escutou.

Num artigo publicado no New York Times, em 2019, Neil Genzlinger debateu-se com a dúvida do que chamar a Steve Dalachinsky (1946-2019). Poeta? Sim, seria provavelmente essa a escolha mais óbvia, tendo em conta os livros que publicou, as sessões públicas de leitura – muitas vezes acompanhadas por música, nos clubes do jazz mais estimulante de Nova Iorque e arredores –, as distinções que recebeu ao longo da vida. Mas era o próprio quem fugia do termo. No documentário “Spotlight on Steve Dalachinsky”, de 2013, vemo-lo a dissertar sobre o assunto, se merece ou não ser apodado de poeta, numa excursão reflexiva que termina com ele dizendo, «Esqueci-me da pergunta.» Num artigo de 2016, a The Villager citou-o dizendo uma coisa e o seu contrário «Não gosto sequer de ser chamado poeta», mas também «Vamos pô-lo desta forma: sou um poeta.» Personagem idiossincrático, Dalachinsky não gostava que engavetassem o que fazia. A sua viúva, Yuko Otomo, disse a Genzlinger que «no final da vida ele tenha percebido que não era bom em nada além de escrever poesia.»

Mas Dalachinsky era também um artista plástico, com trabalho exibido em galerias. E alguém profundamente apaixonado pelo jazz, sobretudo o de feição mais aventureira, o free jazz que tanto lhe dizia. Muitos foram os músicos que lhe pediram que escrevesse as notas de capa dos seus discos. Havia críticos que diziam que se o vissem num concerto, era porque se iria ouvir boa música. Era figura omnipresente na downtown nova-iorquina, em particular no Soho, onde residia. Mas o seu amor por qualquer coisa “criativa e inspiradora” ia muito além de qualquer categoria artística; estava aberto a muitas coisas, das artes visuais ao cinema, literatura e, acima de tudo, à própria vida. Steve Dalachinsky estava por isso a fazer o que gostava no dia 14 de setembro de 2019, no museu de arte de Islip, em Long Island, onde leu alguns dos seus poemas após ter assistido a um concerto da Sun Ra Arkestra em Manhattan. Pouco depois, foi acometido de um ataque cardíaco e de uma hemorragia cerebral, tendo parado de resistir no dia seguinte. Tinha 72 anos.

Foi este universo multímodo que motivou o guitarrista e compositor Scott Fields (Chicago, 1956), radicado na Alemanha; inspirado pela força das palavras de Dalachinsky, compôs aquilo a que poderemos chamar um conjunto de lied, na esteira (longínqua) da tradição schubertiana e de outros compositores clássicos que cultivaram a forma, como nota acertadamente Yuko Otomo em notas de apresentação. O que escutamos em “The Songs of Steve Dalachinsky”, editado pela Ayler Records de Stéphane Berland, são poemas duais que carreiam um conjunto de elementos poéticos/musicais imbrincados, com uma espécie de fio de Ariadne orientar toda a jornada. A voz humana (Barbara Schachtner é exemplar), as respirações, a riqueza tímbrica da paleta instrumental fundem-se em atmosferas muito interessantes de sons e palavras. Esta coleção de seis peças foi estreada em Colónia, em dezembro de 2016, três anos antes da morte de Steve Dalachinsky. Ele e Fields conheceram-se num festival em Nova Iorque onde Steve atuava como MC. (Numa nota pessoal, foi nessa qualidade que o conheci e troquei as únicas palavras com ele, na edição de 2006 do Vision Festival, no Orensanz Center, onde leu poemas integrado num grupo de tributo a John Coltrane.) Dalachinsky estava vasculhando a mesa de CD e merchandising e tinha na mão um CD de Elliott Sharp a solo. Fields apontou para uma pilha de CD da dupla Sharp-Fields e disse-lhe que sim, que Sharp era ótimo sozinho, mas com Fields tinha acontecido magia. Só 45 minutos depois, quando Steve se aproximou para apresentar a banda, ele percebeu que o estranho que se referia àquelas gravações era... o próprio Fields.

Vários anos depois, quando Scott escreveu ao poeta pedindo-lhe autorização para compor música baseada nas suas palavras, Dalachinsky concordou prontamente, sem mencionar o episódio. Fields disse-lhe que era sua intenção compor música que se distanciasse das performances pelas quais ele era conhecido: palavra falada com free jazz, muitas vezes completamente improvisado. Fields considerava que Steve tinha esse género cristalizado e preferiu seguir noutra direção. Dalachinsky enviou dezenas de poemas e deixou que fosse Fields a escolher. O tratamento que o guitarrista lhes aplicou mostra como as palavras de Dalachinsky admitem múltiplos ângulos de abordagem. Steve não pôde comparecer à estreia, mas viu uma compilação em vídeo da apresentação. Scott Fields trabalha com estes músicos há quase duas décadas, exceto Schachtner. Embora alguns dos músicos tenham associações tangenciais ao jazz, o que se escuta pouco terá a ver com o free jazz da cena de Nova Iorque. Movem-se sobretudo nas áreas da música clássica e da música contemporânea; o flautista Norbert Rodenkirchen é também um intérprete conhecido e uma autoridade na música medieval. Todos são músicos experientes, que se movimentam igualmente à-vontade no material formal como nas improvisações balizadas pelas restrições tonais, rítmicas e estruturais.

Scott Fields reforça em “The Songs of Steve Dalachinsky” aquilo que reconhecemos na sua extensa discografia, com quase quatro dezenas de títulos: uma apetência especial para compor tendo um conceito em mente. [Bem representado no catálogo da Clean Feed, com oito álbuns, destes avultam, a estes ouvidos, “Beckett” com o seu Ensemble, em 2007, o magnífico “Scharfefelder”, de 2008, em duo com Elliot Sharp, “Fugu” (2010) e “5 Frozen Eggs” (2012).] A música equilibra uma dimensão cuidadosamente gizada com a espontaneidade das improvisações, em que o coletivo se sobrepõe ao individual, não há solos, prevalecendo uma relojoaria sonora delicadamente estruturada. “Prelude” traz sons de multidão, helicópteros, buzinas, vozes, o bulício de uma cidade que nunca dorme. Em “Rear Windows”, as palavras de Dalachinsky, cantadas pela voz operática por Barbara Schachtner, surgem acolitadas por intervenções instrumentais esparsas, em especial clarinete baixo e tuba – que desenham o motivo-base (flauta, guitarra, acordeão e eletrónicas assomam). “Interlude”, o primeiro de vários, traz novas vozes, fantasmas, ruídos urbanos. Em “Spurlock Reliquaries” a voz de Schachtner surge no início a desenhar umas figuras vocais sem palavras, próximas daquelas que já ouvimos a Sara Serpa. Acordeão, flauta e clarinete baixo – e a guitarra a gerir de perto – envolvem as palavras. A música é rarefeita e frágil.

“Gone White Light” o acordeão fornece a base para um belo arranjo de pendor camerístico, com uma judiciosa gestão de todas as pedras deste inusitado xadrez instrumental. Novo interlúdio dá lugar a “Richard Wilbur´s Spine”, com a sua serenidade inquietante, numa tensão latente que nunca se resolve. A flauta encantatória, à frente dos demais instrumentos, desafia a voz humana que diz: («I stare into richard wilbur’s spine / admittedly never having read richard wilbur nor hearing richard wilbur read / i try to imagine his voice & / come up with something between husky dark / & rich then i add a thick brooklyn accent / oh that’s my voice i’m hearing.») Um interlúdio mais e chegamos à bem-humorada “My Minutes”, com todos os instrumentos a contribuírem para o cômputo sonoro, num jogo onde não sobressaem protagonistas. («I’d love to skydive / but i don’t want to be an elephant caregiver / i’m not sure i want to be a gospel singer / but i know i wouldn’t want to be a / snakecharmer.») De “With Shelter Gone”, a peça mais extensa, com quase 14 minutos de duração, avultam as articulações entre sopros agudos e graves, a guitarra alienígena a pontuar, o acordeão etéreo, funcionando como personagens de um jogo teatral que vai evoluindo ao sabor das palavras. Em “Conclusion” voltam as sirenes, as buzinas, as vozes de crianças, a vida urbana condensada em 50 segundos. — jazz.pt

Stuart Broomer

Seven Deserts

Guitarist Scott Fields, born in Chicago 68 years ago this month and longtime resident of Germany, has been building his music for decades, starting with early exposure to Chicago’s AACM and the special influence of Don Moye and Joseph Jarman of the Art Ensemble. Since the mid ‘90s, he has been developing large-scale compositions involving modular forms to expand and integrate written and improvised elements. Seven Deserts is such a work, a seven-part piece that’s 65-minutes long, derives from a 50-page score and includes an improvising conductor (long-time associate Stephen Dembski) primarily responsible for pulse and density, and a 20-piece orchestra. The latter is as central to the achievement as Fields’ thoughtful management of form, texture and individual input.

The musicians include members of Cologne-based new music ensembles devoted to diverse areas of contemporary practice, with sections of strings, flutes, percussion and brass and a host of individuals distinguished in improvised music, among them bassists Pascal Niggenkemper and Christian Weber, electric guitarists David Stackenäs and Fields himself and individual reed players Frank Gratkowski and saxophonists Ingrid Laubrock and Matthias Schubert. Seven Deserts is a work that continuously alternates and combines distinctive solo voices with a contrapuntal interplay at once distinguished by its wedding of complexity and clarity. No matter how many parts are going on, there’s a sense of individual lines, from the flute that inaugurates the initial segment to the dense, rapid lines of “Desert 6”. Every musician has a highly developed sense of timbre, whether the smooth, even tone of Helen Bledsoe’s flute, varied vocalic chirp and wail of Laubrock’s soprano or Udo Moll’s brash, burred trumpet. The ensembles can develop strange, wandering polyphony with eliding pitches or form tight-knit coils, roam further afield or suddenly halt. The album has been assembled from studio and live performances of the work for the optimum version possible, but the sonic quality is seamless.

As well as invoking a tradition that includes Anthony Braxton, Barry Guy, Roscoe Mitchell and George Lewis, Seven Deserts joins a collection of recent works—Christopher Fox’ Topophony, Laubrock’s Contemporary Chaos Practices, Nate Wooley’s ongoing Seven Storey Mountain—in blurring boundaries between and expanding the possible syntheses of large-scale composition and improvisation, increasingly presented as complementary rather than contrary processes. — New York City Jazz Record

Dénouement

The listener is placed in the midst of a complex of layered dialogues, in which the two guitarists seem most apparent but in which underlying threads of bass and percussion gradually rise to prominence. The levels of clarity and transparency are surprising for a group of this instrumentation, and the ultimate feeling is both abstract and contemplative. — Coda

Song Songs Song

The music is marked by its dynamic sensitivity and unforced flow. The forms are elastic enough for the musicians’ characteristic voices to emerge, but there is far less polarity than empathy between them. While Fields generates some atonal lyricism, almost an extension of Jim Hall, and Parker can insinuate blues connotations into the most abstruse discussion, what stands out is their affinity, the ease of their give-and-take. — Signal to Noise

Hornets Collage

The affinity isn’t about particulars, but rather the quiet intimacy, economy and evanescent lyricism (both composed and improvised) of this remarkable group. Fields’ classical guitar playing is just that, richly sonorous, bell-like and subtly nuanced, and the three-way playing here is a continuous weave of thoughtful linear threads. — Coda

Jean Buzelin

OZZO/Moersbow 

Le guitariste américain Scott Fields faisait partie de la première fournée de disques Clean Feed présentés sur notre site en 2008. Il délaisse ici les cordes pour tenir la baguette et diriger, à Cologne, haut lieu des musiques contemporaines et électroacoustiques, un grand orchestre, sorte de master class qui s’appuie largement sur le James Choice Orchestra, baptisé ici le Multiple Joyce Orchestra (d’où MJQ sur la tranche du digipak!). Il ne s’agit pas d’un big band selon la formation habituelle, mais un assemblage d’instruments divers permettant la plus large palette possible. Ainsi les instruments électroniques sont-ils au premier plan dans Moersbow, pièce qui se déplace en nappes sonores, dédiée au compositeur électronique japonais Merzbow. Mais c’est OZZO, longue composition/proposition en quatre parties d’inégales longueurs, qui occupe l’essentiel du disque. Cette æuvre, qui oscille entre la free music improvisée et la musique contemporaine occidentale, provoque nombre de circulations, flux et reflux, tensions et détentes, passages et superpositions d’instruments. Pas de tempos à proprement parler, mais des interventions instrumentales qui apportent un caractère de jazzité à l’ensemble. Pour cela, Fields s’est appuyé sur quelques solistes réputés, comme les saxophonistes Frank Gratkowski et Matthias Schubert, son partenaire habituel, ou le tubiste Carl Ludwig Hübsch. 

Au total, une musique complexe, chiadée et raffinée, contrastée et souvent délicate et aérienne (forte présence des flûtes, par exemple), qui peut laisser froid l’amateur de jazz, mais que les auditeurs curieux et sensibles aux musiques contemporaines sauront apprécier. — Culture Jazz

Russell Carlson

Song Songs Song

Guitarist Jeff Parker teams with an electric-guitar-equipped Fields for a series of duets on Song Songs Song (Delmark), and, not surprisingly, the results are just as free as Christangelfox — and just as boring. The album opens and closes with pieces by Parker; sandwiched in between are four “Untitled” pieces by Fields where the pair contrast dirty and clean tones (“Untitled, 1968”), share a wealth of dissonant harmonies (“Untitled, 2004”) and spend many minutes trading complicated phrases reminiscent of Parker’s work in the math-rock group Tortoise. The incessant exploration produces not a single memorable moment. Why doesn’t Jeff Parker ditch arty pretension and spend more time honing the group sound of a record like “The Relatives”? —   Jazz Times

Christangelfox

All three players on guitarist Scott Fields’ Christangelfoxare credited as percussionists, clinking and tinkling various instruments that aren’t listed in the notes but are probably akin to anything shiny on the shelves at any Williams-Sonoma. As the clattering, nonenchanting and ceaseless din of the rhythmless percussion hangs in the background, Fields noodles in minor modes on a nylon-string guitar, Guillermo Gregorio drones eerily or chirps curtly on clarinet and the usually excellent cellist Matt Turner bows wilted lines in accompaniment, sounding utterly uninspired. It’s an hour-long stab at creating a stark, abstract landscape that fails because the musicians hardly sound engaged and rely too heavily on the tiresome free-jazz gambit of answering one non-sequitur squawk with another. Christangelfox ends up a waste of time for all concerned. —    Jazz Times

15=15 Plunderplunderphonics

On a dark day last year I had the displeasure to review two recordings that featured guitarist Scott Fields as leader or co-leader. Those leaden releases, which I called “boring” and “just as boring,” not to mention “a compete waste of time,” could not have prepared me for Fields’ brilliant new two-CD set 15=15 Plunderplunderphonics. With restraint I would never expect from Fields, this well executed set is a two-hour-long romp that is almost as kickass as a real, live Batmobile. It could make a Massachusetts liberal whistle Dixie.

On 15=15 Plunderplunderphonics Fields chose tunes rife with melody, tunes which are perfect lines for this exercise in harmonizing with like timbres. Each track is enjoyable. Though his pen still drips ink left over from his days as a pretentious New Music-head in the 90s, Fields’ mind-bending melodies are just the sort of complement needed to create an album that never bores and begs for repeated spins.

15=15 Plunderplunderphonics is rich with references to other works and other cultures. You can hear hints of literally hundreds of familiar riffs. The ensemble’s nutso version of “Michelle” is maybe one of the best Beatles-gone-jazz treatments yet. Later Fields showcases an impeccable sense of time and lets pretty, curly-cue licks blossom in a medley that combines Jerome Kern’s “Yesterdays” with Paul McCartney’s “Yesterday.” And not content to hop on the klezmer bandwagon, Fields directs the album into deeper, darker, less trustworthy corners of the Jewish folk tradition. The tunes on 15=15 Plunderplunderphonics yearn and cry “Oye Vey,” imparting a feeling of spiritual insatiability that sounds and feels very, very Jewish, almost sneakily so.

As a guitarist, Fields flexes his virtuoso chops on 15=15 Plunderplunderphonics, revealing a middle ground between the bop lines of Joe Pass and Django Reinhardt’s Euro-flavored gypsy voodoo. His skills will send young guitarists to the woodshed and cause older ones to consider hanging up the ax forever—Fields is that frustratingly great. The way he can daisy chain quirkily voiced chords and ascend toward ecstasy only to climb back down on a simple, quarter-note run never gets old, even though he does it over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. Guitarheads especially will drool over this one, as he catches up to strike a slightly muted chord as if to say “gotcha,daddy-o” and then sets off again to hunt down his next shivering victim. I’ll be damned if he isn’t hiding a third hand inside one of his suit sleeves. An extended solo during “Tea for Two” that serves as a summary of his style, with dazzling triplet waterfalls, chunk-a-chunk chord vamps and arpeggiations that suggest an extra few fingers on his right hand and perhaps a few more on that hidden third-hand.

The sixth string on the Gibson Scott Fields Signature SF-336 that Fields plays during this set never booms, just as the highs notes never sound too bright. The guitar’s glowing tone—the Gibson SF-336 guitar is the oh-so-rare archtop that guitaraholics dream of just seeing, let alone playing—comes in a tightly contained space that complements Fields’ control. That sustaining, clear-as-rural air SF-336—it’s a shame there aren’t more of those out there to wax records with—will sooth the souls of the hopelessly guitarded, but it should ring gorgeous to anyone’s ears.

Working up a sweat to 15=15 Plunderplunderphonics would be a troublous task. Although the ensemble does offer a decent share of lively grooves, the record exists as more of an introspective love album, lilting and hopeful in spots, agonizingly woeful in others. Rather, playing the role of an urban griot, Fields tries to hip us to the history of jazz. 15=15 Plunderplunderphonics is a storyteller’s work. Yet, the music burns, even if as an ember rather than a blast furnace. If they can capture this kind of energy in the studio, then I’m sure they can produce it before an audience, which means that a night when the Scott Fields Ensemble’s name is on the marquee would be a night well spent. —     Jazz Times

Marco Carcasi

The Diary of Dog Drexel

Four pieces of Scott Fields with addition of a fifth piece assembled by Gregory Taylor using soloist improvisations of the members of band, a zigzagging job this, lost between sour and sweet melodies; child of so many outlines, as well as enormous bursts of fire from the trumpet of Greg Kelley. The breaths of the Nperign school become diluted in a series of melodic contortions that are in fact fascinating, creating solutions certainly not new but surely captivating as few have been. Composition and improvisation keep pace with each other, making swells along the way on evolutions—sometimes very much Coleman-like—of Guillermo Gregorio on alto sax and on clarinet, and in a caustic vein that animates and guides the actions of the good Kelley on the trumpet. In truth there is very little in the way of real ostinati, nervetheless, the first track flows a little strangely, lunar, between pursuing winds and percussion that has a ceramic quality; the discourse changes remarkably in the case of Pissed with its structure perennially in the balance between hysteria and moments of apparent calm where the tension is really palpable before falling headfirst into an abyss of dissonance, sort of ecstatic in form; a kind of ritual emigration guided by the contortions of the winds. The following track, Bummed, churns up new phantoms of the house of Kelley, replacing the roughness that more usually characterizes them with a form much more harmonious and round where each instrumentalist seems concentrated in the desire to create a crafty meditative viewpoint. This is a work that lives on the impulses of the musicians but also on their ability to hold back those impulses in favour of writing that’s sometimes delicate and escaping to where wide spaces can contribute to the creatiion of an evocative and oniriche atmosphere without however ever diminishing a good dose of uncovered nervousness. Agitated reveals itself to be the central nucleus of the work with its structure run through, improbably, by the winds and the percussion and stretched strings, and again pauses and divisions in which discords are revealed to exist in order then to be abandoned, in a vision that, as much as it owes to the past seems also to be projected towards the future, but without the slightest pretention. The piece concludes with Medicated that contrasts with the rest but perhaps precisely in virtue of its difference it seems to be perfectly assigned to close this work in the appropriate manner. Cold without doubt, but necessary to restabilize, after the smoothness of the previous movements, the sacred germ of doubt. The final that loses itself in silence leaves us in possession of a work of remarkable beauty to add to the list of things received. 3½ stars — Kathodik

Christian Carey

Song Songs Song

That said, The Relatives is generally more conventional-sounding than the flights of fancy on Song Songs Song, Parker’s collaboration with experimental guitarist Scott Fields. The CD starts off innocently enough. The Parker-penned “LK 92” pits a low-register, loping, minimal groove against swinging jazz-inflected melodies; the language wouldn’t be out of place on a Metheny or Frisell release. By the album’s second track, the Fields composition “Untitled, 1968, Bing Cherry Juice, KY Jelly, Ketchup on Vellum,” we are off to the races! The piece is a thirteen and a half minute assemblage of various avant-garde trademarks — feedback, atonal soloing, pointillist textures — brought together with a degree of whimsy and improvisatory character. Parker and Fields have a certain chemistry; they manage to find order within the chaos and the various diverse juxtapositions work, delightfully. Even more cohesive is “Untitled, 2004, Dried Blood on gauze, Elastic Strip,” which has a considerably appealing misterioso character; if Webern wrote for two electric guitars, this might be the result! — Signal to Noise

Christangelfox

Fields adopts an unplugged approach, playing nylon-string classical guitar; it is fascinating to hear him, stripped of amplification, effects, and feedback, improvising strictly in the pitch-rhythm domain. One part Stockhausen post-modern chamber music and one part ethnomusicological exploration, Christangelfox is a haunting, sonically beguiling work. — Signal to Noise

Marc Chenárd

Christangelfox

There are some musicians who stand out from the crowd, and guitarist Scott Fields certainly qualifies. Not that his music is overtly provocative or extreme, but there is an unquestionable singularity to his vision, one more readily identifiable as contemporary music rather than jazz or free-form improv. A case in point is this single, flowing, fifty-nine minute piece performed by him, on acoustic guitar, Matt Turner on cello and Guillermo Gregorio, playing only straight b-flat clarinet. More than that, all musicians play percussion, striking what seem to be metal plates or tubing in ways reminiscent of Balinese gamelan ensembles (which the leader himself alludes to in his insightful notes). In doing so, one may well be reminded of John Cage’s translation of Far Eastern musics into the contemporary classical vernacular; there’s an underlying reflective, meditative quality to the work, which is spiked by the clattering percussion passages. While the bulk of the performance is improvised, written passage surface throughout, like signposts along the way of a mysterious journey in time, space and tone color. Accordingly these are never bright and bold, but subdued and dark, yet no less intense, like the deep ultramarine hue that adorns the cover. — Coda Magazine

Justin Cober-Lake

Akra-Kampoj

When guitarists Elliot Sharp and Scott Fields get together, they don’t seem to have any interest in making things easier. Their latest album Akra Kampoj continues their experiment, forsaking traditional structures and sounds for something more questing. Across these eight tracks (four composed by each artist), the duo flit and twitter through tonal experiments, looking more at textures and sounds that can be dragged from electric guitars than anything else.

Much of the album follows the argument set forth by opener “Bagsant”, even if it’s rhythmically steadier than much of what follows. Sharp and Fields use sharp skritches to build up their atmosphere and then to move through it, hinting at but never accepting a groove. In a sense, the play with time and subtle change speaks to an affected version of minimalism, except the guitarists provide an ever persistent presence in their playing, occasionally in technical runs or in surprising feints at song. 

The playing could easily be lost in the ether (“Bagsant” might stick around too long), but the players’ abstractions find roosts across the album. Sharp’s “Pingo” provides the first grounding point. The duo delivers a thicker sound, with hints of noise-rock that almost become something more tangible. Where much of the album skitters, this one grinds – it’s the machine in the ghost. 

“Denisova Stomp” also puts sand on the ice. While it retains the duo’s sense of reach, there are brief moments that loosely connect to more traditional sounds. There’s a mid-piece thrust at krautrock, but Sharp and Fields remain unwilling to resolve it into a groove. Likewise, there’s tense fuzz that sounds like an intro, but instead of collapsing into a 1970s anthem, it turns itself around into a dissipation.

Outside of those few moments, the album mostly relies on quick, nervous guitar work (with built-in breathing space). While the music scuttles forward, there’s an urgency to it. There’s little to no linearity to the compositions, yet they push forward. The album coheres around a general aesthetic more than a sequencing, but the pieces do follow their explorations from “Bagsant” through a proper closing with “Transester”. That closing number holds up steady tones, signifying the closure to come. The piece is as busy at its predecessors, but less frantic, allowing a sort of calm release as it settles at the finish. 

Akra Kampoj is, not surprisingly, another heady album, with its rewards hidden among scattering guitar sounds. If it feints at songs and riffs, the misdirection adds to the pleasures, which aren’t carelessly found, but grow out of shifting tonalities and sonic challenges. — Dusted

Troy Collins

Beckett

Beckett follows in the conceptual footsteps of Mamet (Delmark, 2001), guitarist Scott Fields’ previous project inspired by an author. Tracking the thematic similarities between Beckett’s writing and Fields’ compositions is a tenuous prospect, like any project that yields inspiration from a divergent art form. Nonetheless, the album provides a challenging and rewarding listen on its own, with or without knowledge of its genesis. 

From aleatoric excursions to blistering, jittery free-bop, Fields has an ear for adventurous, unconventional sounds. Christening his work “post-free jazz,” Fields’ complex, multi-part compositions reveal themselves gradually, providing ample room for solo expression and unified thematic development. Packed with intricate counterpoint and tight group interplay, these labyrinthine works blur the line between the composed and the improvised with kaleidoscopic, pre-written passages and dense, free-wheeling improvisations. 

Joining him for the first time are three new collaborators. Ubiquitous percussionist John Hollenbeck is a fountainhead of unique textures and unconventional rhythms, his pneumatic inventions contribute an array of percussive wonder to the session. Tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert blends fervent angularity with a flighty, mercurial zeal, especially during his spasmodic tirade on the agitated “What Where.” Cellist Scott Roller employs a diverse approach, blending a sober, singing tone with a scathing bow attack. His lyrical turn on the pensive introspection of “Come and Go” is as delicately melodious as his assertive assault on “What Where” is jarring. The leader shines in this spartan context, his bright tone accenting a razor sharp fusillade of notes one minute, genteel chords the next (sometimes together), as on the zany swing of “Rockaby.” 

Although conceptual allusions to literature might suggest haughty pretension, Beckett is actually Fields’ most varied and swinging record in years. Even at their most abstract, these are engaging compositions, bolstered by zealous group interaction, rich harmonic ingenuity and stunning dynamic range. Like the work of its dedicatee, one listen to this album won’t do it justice. — All About Jazz

Samuel

The works of Samuel Beckett have been a recurrent source of inspiration for guitarist Scott Fields. Samuel is Fields’ second effort at conveying the master’s prose through pure sound, following Beckett (Clean Feed, 2007). Transposing the original text of Beckett’s plays into precise pitches, chords and time signatures, Fields transforms Beckett’s wordplay into melodies and harmonies that share more than a passing resemblance to jazz. Despite their cerebral origins and abstruse character, the ensuing works are in fact fairly accessible.

Eschewing pure free improvisation in favor of advanced compositional structures, Fields has long been an advocate of composer Stephen Dembski’s post-serial harmonic system, which uses multiple tone rows to construct non-tonal scales. The subtle dissonances, odd intervals and angular melodies of Fields’ writing provide him and his sidemen with a bevy of timbre and pitch choices, lending their improvisations an oblique, enthralling character.

Joined by tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert, cellist Scott Roller and percussionist John Hollenbeck, Fields and company extrapolate three of Beckett’s emotionally claustrophobic plays into evocative sound portraits. Fields’ abstract compositions seamlessly fuse elaborate counterpoint, odd time signatures and unorthodox arrangements with sections of controlled group interplay, blurring the line between the written and the improvised.

Encapsulating a range of emotions, the episodic “Not I” careens with fervid angularity and bustling agitation while “Ghost Trio” ebbs with cinematic intrigue. Mirroring the play, “Not I” is structured around a series of repeated motifs, allowing each musician a chance to solo, with particular attention paid to Schubert, who leads the piece with an array of effusive, histrionic variations. Although “Ghost Trio” was originally coined in honor of Beethoven’s Fifth Piano Trio, Fields avoids the obvious, setting the piece as a languid jazz ballad with noir overtones, showcasing the quartet’s introspective side with a string of spare, bluesy meditations. “Eh Joe” is the album’s conceptual centerpiece, progressively building from hushed pointillism to a strident, rock-inflected unison theme, emulating the original teleplay’s escalating inner drama.

In league with Beckett, and earlier still, Mamet (Delmark, 2001), Samuel is another winning transposition of the written word into instrumental sonorities. Buoyed by fervid group interplay and compelling lyrical invention, these harmonically audacious and challenging compositions offer a wealth of ideas, much like the work of their dedicatee. — All About Jazz

Bitter Love Songs

While the sardonic album title alludes to a session fraught with rancorous despair, guitarist Scott Fields’ Bitter Love Songs is, perhaps ironically, one of his most accessible efforts. Born in Chicago, but now based in Cologne, Germany, Fields recorded this date in his new home town with German bassist Sebastian Gramss and Portuguese drummer João Lobo. An iconoclast who favors unusual instrumental combinations, this is his first guitar trio recording since Mamet (Delmark, 2001), with bassist Michael Formanek and drummer Michael Zerang.

In the scathing liner notes Fields explains that the unsettled themes, fitful rhythms and grating dissonances elicited by the trio are intended to invoke the nerve-wracking nausea that accompanies the impending dissolution of romance. While all of these traits are present, they are often fairly subtle; in contrast to his exotic conceptual projects, this loose trio session is actually somewhat conventional.

With Fields as the principle soloist, Gramss and Lobo follow the guitarist’s lead, providing stirring rhythmic accompaniment that vacillates in tempo from casual to frantic. The majority of the tunes saunter at a buoyant mid-tempo clip with periods of intermittent turbulence. Occasionally reaching a fevered pitch, but never boiling over, the trio generates a more agreeable mood than one would expect from such song titles as “My Love Is Love, Your Love Is Hate” and “Your Parents Must Be Just Ecstatic Now.” Only “I Was Good Enough for You Until Your Friends Butted In” breaks form with a languorous abstract blues.

A proponent of structured improvisation based on tone row manipulation, Fields conveys his enigmatic statements with focused intensity. He fires rapid salvoes of knotty linear cadences at regular staccato intervals from his clean-toned hollow body. At his most feverish, he conjures blistering chromatic note clusters as he scuttles across his fretboard. Together, Gramss’ elastic walking bass patterns, Lobo’s shuffling trap set ruminations and Fields’ thorny commentary coil into a kaleidoscopic mosaic of expressionistic interplay.

Despite the derisive title, Bitter Love Songs is a compelling example of modern jazz guitar improvisation supported by an empathetic rhythm section. For aficionados of unfettered guitar traditions, this is essential listening. — All About Jazz

Song Songs Song

Quite possibly one of the most adventurous records yet to emerge from the highly respected jazz and blues label, Delmark, Song Songs Song pushes the limits of what can easily be considered traditional jazz improvisation. Jazz guitarists Jeff Parker and Scott Fields play with and against each other in a studio session that will certainly be remembered for its risk taking elements. Guitarist Jeff Parker, known for his work with numerous projects including Tortoise, Isotope 217, The Chicago Underground pairs up with Scott Fields, a free jazz guitarist and composer who has hovered around the avant garde jazz scene since the late 1960’s. These two play a sequence of pieces that run from the melodic to the downright dissonant. Book ended by Parker’s more delicate pastoral pieces, the bulk of the record finds the two guitarists in stop and go pointillistic free debate. Volume pedal swells, scraped strings and distorted chromatic runs all fly by as the guitarists play an endless game of cat and mouse. Melodic fragments emerge from the pieces, but are just a quickly discarded to explore more textural territory. Call and response improvisation is the conceptual backbone of this session. One can almost visualize the two sitting side by side copying runs from one another, then abstracting them, before turning them inside out and playing them back again. Not an easy listen for those with pre-conceived notions of what jazz improvisation should sound like, Song Songs Song is a brave release on Delmark’s part and makes for perfect blindfold test material. Play this one for your guitar geek friends and see if they can guess even one of the players. — Junk Media

Dénouement

Chicago-based guitarist Scott Fields most successful projects, such as Mamet (Delmark, 2001), and Beckett (Clean Feed, 2007), offer a novel merger of structured improvisation inspired by literary sources, this album included. Recorded in 1997 and previously available only on Fields’ own tiny Geode label, this session sat dormant for ten years before this Clean Feed reissue.

Dénouement features a unique double ensemble; two electric guitar trios playing in tandem, but rarely in unison. In 1997, Fields’ working trio consisted of bassist Hans Sturm and drummer Hamid Drake. Fellow Midwesterners, bassist Jason Roebke and drummer Michael Zerang pilot the second trio with guitarist Jeff Parker. Five years before his solo debut, Like-Coping (Delmark, 2003), Parker demonstrates the lyrical finesse and adventurous risk-taking that has brought him acclaim as part of the new Chicago scene.

Using multiple pitch sets and compound rhythmic figures to create an off-kilter sensibility, Fields creates a complex mosaic of contrapuntal lines and cross-rhythms. Modulating dynamics with nuance and relaxed pacing, the ensemble meanders from austere chamber-esque duets exploring pointillist dialogue to dense collective passages that unfurl knotty tendrils of abstruse commentary fueled by angular, interlocking rhythms. To his credit, these layered compositions feel unforced, belying their structural intricacy.

Intertwining with graceful subtlety, the two trios navigate similar paths without drifting in cacophonous discourse. Drake and Zerang’s elastic rhythms skirt between skittering harmonic accents and fulminating energy, while Roebke and Sturm occasionally alternate techniques, bowing fractured double stops and sonorous arco glisses or plucking metered pizzicato.

Fields and Parker offer a kaleidoscopic array of scintillating tonal colors and subtle electronic textures. Less EFX dependent than many electric guitarists, they rely on sensitivity of touch and phrasing for their sound, rather than twiddling knobs on stomp boxes. Employing a variety of approaches, from pensive, linear patterns to blistering fretwork exuding jittery bursts of atonality, they complement and contrast each other with remarkable restraint and a seething undercurrent of roiling energy.

Fields’ darkly humorous song titles allude to the uncertain resolutions of morose, convoluted narratives, much like his own compositions. Intricate, but not overly esoteric, Dénouement is a welcome reissue and a high water mark in Fields’ varied discography. — All About Jazz

Julian Cowley

The Diary of Dog Drexel

“My name would be ‘Dog Drexel,’” confides guitarist Scott Fields in his online biography, explaining the title. From the Diary of Dog Drexel comprises four compositions called “Conflicted,” “Pissed,” “Bummed,” and “Agitated.” You might justifiably conclude that Fields has concocted a grungy soundtrack to an imagined life of sleaze. But you’d be wrong, though it’s certainly fraught with tension and brittle attitude. Evolved from the system of generating non-tonal scales Fields has worked with since entering the orbit of composer Stephen Dembski, this harmonically ambivalent music often evokes unease.

Dembski conducts a quintet featuring Fields on electric and nylon-stringed acoustic guitar, Greg Kelley on trumpet, Guillermo Gregorio on alto sax and clarinet, Kyle Bruckmann on oboe and English horn and Carrie Biolo on vibraphone, marimba, crotales, and unpitched percussion. There’s a cut-glass feel to the ensemble: multifaceted, hard-edged, and refractive. Luminous with the shimmer of vibes, they can sour when the reeds clash, defiant when the trumpet asserts itself, or angry and threatening when Fields’s guitar growls and lashes out.

A fifth track, “Medicated,” is credited to all five players plus Gregory Taylor who processed materials from their improvising. Its meltdown of definition into more fundamental ambivalence, volatile temperaments, and even the remnants of Fields’s spiteful soloing, dosed and deliquescing into computer-generated numbness, make for a fitting conclusion. — The Wire

Maurizio Comandini

Sharfefelder

I percorsi dei due chitarristi d’avanguardia Elliott Sharp e Scott Fields sono piuttosto differenti, anche se indubbiamente si possono trovare alcuni punti in comune. Sharp è una delle espressioni più importanti e coerenti della scena downtown newyorkese e mette assieme progetti di amplissimo spettro che lo vedono passare dal blues arcaico rivisitato alla sperimentazione più radicale. Scott Fields è meno noto ma è una delle risorse più importanti della scena di Chicago, anche se da molti anni preferisce rimanere piuttosto defilato. 

In questa occasione hanno scelto di chiudersi in una stanza, accendere i registratori, guardarsi negli occhi, senza prendere particolari accordi. Ognuno ha messo a disposizione una serie di composizioni spesso basate su sistemi di notazione inusuali, che pescano dalla grafica e dalla poesia. Poi hanno tirato fuori le chitarre acustiche e hanno dato il via all’esplorazione dei rispettivi mondi, cercando di compenetrarli, di rivoltarli, di scardinarli. Senza rispetto e senza paura. 

In situazioni come questa la consuetudine ad affrontare l’ignoto senza mai perdersi d’animo è il necessario grimaldello che può aprire tutte le porte e i due chitarristi si muovono con il giusto mix di creatività, capacità di ascoltare e sensibilità nel rispondere alle sollecitazioni. E il risultato è di ottimo livello, un vero e proprio manifesto per l’improvvisazione a due, indipendentemente dallo strumento utilizzato. Allo stesso tempo l’ascoltatore smaliziato riesce a ricreare nella propria mente una mappa piuttosto precisa per identificare gli scenari legati alle possibilità di forzatura timbrica delle chitarre acustiche, come non mai capaci di diventare fonti di ritmo, di suoni, di brandelli tematici che compaiono qua e là come per magia. 3.5 stelle — All About Jazz, Italy

Song Songs Song

Il primo brano di questo album proposto da un duo di chitarristi radicali e visionari potrebbe trarre in inganno: il clima è molto quieto, minimalista, quasi da cantilena per un asilo nido progressivo della bassa padana. Ma poi non mancano gli sconquassi, le deflorazioni della materia sonora, le improvvise accelerazioni che favoriscono le escursioni fuori dal sentiero conosciuto. Perchè questi due temerari non ne vogliono proprio sapere di mantenere la strada conosciuta. No. Loro vogliono proprio smarrirsi nel suono e quindi non danno retta ai proverbi e alle consuetudini e vanno a cercarsi guai nei fuori pista, nei crinali dove la roccia affiora fra la neve e le tracce di sangue rosseggiano nel bianco abbacinante e sovraesposto. 

Jeff Parker lascia da parte l’abituale arsenale di elettronica e di vecchi synth analogici che è solito abbinare alla chitarra nei suoi mille progetti che lo trascinano dai Tortoise al Chicago Underground Trio e Quartet, dagli Isotope 217 al gruppo di Ted Sirota e così via. Scott Fields approfitta dell’occasione per utilizzare una nuova chitarra che la Gibson ha deciso di produrre nella sua serie Signature, per l’appunto con il coinvolgimento, in sede di design e scelte costruttive, del cinquantacinquenne chitarrista di Chicago, ormai emigrato a Colonia. Una interessante variazione della classica ES336 che diventa SF336, dove SF sta ovviamente per Scott Fields. 

I due chitarristi avevano già collaborato assieme nel disco Denoument del 1999, ma in quel caso il gruppo era un doppio trio con l’aggiunta delle batterie di Hamid Drake e Michael Zerang e dei bassi di Jason Roebke e Hans Sturm. Qui invece li troviamo in perfetta solitudine, faccia a faccia nella classica situazione del duo di chitarre che ne esalta le doti di improvvisatori attenti e allo stesso tempo senza inibizioni, pronti a far scoppiare le energie nascoste tra le corde delle loro chitarre e le valvole dei loro amplificatori, non disdegnando l’utilizzo di arnesi ‘esterni’, come ben dimostra la foto di copertina che vede Fields impegnato a titillare la sua SF336 con un archetto da violino. Le sei composizioni presentate sono originali. Parker firma la prima e ultima, pi brevi e minimaliste, mentre le altre quattro arrivano da Fields e sono ben più lunghe, elaborate e strutturate, almeno nelle modalità esecutive dell'improvvisazione. 

La musica borbotta, scatarra, impallidisce, trattiene il fiato, si incunea in strane situazioni, ma poi viene fuori a pieno respiro, coi polmoni che soffiano via i grumi e riprendono a pompare ossigeno nel sistema. Il gap generazionale non si avverte più di tanto, anche se la leadership sembra più nel versante di Fields e in qualche modo Jeff Parker sembra voler pagare una sorta di debito verso il chitarrista della generazione precedente alla sua. Un dialogo fra due mondi che si intersecano e si sommano, in una libera esternazione che non si fa mancare sottigliezze e aree di meditazione ma che per la maggior parte del tempo brucia come una sventagliata di vetriolo. Copritevi bene! 3.5 stelle — All About Jazz, Italy

Mamet

La Delmark Records di Chicago, diretta con solide intenzioni dal veterano Bob Koester, da una parte continua a tenere desta la tradizione, sia in campo jazzistico che nei territori del blues di Chicago, e dall'altra infila preziose perle alla collana dell'avanguardia. 

Il lavoro in trio qui presentato appartiene certamente a quest'ultimo filone. 

Scott Fields un valente chitarrista che si inserisce nella direzione gi intrapresa da Joe Morris e da altri chitarristi poco interessati sia al filone del jazz-rock e della fusion, sia alla corrente centrale della chitarra jazz ben rappresentata da Jim Hall e dai suoi epigoni. 

Le cinque lunghe composizioni contenute in questo bel CD sono state tutte composte da Scott Fields e presentano situazioni che oscillano fra l'avanguardia pi radicale e momenti pi rilassati dove la destrutturazione ritmica e tonale di base si stemperano e si acquietano. I titoli dei brani sono tutti presi da lavori del grande sceneggiatore americano David Mamet, autore di lavori sia per il teatro che per cinema e TV. 

L'approccio di Fields decisamente inusuale. Non si limita a trarre una ispirazione generica dai lavori teatrali di Mamet ma li utilizza come canovaccio tematico per le cinque composizioni. Prende alcune parti dalle sceneggiature e le viviseziona affidando per esempio la parte della voce femminile alla chitarra e quella della voce maschile al basso di Michael Formanek. Le frasi melodiche delle composizioni cercano di seguire il dettato ritmico delle battute scritte che ovviamente sono solo evocate, essendo il disco completamente strumentale. 

I testi di David Mamet sono comunque allegati da Scott Fields agli spartiti, in modo che i musicisti siano consapevoli dello scenario che il leader intende evocare. L'approccio di Fields alla chitarra ricorda molto quello di Bern Nix, eccellente chitarrista, alla corte di Ornette Coleman per alcuni anni, e ora attivo, anche se piuttosto defilato, sulla scena downtown newyorkese. Un approccio che ci piace pi definire come una variante tonale di un universo parallelo piuttosto che come atonale. Diciamo che la tonalit a cui fanno riferimento questi musicisti non la stessa tonalit sulla quale si basa la musica occidentale di stampo tradizionale. 

Ne scaturiscono melodie stralunate, a volte aspre ma spesso colme di fascino e di una loro cantabilit interiore, non priva di ingenuit . L'apporto dei due ritmi di altissimo livello e il trio si muove organicamente senza farsi condizionare dalle regole e dai pregiudizi. Ovviamente i tre mantengono campo aperto anche alle situazioni che presentano momenti decisamente sperimentali, quando i suoni chiamati ingiustamente rumori si affacciano curiosamente e menano la danza per lunghi tratti e il batterista Michael Zerang si trova a percuotere di tutto. 

Una menzione particolare va alla bellissima foto di Whitney Bradshaw che campeggia in copertina e che rende molto bene le atmosfere evocate dalla musica contenuta nel disco. 4 stelle — All About Jazz, Italy

This That

Scott Fields, valente chitarrista d'avanguardia americano alle soglie dei cinquant'anni, nelle note di copertina di questo eccellente CD, coglie l'occasione per raccontarci, con grande senso dello humor e dell'understatement, alcuni dettagli della sua tormentata vita di studente, negli anni sessanta, a Chicago. 

Non proprio uno studente modello, si trovò a dover passare dalle mani di un terapeuta che, dopo alcune sedute, scoprì che i problemi dello studente bricconcello derivavano da un difetto alla vista. Dopo tantissimi anni, finalmente una recente operazione agli occhi con la tecnica della laser terapia parrebbe avere posto definitivamente rimedio a questo difetto congenito e ha dato a Fields il pretesto per giocare con le permutazioni linguistiche che si possono applicare alle due parole “this” (questo) e “that” (quello) per poi formare i titoli degli otto movimenti che compongono questa sorta di suite che cavalca con grande intensità e passione le strade dell'improvvisazione e della instant composition. 

Il chitarrista, nato a Chicago nel 1952 e da oltre vent'anni residente nel Wisconsin, ha deciso di chiamare tutte le sue formazioni, siano esse composte da un paio di elementi o decisamente allargate, come nel caso del recente 96 Gestures [per leggerne la recensione clicca qui], con il nome “Ensemble”, un omaggio dichiarato all'Art Ensemble of Chicago, gruppo che gli ha fornito parecchio materiale su cui riflettere negli anni formativi della sua giovinezza, appassionatamente vissuti sotto l'egida dell'AACM. In questo caso ci troviamo di fronte ad un trio, come in occasione dell'eccellente Mamet [per leggerne la recensione clicca qui] uscito alcuni mesi fa per la Delmark Records. Anziché avere basso e batteria, come in quel caso, abbiamo violoncello e percussioni, affidate rispettivamente a Peggy Lee e a Dylan Van der Schyff, due canadesi emergenti, marito e moglie nella vita e ottima coppia anche da un punto di vista artistico. 

I tre si integrano a meraviglia e la lunga suite muove con grande intensità da situazioni decisamente minimali, con i suoni che si rincorrono sussurrando dolcemente, a momenti di grande energia che si scatena come se le forze della natura avessero deciso di innestarsi magicamente fra le corde e le pelli degli strumenti usati in queste registrazioni. Le dinamiche sono dilatate in maniera splendida e la musica respira con grande vigore, mostrando scenari fortemente evocativi, paesaggi sui generis, accostamenti di colori del tutto inconsueti. 

Come già in 96 Gestures il percussionista Van der Schyff si propone come uno dei più interessanti giovani batteristi in giro, assolutamente attento a raccogliere tutte le possibilità lanciate dagli altri strumenti per controbattere con soluzioni sempre originali, sia dal punto di vista della frammentazione ritmica che dal punto di vista delle scelte timbriche, che riescono sempre a spiazzare l'ascoltatore e probabilmente anche i partner. 

La violoncellista Peggy Lee è sempre pronta a raccogliere la sfida delle intuizioni armonico-ritmiche del chitarrista, tessendo corpose fasce sonore che prendono l'abbrivio da fondali sempre dinamici per giungere a momenti in cui il proscenio è conquistato con decisione. La dote principale di Scott Fields è quella di riuscire a stare a cavallo dell'improvvisazione con grande intelligenza e capacità di interazione con i suoi partner. A differenza di altri musicisti, non ha paura di entrare ed uscire da situazioni anche vagamente tonali, piccoli frammenti melodici che appaiono qua e là, inconsueti e improvvisi, del tutto anomali, ma profumati e piacevolmente delicati, piccole anse entro le quali riprendere il fiato e ricomporsi, in questo tormentato viaggio dentro una suite piena di situazioni in cui il respiro rimane quasi sempre sospeso e incantato. 5 stelle — All About Jazz, Italy

96 Gestures

Le tre performance contenute negli altrettanti CD che compongono questo cofanetto ci offrono ben duecento minuti di musica profondamente improvvisata, ma guidata da regole ben precise con le quali i musicisti sono sempre tenuti a confrontarsi. Il leader il chitarrista di Chicago Scott Fields, qui alla testa di un ensemble composto da dodici eccellenti musicisti e da un conduttore chiamato ad interagire con le strutture compositive e a coinvolgere in qualche modo nell'improvvisazione anche il proprio ruolo. 

Il contesto quello di un free jazz molto moderno, illuminato da ottimi interpreti e innervato da fantasiose regole strutturali che consentono alla musica di stare aggrappata ad una efficace spina dorsale che pare sempre sul punto di spezzarsi ma che in realt dimostra la propria capacit vitale di rigenerarsi organicamente ad ogni scossone e ad ogni angolo imprevedibilmente complicato. 

Sono tre diverse variazioni di un progetto compositivo basato su 96 “gestures” (frammenti cinematici di musica scritta) che il conduttore e i musicisti sono liberi di ricomporre in mille modi, con l'intento di creare un puzzle informale in cui i pezzi sembrano magicamente aderire sempre l'uno all'altro, mostrando combinazioni di colori e di forme mai ascoltate in precedenza. 

Il tutto si dipana come una sequenza di libere improvvisazioni guidate che si propongono come un'autorevole proposta di studio e di interpretazione, sia da parte dei musicisti che da parte degli ascoltatori. La presenza di veterani dell'avanguardia come Joseph Jarman e Myra Melford, del cornettista Rob Mazurek (noto a Chicago per i suoi lavori trasversali coi Tortoise, gli Isotope 217 e la saga del Chicago Underground Duo divenuto Trio e poi Quartet, senza dimenticare la versione come Orchestra), degli emergenti Fran ois Houle e Dylan Van Der Schyff, molto attivi in quel di Vancouver, e degli altri ottimi interpreti guidati dal conduttore Stephen Dembski, una chiara indicazione di come il leader Scott Fields abbia accuratamente scelto gli interpreti di questo viaggio all'interno di inconsuete strutture, per poter garantire un costante flusso di idee che sono assolutamente indispensabili per mantenere sempre la tensione creativa su livelli ottimali. 

Scott Fields, nato a Chicago il 30 settembre del 1952, residente nel Wisconsin dal 1976, un chitarrista che si distinto sin dagli anni settanta nei gruppi pi sperimentali che si facevano notare nell'eccitante clima creatosi a seguito della forte azione svolta a Chicago dall'AACM. 

Scomparso in qualche modo dalla scena musicale alla fine degli anni settanta, ritornato fuori recentemente con progetti molto interessanti e con l'eccellente Mamet da poco uscito per la Delmark [per leggerne la recensione clicca qui], dove si esibisce in trio con grande maturit e intelligenza. Anche in questo progetto dimostra di essere un musicista concettualmente sofisticato e con forti doti di leadership. Questa esperienza di ensemble allargato si configura come una mappa territoriale di un luogo della mente difeso da una immaginaria linea Maginot che l'ascoltatore deve decisamente violare per entrare in un mondo governato da regole mutevoli che si prendono il compito di dirigere lo scorrere dei suoni che fluiscono da ogni lato e che si dirigono da ogni parte. Portatevi una bussola...4 stelle — All About Jazz, Italy

Moersbow/OZZO

Scott Fields lascia da parte la chitarra e si concentra nella conduzione di questo ampio ensemble di musicisti, principalmente tedeschi, alle prese con alcune sue composizioni. La musica è stata registrata dal vivo in un piccolo locale di Colonia, il 25 gennaio del 2009. 

Il primo brano è dedicato ad un compositore di musica elettronica giapponese (Masami Akita noto come Merzbow) mentre gli altri quattro brani sono una sorta di suite destinata a gruppi di improvvisazione da camera, alla quale Fields sta lavorando da tempo. 

La chiave di questa interpretazione va individuata nella decisione di cercare di lavorare nel regime delle dinamiche basse, anche per contrastare una delle caratteristiche fondamentali del lavoro del musicista giapponese omaggiato. Quest’ultimo infatti è ben noto per l’utilizzo di suoni/rumori ad altissimo volume. Allo stesso tempo un refuso sulle locandine tedesche (Quiet Large Ensemble invece che Quite Large Ensemble) ha fatto propendere per una scelta di volumi contenuti anche per i quattro movimenti di OZZO. 

Contrasti e casualità: due componenti che bisogna saper ben manipolare per uscirne senza le ossa rotte. Un esperto navigatore dell’improvvisazione come Scott Fields lo fa ovviamente senza problemi, ben coadiuvato da un eccellente gruppo di musicisti fra i quali spiccano il saxofonista Frank Gratkowski e l’esperto bassista Achim Tang. — All About Jazz, Italy

Mark Corroto

Beckett

The guitarist Scott Fields provides a tribute to Samuel Beckett with a dense and challenging bit of chamber jazz or maybe modern classical/free music that he describes as “post-free jazz” and “exploratory music.” His concept of tightly packed compositions with noisy breaches of the oft times violent surface tempts the outer reaches of sound. Perfectly matched by the overtly quirky drummer, John Hollenbeck, these odd structures ask many musical questions, and sometimes provide answers. — All About Jazz

Minaret Minuets

Applying laser to Minaret Minuets (or playing the download), from electric guitarist Scott Fields and tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert, recalls the early days of mono-into-stereo recordings. Back then you might hear the saxophonist coming from just one speaker. Where you sat in relation to your hi-fi set up was paramount. By unplugging one channel you would be able to create your own solo session. With Fields and Schubert, both strong soloists, you might be tempted to do the same, but, alas, modern engineers blend the channels for balanced listening. 

Fields, an American free jazz player from 1960s’ Chicago, has transformed into a complex thinker and organizer of structured and intricate group interactions and improvisations. He moved to Germany a few years back and began working in Schubert’s jazz orchestra. The two have also collaborated on Fields’ ensemble recording, Beckett (Clean Feed, 2007), with John Hollenbeck and Scott Roller. 

What stands out here is the multiple simple gestures made by each musician. Be it a saxophone’s flutter and breath or a guitar’s string of notes, each produces sounds that seem to shimmer or glow before dwindling away. The pair apply more space than might be expected. Is it in deference to the other? Perhaps. Maybe that is why the ear is drawn to a single speaker. Focusing on just one player would cause you to ignore the superb interaction of forces here. — All About Jazz

François Couture

Samuel

Samuel is the follow-up to the Scott Fields Ensemble’s 2007 release Beckett on the Clean Feed label. Both albums feature Scott Fields’ compositions based on plays by Samuel Beckett. Not “inspired by,” but “based on”; Fields derives his scores (pitches, chords, rhythms, etc.) from the author’s words and narrative devices. At least, that is what the liner notes state. Clearly, Fields is not using these processes as the be-all and end-all of his music, which transcends such preparations. The listener hears little of that in the music itself and, if he or she chooses to bypass the liner notes, will not pick up on it. Fascinating as it may be, these processes don’t get in the way of what turns out to be three highly complex compositions of avant-garde jazz, for lack of a better term. The composed aspect of the music is obvious, even though free improvisation plays a key part in the proceedings: unisons and stop-go cues abound, harmonic material is developed much too subtly and delicately to not have been planned ahead, heads pop up in unlikely places. We are somewhere between the large-scale compositions of U.K. bassist Simon H. Fell (mostly his Compilation series) and John Zorn’s contemporary classical works. “Ghost Trio” has a slightly jazzier feel while “Eh Joe” is a bit more abstract at first, but all three pieces (the other one is titled “Not I”) have one foot in free jazz, the other in non-idiomatic improvisation, and a third one (oh, it’s unique enough to have grown a third foot) in a still little-charted territory of very serious non-classical modern composition — akin to Fred Frith or Jean Derome’s most ambitious works. Tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert often assumes the lead melody, with Fields counterpointing on the electric guitar (his interventions sound random at first, but close listening quickly reveals an inner logic). Scott Roller shifts back and forth between a bassist’s role and a soloist’s role. Drummer John Hollenbeck is mostly playing in free improvisation mode, with short episodes of swing, and a noticeable rock-out passage toward the end of “Eh Joe” where he gets to use the kind of chops his Claudia Quintet is based on. Samuel is not an easy record, but the level of musicianship, composition, and ensemble playing commands respect, admiration, and an award. It is also quite addictive, as each listen reveals new details of the work’s architecture. 4½ stars — All Music Guide

This That

First of all, This That is an unlikely release for the San Diego-based avant-garde label Accretions, because Scott Fields has no ties with the “Trummerflora Collective.” That being said, label director Marcos Fernandes took a wise decision to release this very strong CD. For this studio recording, the Scott Fields Ensemble was a trio, cellist Peggy Lee and drummer Dylan van der Schyff (both from Vancouver, Canada) following the guitarist in a series of structured improvisations. This match-up proves to be particularly successful. Lee and Schyff know each other by heart, their chemistry has reached a commanding level. Moreover, Fields’ loose compositions and penned-down segments are stylistically closely related to the projects they were involved with during the 1990s, from Talking Pictures to François Houle and Tony Wilson’s groups. So This Thatends up sounding like a cousin of the Vancouver avant-garde jazz scene. Some of these tracks follow specific contrasts, textures, or structures, while others have written heads. But the compositional work usually remains seamless (except for the obvious tutti lines). Fields is in very good shape. His dislocated melodies find a sympathetic soul in Lee’s lyrical cello playing in “That Isn’t This.” In “This Isn’t That” he throws in an impressive solo. This That may not have a star-studded line-up like Five Frozen Eggs (with Marilyn Crispell and Hamid Drake), but it sure delivers the goods — and if you have never heard the free improv unit of Lee and Schyff, this is your chance. Strongly recommended. — All Music Guide

Julian Cowley

From the Diary of Dog Drexel

“My name would be ‘Dog Drexel,’” confides guitarist Scott Fields in his online biography, explaining the title. From the Diary of Dog Drexel comprises four compositions called “Conflicted,” “Pissed,” “Bummed,” and “Agitated.” You might justifiably conclude that Fields has concocted a grungy soundtrack to an imagined life of sleaze. But you’d be wrong, though it’s certainly fraught with tension and brittle attitude. Evolved from the system of generating non-tonal scales Fields has worked with since entering the orbit of composer Stephen Dembski, this harmonically ambivalent music often evokes unease.

Dembski conducts a quintet featuring Fields on electric and nylon-stringed acoustic guitar, Greg Kelley on trumpet, Guillermo Gregorio on alto sax and clarinet, Kyle Bruckmann on oboe and English horn and Carrie Biolo on vibraphone, marimba, crotales, and unpitched percussion. There’s a cut-glass feel to the ensemble: multifaceted, hard-edged, and refractive. Luminous with the shimmer of vibes, they can sour when the reeds clash, defiant when the trumpet asserts itself, or angry and threatening when Fields’s guitar growls and lashes out.

A fifth track, “Medicated,” is credited to all five players plus Gregory Taylor who processed materials from their improvising. Its meltdown of definition into more fundamental ambivalence, volatile temperaments, and even the remnants of Fields’s spiteful soloing, dosed and deliquescing into computer-generated numbness, make for a fitting conclusion. — The Wire

96 Gestures

Fields has said that his use of the word ‘Ensemble’ pays homage to The Art Ensemble of his native Chicago, rather than being a means to identify a particular group of musicians. The personnel lined up behind the name has varied wildly. Van der Schyff recurs on 96 Gestures but as part of a 12-piece group steered by conductor Stephen Dembski. Among the other members are alto saxophonist Joseph Jarman, pianist Myra Melford, clarinetist François Houle and Rob Mazurek on cornet. The composition is a structure of cued modules giving leads that encourage improvisation. Outcome can vary considerably as these three realizations, each more than an hour long, demonstrate well. Common to all three is a sense of fluency, lightness and mobility, multiple events and constant activity without unwanted snarls or messy collisions. Ostensibly very different to This That, and on a label subsidiary to CRI, which has for many years championed contemporary compositions, 96 Gestures nonetheless shares points of contact in its questioning repetitions and variations, its (more formal) permutatory maneuvers and the sense that no concluding gesture can ever be more than provisional. Fields’s choice of collaborators has been one of his strengths. Here it ensures sensitive playing and accurate reading that align the piece with substantial work by the likes of Butch Morris, Anthony Braxton, and John Zorn seeking ways to sustain and extend creative relationships between composed forms and alert improvising. — The Wire

This That

Scott Fields is an electric guitarist who can go for the jugular while shouldering same fairly hefty conceptual baggage. His squally eruptions on This That suggest an intelligent and ironic man giving vent to seething anger and frustration. But this trio recording in the sympathetic company of cellist Peggy Lee and drummer Dylan van der Schyff is by no means all spleen. Much of the album has a probing feel, quietly teasing apart modest phrases and motifs that are firmly established at the start then continuously revised and elaborated. The three players circle around the core material kneading and tugging until it has stretched into a piece that can be called “This is This,” “That is This,” or “That is That.” The reversible titles accurately reflect music that seems conclusive but is primed to unravel in order to begin again. Despite the assertive tone, nothing is ever definitively stated because it can always be said otherwise, as in all successful improvising. — The Wire

Dénouement

Each performer preserves a distinct identity as the music unfolds. The lines frequently converge as a phrase or harmonic configuration is picked up and echoed in the course of another current, but those nodes never arrest the forward motion, or blur the internal contours of the music. It’s a long album, arguable, after the first few listens, a little too long given its evenness, But it is also insidious, spiked with subtle temptations to play it again. — The Wire

Nate Dorward

christangelfox

Fields likes to devise purposely meaningless catchphrases for his music — his latest is “transparent music.” I guess I’ll rise to the bait: that seems to me a pretty good description of his admirably lucid hour-long chamber-trio piece christangelfox. The band consists of Fields (on nylon-string guitar), clarinettist Guillermo Gregorio and cellist Matt Turner, all three of whom also make use of a “percussion array”: four pieces of scrap metal donated by a sculptor friend, four pieces of stone, four pieces of wood. Despite the disc’s striking title, the music is not especially devotional: this is the sound of calm thought rather than prayer. It’s a rapt nocturne — languid and whimsical, full of soft hoots, wistful cries, and flintstone-spark showers of plinks and clanks. Boundaries become blurred: improvisation and composition are virtually impossible to tell apart, and the piece’s even, unhesitating inner pulse overrides the usual distinctions between free time and meter. You hear this pulse most clearly in an eight-minute episode at the piece’s centre that sounds like an anxious, sped-up version of Messiaen’s “Louange à l’Éternité de Jésus.” (Maybe there’s something to the disc’s devotional title after all….) The homemade percussion becomes more sporadic from this point on, and as the mood becomes darker and intenser one almost misses its cheerful, irritating jangle. In the end the piece doesn’t so much resolve as come to rest, the piece’s now-familiar themes restated softly and less surely, the musicians spinning them out finer and finer until at last they break. At times christangelfox recalls Gavin Bryars (“Allegrasco,” especially) or Morton Feldman, or some of the AACM’s gentler excursions, but basically this is completely sui generis. “Transparent music”? Maybe you could call it mood music — though what mood, I couldn’t possibly say. You’ll just have to listen and find out. — Cadence Magazine

Nicolas Dourlhès

The Songs of Steve Dalachinsky

Five after the impressive Barclay, already released on Ayler Records, Chicagoan guitarist Scott Fields is back, still on the same label, with his remodeled and expanded Ensemble pour l'occasion. Paying homage to the free poetry of the poet Steve Dalachinsky , who died in 2019 and author of the texts in the repertoire, the guitarist offers an elaborate score voiced by German soprano Barbara Schachtner .

With a lot of expressiveness (which in a way recalls Marc Ducret's Lady M ), she appropriates the poet's words to which she gives a new resonance and a playful vitality. Supported in this by clever arrangements which use the timbres of the instruments in action as a palette (clarinet, tuba, flute, accordion, guitar and a hint of electronics), the music serves both as a backdrop to the text, punctuating with a lightness in suspense in the singer's words or, at other times, accompanies the dramaturgy of the piece, with humor sometimes, and a certain sense of tragedy elsewhere.

Sound and meaning flow with fluidity, which is the mark of relevant training, and the delicate balance between improvisation and compositional work allows you to listen to a measured ensemble that chooses its notes as the poet chooses his words. With sensitivity but without imposing his mark too strongly, Scott Fields pays homage to a man who played a role in the vitality of the underground scene and jazz-poetry and at the same time signs a work that belongs to him in his own right. — Citizen Jazz

Jerry D’Souza

christangelfox

Three musicians gather to make music. Each plays an instrument and percussion that comes in a set of four. Their percussion comprises scrap metal, stone, and wood, all of which float on foam slabs. They begin and then go on for the next hour playing the composition of Scott Fields. The music on christangelfox is influenced by Asian cultures, but as Fields notes in the liner notes, that intention is not formal. But it does give a pith and air to the process, whether it be in the loop and swell of the cello from Matt Turner or the cry and plea that emanates from the clarinet of Guillermo Gregorio. And Fields lets his guitar lilt on a classical progression or lets the notes thrill to a flamenco rhythm to lend a different dimension. There is plenty of interaction and conversation. The devolution takes some nice turns and twists, even if much of it is essayed in an equable atmosphere. But it is in this environ that they thrive and give vent to their imaginations. There are moments, though, when they ruffle the calm, and while it is just a passing thought, it does bring in a likeable ruffle. One of them comes around the 26th minute, when the metal and the wood percussion gets into an animated discussion while Gregorio curls, twists and blows breathy notes. In tandem they create one of the more breathtaking moments on the record. Despite its length, and given that this is one continuous performance, it holds interest. — All About Jazz

Grego Applegate Edwards

Five Frozen Eggs

Alright, so today it’s not a matter of rock. The blog never has been and I suppose never will be only that. Today we consider something by an electric guitarist and his ensemble, something in the realm of avant jazz, free jazz if you like that term. 

Scott Fields is a player of genuine stature in this realm. And the recording is a well-healed excursion with a top-notch ensemble. The album is named 5 Frozen Eggs (Clean Feed 258). 

Scott Fields amassed some signpost-like and/or more fleshed-out compositions for the date to help the ensemble set mood, tone and direction. Then he and the group cut loose with some very free and eloquent improvisations. The results are what one might expect if you know the players—Marilyn Crispell on piano, Hamid Drake, drums, Hans Sturm, acoustic bass, and of course Scott on electric. 

The Fields guitar style is pretty (sometimes very) electric and filled with all kinds of melodic twists and turns. You get the feeling listening as he plays that there is no discernible gap between what he thinks musically and what comes out of the instrument. The mind envisions lines of broad harmonic ramification, the hands execute with style and drama. He’s creating lines that sound like they are completely his—because they ARE. 

The piano improvisations of Ms. Crispell are, as always, extraordinarily creative and impactful. Her playing has a logic to it and flows in unending inspiration, or so it sounds. Hans Sturm churns it up at the bottom with an excellent sound and feel. Hamid Drake comes across as poised, dead-on, yet very free. He swings in his very own way when called upon and he like the others can create much that’s inspired in a spontaneous setting. The complete drummer, he is. 

So there you have it—four excellent improvisers doing great work interactively and individually, some appropriate compositional frameworks within which that happens, and a guitar stylist who belongs to a category of one, Scott Fields. 

It’s music that stays essential and vibrant throughout. If I were rich and they were available, I’d have these folks play at my birthday party! The next best thing is 5 Frozen Eggs. Happy birthday to everybody with this one! Fields and company create music that celebrates life, freely and smartly. — Gapplegate Guitar and Bass Blog

Fugu

Some music is just not trying to be in your face. It’s music that has a somewhat refined sensibility, and it is quite serious about that it sets about doing. That would be nylon guitarist Scott Fields’ new record in a nutshell. Fugu (Clean Feed), brings Fields together with a chamber improvisation ensemble of Geoff Brady, percussion, John Padden, acoustic bass, Robert Stright, vibes, and Matt Turner on cello. This somewhat unusual instrumentation and the music it plays reminds slightly of the old Chico Hamilton ensembles that had the cello-bass-guitar-drums-winds configuration, but only because this is music of a cooler temperature, dialogic construction and similar instrumentation. It is chamber improvisation of a tonal sort and it does not feature individual pyrotechnical displays. Beyond all that though this is music of today. 

There are compositional elements but the group improvisation concept is at the forefront. It’s not a head-solo-head sort of structure. Melodic and harmonic motives come in and out in the collective mix. And always there is a feeling of spontaneity and an almost classical dialogue. There are freely phrased passages and also regularly pulsating time segments. All the musicians are interesting and contribute to the total effect, which has the feeling of some friends getting together for what turns out to be a most stimulating conversation. 

This is music that needs attentive listening. It is unusual and quite intricate. Oh, and Scott Fields plays some very interesting lines. A good listen. 

A real treat, and an excellent idea to make this music available again. — Gapplegate Guitar and Bass Blog

Minaret Minuets

I am not overly familiar with either Scott Fields, electric guitarist, or Matthias Schubert, tenorist, but after hearing their duet offering Minaret Minuets (Clean Feed 213) a number of times, I must say that they’ve made an impression on me that wont be easily eradicated. A good impression, I mean. 

Scott contributes the compositions, all save one, which is by Matthias. In those charts/routines I hear the constructive influence of Anthony Braxton and Roscoe Mitchell, especially in the darting about asymmetrically through register skips and jumps, and the repetition of tone and sound color phrases — as both a compositional tact and a means to gradually launch into related improvisational work. There isn’t just some sort of imitation; these elements are creatively integrated into the Fields-Schubert duet dynamic. And they are made to springboard the artists into solid avant improvisatory territory where their own personal identities come to the fore. Plus there are other compositional elements that move the music in other directions as well. The point is that the compositional frameworks are strong, memorable, and a great way to structure the freedom of the improvisations. 

Both Fields and Schubert have developed sound and style inventiveness on their instruments to a fine point. These are originals, both. Fields, perhaps in part because there are relatively few avant electricians in the guitar realm who successfully develop and sustain identities of their own, has the greater impact on my ears. He plays irregular and unusual phrases with great fluidity, can vary the articulation of attack in many subtle ways, and his melodic-harmonic sensibility is woven into a whole, unified cloth. Schubert shares with Fields a tumble-and-turn rhythmic feel that serves both well. He is adept at coming up with pivotal figures that set things up for a Fields improvisation (and vice versa) and he maintains throughout a sure-footed robust or whispering tenor attack and an extremely fertile variational imagination. 

The two together are remarkable in many ways, but especially for me in the way they flow ideas together without strict tempo or even without any tempo whatsoever. Their duets move along in ways that make sense and bring listener appreciation to a high level. 

These are without a doubt some of the most interesting and successful sax-guitar avant improvisations I have had the pleasure to hear. I hope the two do more and continue to work together in duet and with other simpatico players. Definitely recommended! — Gapplegate Guitar and Bass Blog

Moersbow/OZZO

According to the Clean Feed website, Scott Fields wrote Moersbow/OZZO (Clean Feed 236) as two works that could be performed by at least 19 musicians, all of whom could improvise and read music. He recorded both works with a large outfit he calls the Multiple Joyce Orchestra. The CD at hand presents the fruits of that labor. 

This is challenging music of an avant sort. It combines textured soundscapes, collective soloing and worked-out sequences that have a post-Braxtonian edginess at times. 

No single instrumentalist is meant to dominate the proceedings. Instead a great variety of instrumental combinations come in and out of play more or less continuously. 

It’s a fascinating, successful, large-scale new music recital where the jazz and open elements combine and create a sonically rich result. It may not be a masterpiece of the new music, but it most certainly makes for a welcome addition to the scattering of existing works of its kind. Well worth a hearing if you follow the latest developments in the improv/new music nexus. — Gapplegate Music Review

everything is in the instructions

Shakuhachi flute music combined with   a new music-avant jazz sensibility? Yes, that’s pretty much what Everything is in the Instructions (Ayler 135) is all about. Scott Fields is on what sounds like a semi-amplified hollow body electric guitar; Jeffrey Lependorf is on shakuhachi. There is a fine-line between the pre-composed and the improvised on most of this album. They flow together seamlessly. Five have Scott Fields’ compositional frameworks; two are framed by Jeffrey Lependorf; and there is a version of Trane’s “Naima”. 

Scott’s guitar work has real originality to it. He may play with straight tuning, or alter it via a prepared guitar with objects placed between and onto the strings, but in any case what he plays has outside flow that acts like a musical fingerprint — it is his very own playing going on. Jeffrey channels traditional Japanese shakuhachi style (no mean feat) into a pretty brilliant amalgam of sound tradition and modern phraseology-harmonic expansion. 

The music requires concentrated listening, then pays off with a new sort of contemplative outness. 

There is nothing quite like it out there. You really should hear it! 

Unique masterpiece. — Gregory Gapplegate, Gapplegate Guitar and Bass Blog

Thomas Forkert

Five Frozen Eggs

The compositions of the American guitarist, Scott Fields, move between Jazz and New Music. The songs working as outline sketches, reflecting feelings, serve as a starting point for the numerous, free improvisations of the participating musicians. Powerful, swinging or grooving collective improvisations are as possible as entertaining lyric moments or ironic comedy. Notable here is the aloof, alluding style of pianist Marilyn Crispell. Hamid Drake, known for his earlier work with Peter Brotzman, plays a powerful but nuance filled percussion. In the combination of their soliloquies, the musicians of the Scott Fields Ensemble produce a cohesive, satisfying, and unique sound. Five Frozen Eggs is an energetic but varied and versatile recording, filled with all sorts of surprises. — Jazz Podium

Phil Freeman

Song Songs Song

Chicago Guitarist Jeff Parker’s ascent has been as smooth and deft as his playing. He works ably in multiple contexts, not only in Tortoise and the various Chicago Underground line-ups but also as a sideman, backing Fred Anderson and other Chicago notables. His duo partner on this disc, guitarist Scott Fields, is somewhat less known, but that says nothing about the quality of his work. 

There’s a clear division of labour, and an obvious aesthetic divergence, on Song Songs Song. Four of the disc’s six tracks are credited to Fields, and titled like works of visual art — “Untitled, 2001, Soot On Slate”; “Untitled, 1955, Crayon On Kellogg’s Corn Flakes Box”; “Untitled, 1968, Bing Cherry Juice, KY Jelly, Ketchup On Vellum”; “Untitled, 2004, Dried Blood On Gauze, Elastic Strip With Adhesive Backing”. These are more abstract, and difficult, that the opening “LK 92” and closing “The Fields Of Cologne”, both composed by Parker. 

This is not to suggest that Parker is uneasy in noise/improv territory. Though he may jazz things up more frequently than his partner, he’s fearless through the disc’s 63 minutes. Indeed, his lyricism seizes the day at more than one point, making Fields’s more obstreperous gestures feel like stunts. This is particularly true during “Untitled, 1968 …”, which occasionally sounds like Parker and Fields have been replaced by Joe Morris and Orthrelm’s Mick Barr. Still, this CD isn’t a mismatch, rather a fascinating conversation between two equally talented, but philosophically distinct compatriots. — The Wire

Bruce Lee Gallanter

The Songs of Steve Dalachinsky

Featuring Scott Fields on electric guitar & compositions, Annette Maye on clarinets, Melvyn Poore on tuba, Norbert Rodenkirchen on flutes, Florian Stadler on accordion, Eva Popplein on electronics and Barbara Schactner on vocals. The thing that I’ve always dug about American-born, Austrian-based guitarist/composer Scott Fields is that nearly all of his 3 dozen-plus discs have a concept in mind and are not mainly free improv excursions. The concept for this disc was/is taking the poetry of the late Downtown poet Steve Dalachinsky and using his words an inspiration for the sextet that Mr. Fields has organized here. Steve Dalachinsky was an old, dear friend of mine who I would meet at more concerts than anyone else throughout the four decades that we were friends. Although I didn’t know he was a poet until the early nineties, we were kindred spirits as far as having a passion to check out as many Creative Music concerts as was possible. It turned out that Dalachinsky was also a wonderful poet and did the best job I knew of documenting/discussing (through his poetry) the music that a handful of us lived to hear played live many times a week for many years. Mr. Dalachinsky and his lovely wife Yuko Otomo, Irving & Stephanie Stone and yours truly would often be the only folks to attend many of the same concerts, especially during the early years of the Downtown Scene. When Mr. Dalachinsky passed away in September of 2019, we lost a special creative spirit who was a friend to many of the musicians, artists & serious listeners of the Downtown Scene.
   Mr. Fields takes six of Mr. Dalachinsky’s poems and sets them to music which sounds partially free yet somehow directed. Mr. Fields has been living and thriving in Austria some three decades and this is where all or most of the musicians here are based. I only know a couple of the names here like Melvyn Poore (who has worked with Frank Gratkowski & the King Ubu Orchestra) and Norbert Rodenkirchen (who has worked with Albrecht Maurer). The music here is continuous with short interludes in between each piece. Although vocalist Barbara Schachtner sounds like an opera singer, she is used sparingly and is an integral member of this sextet. Dalachinsky’s poems are reprinted in the enclosed booklet so we can savor their meaning. The music often sounds like chamber music and is thoughtfully composed and focused. There are little or no actual solos here yet the music is consistently fascinating and quirky with some unexpected twists and turns. The only member who gets a chance to stretch a bit is Mr. Fields who often adds some odd, barbed spice at times. Although the music doesn’t remind me of the irascible Mr. Dalachinsky, hearing the words at times does recall his gift for describing the life of us serious Downtown listeners. — Downtown Music Gallery

Hornets Collage

Like all cds on the nuscope label, this one is extremely well recorded, so one can rapt attention to the smallest or quietest detail. From ultra sparse sections to busy portions, there is an absorbing thread that holds this all together. “When She Speaks…” recalls that quirky Giuffre type of excursion with tight little flashes of notes that quickly erupt. Five of these pieces are collective improvs and each is an adventure unto itself, open ended, boisterous and mysterious, yet somehow connected through deep listening and reacting. The majority of these pieces are (well) written and involve a variety of strategies and textures. Concentrated, thoughtful and provocative sounds to ponder. — Downtown Music Gallery

Song Songs Song

This strange electric guitar duo recording is perhaps one the oddest and most un-jazz-like of the vast Delmark catalogue, which mostly deals with jazz and blues dates from the fifties onwards. Chicago-based Jeff Parker does have some jazz credentials, playing with the Chicago Underground and Fred Anderson, yet he can’t really be pegged as most of the current Chicago underground continues to pursue diversity and unpredictability. Wisconsin based Scott Field is also a great improviser, as well as a unique composer, his more than a dozen releases also embrace diverse approaches and an ever-changing cast of players to work with. Each of the six pieces here also cover a variety of approaches. Jeff’s “LK” is a calm, haunting and even jazz-like in its rather melodic guitar tone, it is a sort of ballad that is quietly deconstructed as it evolves. “Untitled, 1968” sounds like it could be Fred Frith and Henry Kaiser (maybe a Dead space jam?), with all those volume pedal swirls, free yet focused noise sections, but never going too far out. By “Untitled, 2004,” they start to go further out, faster, freer and more intense, but never losing sight of each other as they work together, trading ideas and licks, suspending time as they weave lines together into one sound/blend. “Untitled, 2001” has both Jeff and Scott playing with that warm, relaxed jazz guitar tone, Les Paul meets Joe Pass? Actually, they move through a variety of approaches quickly, casting off one idea after another. “Untitled, 1955” is a long work that again shows a quite a bit of unorthodox techniques, twisted harmonies, intricate noise-work, both subtle and intense abstractions, q and a sections, quickly tapped harmonics, alien textures and some nice quiet and spooky moments. Jeff Parker and Scott Fields work quite well together, combining forces and blending their sound into one story-like journey. In a blindfold test, most folks would have little clue who they really are listening to. — Downtown Music Gallery

Stefan Gijssels

drawings

German artist Thomas Hornung has the habit of making many quick drawings, most of which he discards, and some he archives. Guitarist Scott Fields made this CD to accompany these drawings and to mimick their creation. The CD consists of 98 tracks, ranging from 8 seconds to 1 minute. In this short period, there’s hardly anything to tell, and that’s what it sounds like: short snippets of sound, with no apparent sense. Unless this makes sense to you: “Eventually I decided to convert some (as it turned out 171) of his drawings into a multi-page graphic score. To do that I made a matrix of pitch rows and numbers that represent playing techniques. Then I reversed Thomas’s drawings so that what was black became transparent. Finally I laid each drawing over the matrix and used what was visible as an element in an extended, modular composition.” It is pretty painful that you need to explain all this, and much more, in two pages on the liner notes. In my humble opinion, music is about music, not about some intellectual and cerebral creation. Click on the cover above to see how much notes remain after the “color reversion.” The point of this approach totally eludes me. There are about five trillion other ways to organise notes based on external circumstances, most of which are possibly more valuable than the approach taken here. I have no problem that other art forms can generate inspiration for musical evocations, quite to the contrary, but not through such a mechanistic intellectual process. What Fields does, is just to create randomness. There is no link whatsoever between the drawings and his music. And none of the 98 pieces actually has anything to tell. They’re just a few sounds on one or several strings. Less interesting than a bee buzzing around your head. The good news is that “I had 254 takes, 171 of which I kept (…), a month later I culled the 171 acceptable takes down to 99, one for each track possible on the CD.” We were saved from listening to a triple CD. — Free Jazz Blogspot

Bitter Love Songs

With his guitar trio, the Scott Fields Freetet, the guitarist wants to get even for all the problems caused to him by people he trusted and especially the one he loved. The titles of the tracks leave nothing to the imagination : “Yeah, Sure, We Can Still Be Friends, Whatever,” “Go Ahead, Take The Furniture, At Least You Helped Pick It Out,” “My Love Is Love, Your Love Is Hate,” etc, etc. And with that knowledge in mind, you would expect some raw, frustrated, angry or even violent music, or at best some sad blues-drenched wailing. What you get is nothing of the sort, though. You get abstract and free music, nervous and agitated, often sounding like Joe Morris, all in the mid-tempo range, with the exception of the fifth track, “I Was Good Enough For You Until Your Friends Butted In’” which is a little slower and closer to a blues in form and feeling. Sebastian Gramss on bass and João Lobo on drums play well and supportive, because Fields is not always easy to follow. Despite many good ideas, the emotional disconnect between theme and form is too big a gap to bridge for me. This soft-toned, gentle, open yet nervous music is the opposite of the destructive anger you would expect. Fields would have done better by presenting is music “as is,” leaving more to the listener’s imagination, rather than pointing the direction with words. Now, it’s just a nice album which will certainly be of interest to modern guitar-players. 3 stars — Free Jazz Blogspot

Fugu

Guitarist Scott Fields fits in his own musical category, trying to reconcile new music with jazz elements, inventive with musical structures and patterns, yet with an end result that is often very (too) cerebral and abstract. This album uses the same complexities, with odd meters and changing time signatures, and somehow it all seems to fit and work perfectly well. It was originally written for the dance ensemble of Li Chiao-Ping, and already released in 1995. From what I understand from the somewhat tiring liner notes is that the piece was never performed, and you can understand why, when listening to it.

That being said, the music is beautiful. Scott Fields plays nylon-string guitar, Matt Turner cello, Geoff Brady percussion, John Padden double bass and Robert Stright vibraphone. The shifting meters and the chamber-like ensemble perform with precision and clarity, keeping the music open-textured and thematically relatively free, despite the structure, that, implicit though it is to the listener, creates a sense of release when the puzzle pieces falls into place.The improvisations are excellent, and it’s a pleasure to hear Fields playing guitar in a relatively straight-forward way, especially on “The Plagiarist”, a very nervous and uptempo piece. The rest of the band is absolutely great, with the sound combination between the cello and the vibes working extremely well. On the long “A Carrot Is Not A Carrot,” the interaction between Turner’s cello and Fields’ guitar is full of sad melancholy, the interplay between cello and walking bass on “Fugu” a pleasure, as is the careful precision play between vibes and percussion.

A real treat, and an excellent idea to make this music available again.****½ — Free Jazz

Ulfert Goeman

seven deserts

Lapidar bezeichnet der vom Art Ensemble und der Avantgarde Chicagos sowie vom Blues beeinflusste Chicagoer Komponist und Gitarrist Scott Fields sein neues Opus als „modulare Komposition für 20 Musiker und Dirigenten“. Es wurde im November des vergangenen Jahres live in der Alten Feuerwache in Köln uraufgeführt, mit einer exquisiten Reihe meist deutscher Jazzmusiker der freien Szene Kölns, wo Scott derzeit lebt. Hinzu kamen unter anderem Ingrid Laubrock (sax) und Stephen Dembski als Dirigent. Ein Instrumentarium, das aus zwei Violinen, zwei Bratschen, einem Cello, zwei Bässen, zwei Gitarren, drei Flöten, drei Saxophonen, einer Trompete, einer Tuba sowie Marimbaphon, Vibraphon und Perkussion bestand. Die sieben Module bezeichnet der Komponist als deserts, also als Ödland. Sie bilden Ausgangspunkte für musikalisches Neuland. Fields stößt nach früheren Experimenten mit jazzmäßigeren, freien Improvisationen mehr in Randbereiche der Neuen Musik, auch wenn die Mitwerkenden ausschließlich freie Jazzmusiker sind. Es ist aufregend, man hört konzentriert zu. Aber es empfiehlt sich, nicht, dies in einem Zuge zu tun. — Jazz Podium

Steve Goldstein

Running with Scissors

Fields’ music will appeal to those who feel—as this critic does—that Eric Dolphy’s ‘Out to Lunch’ was one of the seminal recordings of the ‘60s. That disc also sounds like a textbook for Fields and his quintet. Running with Scissors made me want to stick a microscope to my ear to catch all the nuances played by Fields and his group. — Midwest Jazz Magazine

Eyal Hareuveni

everything is in the instructions

Composer of contemporary chamber music   and opera and certified master of the Japanese shakuhachi flute Jeffrey Lependorf cites an insightful incident he had with iconoclastic composer John Cage that reveals much about typical misconceptions about what is right and what is wrong in music and art. Lebendorf wanted Cage to clarify his vague instructions for a theater piece he was assigned to assist a choreographer to prepare. But Cage insisted, kindly enough, that “everything is in the instructions.” After the performance of this piece, and following the standing ovation, Lependorf asked again Cage for his opinion, and Cage, typically but again, kindly enough, answered that he “did everything wrong.” 

Back to the present. Lependorf’s collaboration with idiosyncratic guitarist and composer in avant-jazz and New Music Scott Fields does not bother itself with questions about what sound right or wrong. All sounds are beautiful, as Cage once said, and these two masterful and resourceful musicians do not attempt to replicate any form of new world music or new-agey, meditative kind of interplay (as the Shakuhachi is associated with the Zen school of Buddhism), or to follow any familiar concept. 

The two musicians suggest how innovative and original music of the 21st century can sound. Music that patiently, almost methodically, explores new timbres and sonic options; uses silence as basic element; is compassionate but never sentimental, gifted with dark humor but not emotionally detached; and always demonstrating deep listening and careful sensitivity to the the most fragile qualities of the music making process and and its immediate options. 

The improvised pieces “Objects in Relation to Other Objects” and “The Politics of Solitude” are masterful expressions of the high art of these two musicians. Music that is comprised from brief, abstract and subtle articulations, loosely connected, but eventually accumulate to profound, mesmerizing pieces. The intimate, chamber interplay on “Oh yes” and “Tip bloused” is simply timeless with its thoughtful references to classical, contemporary and East-Asian music. The surprising cover of John Coltrane’s “Naima” is a moving tribute to the great master, performed with deep emotional gratitude but without reverence, wisely sketching this timeless classic. 

Unique masterpiece. — All About Jazz

Ostryepolya

The musical meeting of innovative guitarists Elliott Sharp and Scott Fields came by coincidence. Both were aware of each other’s work for many years, but the opportunity of playing as a duo never arose. Each is a master composer and improviser with extensive experience accumulated in various formats. Sharp pioneered the usage of fractal geometry, chaos theory, genetic metaphors and using software in his compositions. Fields, who, like Sharp, plays the soprano saxophone, was commissioned for orchestral compositions. 

When Scott was performing in Lisbon and heard Sharp was scheduled for Lisbon’s Jazz em Agusto festival, he joked with the Clean Feed label manager Pedro Costa that it would be a good idea to play with Sharp. Costa thought that was an excellent idea, and Fields emailed Sharp, who liked the idea. The pair played few concerts and Costa arranged the recording sessions that produced Scharfenfelder (Clean Feed, 2008) and Afiadacampos (NEOS, 2010). 

The DVD features two performances. The first at the Loft in Cologne on May 2009, and the second at the NOZART festival in Cologne on March 2010. Cameras focus from various angles on two tall, bald-headed guys seated facing each other and playing custom-made steel-stringed acoustic guitars in small spaces. The two blur any attempt to categorize their music in distinct genre or style. They move freely between free improvisation, sonic searches, minimalism, blues and contemporary music in compositions based on conventional notation or graphic notation, all with impressive command, elegance and sharp sense of humor. 

The two have different approaches, though both are interested in finding new forms and structures. Sharp tends to be more provocative, investigating the guitar’s timbral range, searching weird-sounding tunings, non-Western sonorities and the syntax of any musical motif or sonic fragment. Fields is often the more reserved player, opting for a clear narrative and theme. They have developed an affinity and their relaxed, supportive interplay contributes to their ability in completing ideas and deeply understanding each other. Sharp and Fields do not try to deny differences in their musical languages. They explore their unique identities through these arresting interactions and spontaneous interpretations. 

The generous DVD offers, beside the two live sets, a short interview where both talk about their approaches and musical bond, plus an insightful 26-minute recording session. Highly recommended. — All About Jazz

Alex Henderson

Song Songs Song

Blistering, ferocious, harsh, abrasive, confrontational—quite often, the adjectives that are typically used to describe death metal, grindcore and metalcore have also been used to describe the more militant side of free jazz. Charles Gayle and post-1965 John Coltrane—two examples of avant-garde jazz taken to a brutal extreme—are not for the faint of heart any more than Slayer or Cannibal Corpse. In fact, some of Coltrane’s most devoted fans have a hard time comprehending his post-1965 work. But the AACM has, on numerous occasions, demonstrated that not all avant-garde jazz favors a take-no-prisoners aesthetic, and Song Songs Song easily represents that kinder, gentler school of outside playing. This 2004 date, which finds Jeff Parker and Scott Fields joining forces for a two-guitar duet, is not about in-your-face confrontation; instead, the guitarists favor a pensive, reflective approach to outside playing. Song Songs Song is far from a straightahead bop album; the performances are as abstract and cerebral as they are spacy and eerie. But they aren’t harsh or militant by any means; nor are they dense. While extreme density can give Gayle and post-1965 Coltrane—or, for that matter, Slayer’s death metal—a claustrophobic quality, Parker and Fields thrive on the use of space. Instead of trying to cram as many notes as possible into a solo, they choose their notes in a more careful, deliberate fashion. That isn’t to say that the two guitarists don’t improvise; improvisation and spontaneity are a major part of what they do on Song Songs Song. But it’s a thoughtful spontaneity—a thoughtful way of exploring the abstract and the intellectual. Admirers of the AACM school of outside expression will find a lot to like about the dialogue that Parker and Fields enjoy on Song Songs Song. 3½ stars — All Music Guide

Mamet

Arguably the Anthony Braxton of the guitar, Scott Fields is among avant-garde jazz’s unsung innovators. The guitarist, now based in Madison, WI, was part of the Chicago avant-garde jazz scene during the 60s and ’70s and, much like Larry Young brought modal post-bop to the organ, Fields’ guitar playing was influenced by the pioneering work of Chicago’s Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM). An improviser as important as Fields should have a huge catalog but, regrettably, the electric guitarist has only recorded sporadically over the years. Recorded in 2000 and released in 2001, Mamet finds him putting his spin on the works of playwright David Mamet. Although there are no words or lyrics, Fields was thinking of Mamet’s plays when he composed instrumentals like “Oleanna,” “The Woods,” and “American Buffalo.” But one doesn’t have to be an expert on Mamet’s work to appreciate this excellent release. And, for that matter, being a lover of Mamet’s plays doesn’t guarantee that you will love Fields’ Mamet CD (which employs Michael Formanek on acoustic bass and Michael Zerang on drums). Ultimately, the thing that will determine whether or not you find Mamet meaningful is how much you appreciate and comprehend outside improvisation. If you’re an admirer of fearless AACM explorers like Anthony Braxton, Lester Bowie, and Roscoe Mitchell, you owe it to yourself to hear Mamet — a CD that is enthusiastically recommended to anyone with a taste for AACM-style avant-garde jazz. —  All Music Guide

Tad Hendrickson

Mamet

On Mamet guitarist Scott Fields takes poignant moments from five David Mamet plays and sets them to music, making full use of the playwright’s penchant for exaggerated linguistic rhythm to fire the structure and dynamics of these songs. The concept will likely be too cerebral for some (isn’t playing good music hard enough?), but the results work as avant-garde jazz. With help from drummer Michael Zerang and bassist Michael Formanek, the trio broods, bristles, cries and pries, replicating the drama of Mamet’s dialogue-driven scenes. Fields’s guitar takes the part of the woman and Formanek the man, leaving Zerang to provide the rhythmic undertow. Undoubtedly one of the most adventurous albums to come out from the Delmark camp, Mamet pushes jazz to a place many jazz musicians don’t dare to go. — CMJ New Music Report

Jeffrey Herrmann

48 Motives

Entitled 48 Motives, his piece consists of melodic fragments composed using a harmonic system that is intended to provide a listenable application of the serial twelve tone techniques used by classical composer Arnold Schoenberg. Highly listenable it is, as the figures played by cellist Matt Turner and ex-Art Ensemble of Chicago member Joseph Jarman are both emotive and melodic. Though the chaotic polyrhythms caused by the active participation of each of the members at times seem random there are plenty of stabilizing musical figures that sustain the music without relying on familiar patterns. — yourflesh

Michael Herrschel

From the Diary of Dog Drexel

Musique concrète, as an archaic variety of New Music, caught noises with a butterfly net and pierced them. In a poetical travesty of this procedure, composer Scott Fields and his ensemble switch themselves on and off like a tape, let noise, silence, explosion, implosion, color-thunderstorm and pale nothing succeed one another hard and fast — or weave concrete things into one another, images which come up, overlap, discolor, change. Everything is hand-made and mouth-blown, everyone is a juggler, amply gifted to wake up illusions and re-extinguish them. Shadow-voice behind the clarinet becomes hectic breath, becomes railroad, uncanny in approaching, as in effacing its own decipherment. It is a dream wherein the unbiased eye sees symbols, signals, signs all in off-shades, restlessly moved, pulled by invisible strings. Pictographs arise like suns: glassy swimming desert-flowers of vibraphone and crotales, cheeky siren-glissandi with which the oboe — unappreciated princess of jazz-instruments — plays the trumpet… 

A winter-cold epilogue though — as if logic was not allowed to remain without a punch line — throws a net over the sounds after all: electronic mirage constructs the decay of color and outline. Fogs are lifting, threatening, clearing up — and Scott Fields’ thrashing guitar sound emerges; echo of rage, naked king in the heath. — seven boxes (highest rating) Neue Musikzeitung

Karen Hogg

Scharfefelder

Guitar duos present many possibilities for intrepid musicians. Such pairings can be opportunities for boundary-pushing sonic explorations. 

Scharfefelder, a collaboration between guitarists Elliott Sharp and Scott Fields, is a frenetic set of duets performed on acoustic guitars. This is a challenging listen, with dissonant passages a common occurrence, but still obvious that both musicians are masters of the instrument. Tracks such as “Branendrane” and “Put your pennies in my Portuguese cork hat” showcase the iconoclastic — and quite different from each other — playing of both guitarists. Sharp and Fields both contributed to the compositional structures here, with each piece more of a loose set of parameters for improvisation than tunes in any conventional sense. — All About Jazz

Walter Horn

Sonotropism

There are undoubtedly some terrific moments, but the whole project is too self-consciously eclectic and “downtown” to allow the players to lose themselves in the music for sustained periods. In music, as in life, nirvana requires forgetting oneself. Here, both the writing and the playing seem at certain times to fall into the refrain “Remember Me!…Me! and at others to reverberate loudly with a “What should I be doing now?” vibe. — Cadence Magazine

Tom Hull

Bitter Love Songs

Guitarist, sort of Chicago’s answer to Derek Bailey, although I wouldn’t swear on that, since for me one of the main things they have in common is that I’ve never made much sense out of either. This is a trio, recorded in Germany, with Sebastian Gramss on double bass and João Lobo on drums. Title isn’t obviously reflected in the music, but it sure is in the song titles: “Yea, sure, we can still be friends, whatever;” “Go ahead, take the furniture, at least you helped pick it out;” “My love is love, your love is hate;” “Your parents must be just ecstatic now;” “I was good enough for you until your friends butted in;” “You used to say I love you but so what now.” Liner notes hit even harder. Not sure where the music comes from — sublimated anger? — but it seems uncommonly focused, for once. 

I’ve played this record a lot on the road the last month, and it’s never let me down. The avant-guitarist has a tendency elsewhere to diddle in abstractions, but he plays with remarkable logic here — bitterness must focus the mind. The Freetet adds bass and drums, bulking up the sound and punctuating the emotions. (A-) — tomhull.com

Fugu

Chicago guitarist, has a couple dozen albums since 1993, of which this original 1995 recording was his second, brought back on a new label. Group wobbles between Matt Turner on cello and Robert Stright on vibes, the former slowing things down and sapping them up, the latter bristling with energy. Group also includes bass and percussion. Fields has some very nice runs, and the vibes are terrific. (B+) — tomhull.com

Minaret Minuets

Guitar/tenor sax duo. Guitarist Fields has a couple dozen albums back to 1993. Schubert has four albums since 1992, including the well-regarded Blue and Grey Suite from 1994. They previously played together on Fields’ 2006 album Beckett. They're careful here to match up their tones, so you get close listening and interaction, even balance. Does run on rather long. (B+) — tomhull.com

Moersbow/OZZO

Guitarist, from Chicago, has a couple dozen albums since 1993, about as close as anyone to being an American analog to Derek Bailey. Doesn’t play here; instead conducts MJO through a 13:54 piece dedicated to Merzbow and the much-longer 4-part “OZZO.” MJO was founded in 2008 by Frank Gratkowski (alto sax), Carl Ludwig Hübsch (tuba), and Matthias Schubert (tenor sax), with 24 members credited here — a little bit of everything (except guitar), including computer and analog electronics. Has that scratchy, abstract feel, but is rarely without interest, and more pleasing than anyone would expect. (B+) — tomhull.com

Five Frozen Eggs

Avant guitarist, b. 1946, based in Chicago, has about twenty albums since 1993, several of which have been picked up and reissued by Clean Feed. Seems like most are cranky solo affairs, but some aren’t, and this one is dominated by Marilyn Crispell’s piano, at her iciest, creating fractured landscapes that Fields, bassist Hans Sturm, and drummer Hamid Drake trek through. — B+, three stars. — tomhull.com

Robert Iannapollo

Song Songs Song

Jeff Parker and Scott Fields are two of Chicago’s finest guitarists. They’ve each had diverse histories and while their musical paths have crossed before (on the sextet recording Denoument), this is the first time they’ve played together as a duo on disc. Parker has a pedigree playing in some of Chicago’s more unusual ensembles: Isotope 217, Chicago Underground Duo, and Tortoise. Fields strikes me as a more restless individual, working primarily with various musicians (i.e. Marilyn Crispell, Francois Houle, Hamid Drake, and many others) but never settling in with one group. But Parker and Fields, although very distinctive players, almost mesh as one on this set of surprisingly low-key duets. Both can be highly abstract players when the mood strikes them but, here, they sound like two guitarists firmly rooted in the Jazz guitar tradition. The opening section of “Untitled 2001, Soot on Slate” sounds like something Jim Hall might have attempted back in the early 1960s (when he was playing on recordings like Gunter Schuller’s Jazz Abstractions). Although four of the tracks are based on themes, this one is an improvisation. Oddly enough, it has a compositional feel to it. The two circle lazily around each other with melodic lines and dissonant yet gentle accompanying chords. The whole thing holds together nicely. The opening and closing tracks on the disc (Parker’s “LK” and “The Fields Of Cologne”) are also in the gentle, quieter vein. And “Fields Of Cologne” has a truly beguiling melody. But there’s a lot of variety in this program. “Untitled, 2004, Dried Blood On Gauze…” contains some furious scrabbling and some of the most intense music of the set. Yet, even at their most frenetic, Parker and Fields are listening players and never seem to get in each other’s way. Although both players are noted for their use of effects boxes, preparing their instruments, etc., the majority of this disc refrains from that approach. Probably the most effects-laden track is “Untitled 1968, Bing Cherry Juice…” (love these titles) and it has some of the finest playing of the set. Although it must also be said that this track contained some rambling passages that made it go on far too long. But this disc is, for the most part, surprisingly free from endless noodling that sometimes plague the duet format. Song Songs Song finds two of today’s most forward thinking guitarists (who also just happen to be from Chicago) engaging in fruitful dialog. — Cadence Magazine

Hugh Jarrid

Frail Lumber

Of all atrocities committed by Hurricane Sandy, none was so vile as the confiscation of my Promising, Soon-to-Review stack of submitted CDs. These diamonds-in-the-rough waiting to be polished into gemstones by this skilled evaluator’s praise were stored at the ready by my writing desk. The unforgiving storm surge swept away these pearls, leaving behind only muck, some in the form of flood detritus and some, much more distressingly, in the form of the Clearly-Not-Fit-to-Hear, Avoid-Reviewing submitted CDs that accumulate in far corner of my crawl space, which the waters, unfortunately, could not penetrate. 

You, my loyal reader, have undoubtedly noticed that my usually supportive writings, sprinkled only occasionally with instructions for how musicians can improve, have been recently markedly less positive. Immediately Post-Sandy the usual quality product could still be supplied as Swingin’ Thing Magazine and other fine publications burned through their Hugh Jarrid back stock. Then the castor oil had to be swallowed and the wrongly spared recordings endured. 

When the least objectionable objects had passed through my analytical alimentary canal and I had flushed the (necessarily correction-packed) judgments to my editors, I pinned my nose, lit incense, and steeled myself to endure what I knew would be the stinkiest poostick of the surviving chaff: Scott Fields’ Frail Lumber on the Portuguese label NotTwo Records. Fields and I do have a history as recalcitrant subject and frustrated nurturer. But Fields has resisted my best-intended critical coaching and continues to excrete concepts that leave me chugalugging Pepto-Bismol. 

My eye was immediately drawn to the presence of eight names on the CD jacket cover. On Fields’ preceding release, Merzbow Oslo, on the same label, the ensemble included 25 members, who almost entirely drowned out the leader’s pathetic plunking. My mind was dragged screaming back in time to Fields’ previous octet release, 48 Motives, in which his playing was almost equally unobtrusive. (Best of all, naturally, was the trio outing Bitter Love Songs, for which Fields employed superior axe-wielder Joe Morris to ghost-pluck the guitar parts, a ploy for which I praised him in a previous review.) 

With trepidation I tore away the package’s plastic protection (if only it protected the potential patron and refused to yield) to gain access to the liner notes, often a music scribe’s only useful source of information. My eyes snapped immediately to the angelic profile of the Italian violinist, Jessica Pavone. This hot mamamia can stroke my G-string any time she wants. Once I had taken a few minutes to relieve my Pavone-induced tension, I reexamined my package. To my shock and horror, there were, count them, 4 violins, 2 violoncelli, and 2 guitars. In virtually all cases that is far too high of percentage of strings to jazz instruments for a proper jazz recording. Sure, Wes Montgomery’s and Charlie Parker’s finest outings including full string sections, but “section” is the operational word. The string SECTION is restricted to filling the spaces the soloists leave behind. My fear was that Fields had unleashed these strings, forcing them to run wild with individualistic idiomatic ideas and singular solos. Alas, the interior revealed only the Pavone pinup marred by the other musicians and, apparently, photoshopped pre- and post-SlimFast images of the leader. Certain that the liner notes appeared on an independently inserted sheet, I digitally probed the packaging and found only the disc. The notoriously tightwad label had stiffed the consumer by refusing (perhaps afraid of what might be said of the music) to hire an evaluator to write liners. 

I was left with no option but to listen unprepared. My worst fears were soon realized. Strings crammed every cranny. Any musician on a Fields recording struggles to overcome cockeyed chaos to coordinate with colleagues. And here the kookiness was compounded by contrariness to what all string players have beaten into them from their first Suzuki class: it is necessary to play in unison. My heart goes out to these victims of Fields inconsideration as they suffer through long stretches of string-norms-stopping stench before arriving at tutti sections, such as near the end of “Bubinga.” By the time the musicians reach these mercifully mucilaginous movements they are too weary to maintain a dependable dynamic. The recording’s one positive characteristic is that the guitar playing is not as wrenched as on previous Fields titles (save that of on the previously mentioned Morris three-card-Monte gambit). Safe to assume that the other credited pick-poker, Eliot Sharp, overdubbed both guitar parts. 

My recommendation: If you want lots of strings, look for classics such as Bird with Strings. If you insist on hearing strings attempt to swing, find examples in which a hot rhythm section steers the should-be-classical instrumentalist toward a groove. And if you want to hear the sound of cat guts being removed from living animals, find a copy of Frail Lumber at your local used record store where it has undoubtedly been deposited after a single partial listen. — Swingin’ Thing Magazine

Bitter Love Songs

The depths to which Scott Fields will sink are seemingly infinite. On his newest debacle, Bitter Love Songs, on the Spanish label Clean Feed Records, he hires a surrogate to perform in his place. Although Fields is listed as the album’s composer and guitarist, clearly he has hired a far-superior plectrum pounder to play his parts. This reviewer’s best guess? Joe Morris. Having suffered through countless (and beatless) Fields solos I know well his plinky-plunky “Ah so, mister, you have ticky for washy, no ticky no washy” acoustic guitar “stylings” and his many mangled missteps on the electrified alternative; the licks on this disc just taste different. Although I deplore his dishonesty, failing to even assign his sub a nom de axe ala Bird’s Charlie Chan, I applaud his absence. With Fields reduced to scratching out a few simple, nay simplistic, songs, his able replacement (clearly Morris) and rhythm-section reliables João Lobo and Sebastian Gramss rehydrate, resuscitate, and jazzitate these mediocre melodies. Fields’ sole remaining task was to pen whiney liner notes and assign ridiculous “bitter” titles to his “compositions.” Couldn’t Morris have tackled titles too? Fields is bitter? He should be…toward whomever sold him his first guitar. — Swingin’ Thing Magazine

Beckett

Let it not be said that Scott Fields cannot learn from his betters. As it was pointed out by this very critic, although certainly by other like-minded arts analysts as well, his 2002 Delmark recording Mamet failed in its stated goal of alleviating the chore of reading or watching dramatic works. For reasons one hopes were simply incompetence rather than malice or deeply buried self-destructive urges, Fields omitted much of the meat and instead proffered creamed spinach. Perhaps here I must remind the forgetful reader that the Chicago string-bender offered an alleged time-saver which was to permit the harried customer to listen to instrumental condensations of literary masterworks rather than struggle with the written word or sit through interminable video realizations, not to mention live presentations, by far the most time-guzzling method for the consumption of a playwright’s reflections. Although these aural Cliff Notes were an admirable goal, the pick-pusher shot himself in our foot by not only severely abridging the texts of five David Mamet plays, but also by keeping the exact placement of the cuts to himself and perhaps his A&R man. All educational value was abandoned because the listener, no matter how attentive, was provided no hint of where acts or scenes or even speeches began or ended. The uproar, led by your correspondent, was deafening.

In this mismanaged mea culpa, Fields sets every word in five Samuel Beckett plays. Before providing his purportedly improved play-stitutes, he lifts his middle finger off the fretboard of his customized jazz guitar and extends it to you, the listener. Rather than get right to work explicating Beckett’s notoriously convoluted wordplay, Fields tenders the playwrite’s infamous “Breath,” an entirely wordless!! work. Very funny Fields. Ha ha. For the remaining four plays the so-called composer provides a rhythm and pitch for every uttered word. Alas, the result in no more useful than that of Mamet. Rather than exposing the words, Fields camouflages them with audible fog. He muddies the musical waters with incomprehensible extra sounds and notes. Worse yet, at times he layers lines, rendering the meaning of Beckett’s dialog distressingly distant. Even with text in hand, this listener found lines exceeding hard to hound dog. Sniffing out meaning became more work than it was worth. Perhaps if this were Fields’ first folly, hope could be held that illuminating his errors would lead someday to a more functional educational aid. But this political season has already exposed the pitfalls found in platefuls of false hope. Thanks but no thanks Fields. I would rather peruse Ron Paul’s proposals than fish for meaning in this bait-and-switch swamp of words rendered irrelevant. — Swingin’ Thing Magazine

Song Songs Song

On any recording that pairs players of like instruments, the primary duty to the listener is to serve as a device in which the ability of each musician can be judged, a forum for finding who plays best, who wins and who loses, who is the better man. How else can real, relevant ranks be established? But Windy City label Delmark this time blows a foul new sound in stereo guitars and as such presents what its crew of producers and A&R men must have thought a practical joke of blustery subtlety. Well this critic is not amused. Where the packaging should be informative, it is just as lazy as a summer wind. The label’s high command commits a Nuremberg’s worth of crimes against all CD consumers. First of all they leave the curious reader blowin’ in the wind, unable to tell one track from another, since these windburnt bureaucrats didn’t even see fit to include titles for the inner four “songs” on this song-parched Frisbee of acrylic and laser dimples. The next disappointment is the substitute for comprehensible liners notes with a monsoon of unrelated and meaningless words. But what turns this wayward wind of inconsideration into a presidentially declared disaster area of thoughtlessness is Delmark’s decision to jettison identification of which “musician” is playing on which channel. Judgments as to historical context, racial tendencies, and plain old chopsmanship are rendered near impossible without clear delineation of roles and responsibilities. Instead of paying a competent typographer to set a simple sentence of x = right channel, y = left channel, the label’s leaders leave little leads as to which guitar slinger is slinging where (subliminal, no doubt, since these louts heap scant care on the very lifeblood of their business: CD-buying individuals). Careful inspection of the packaging revels several clues, however. First of all, there is the cover photograph, which shows Jeff Parker on the left and Scott Fields on the right (perhaps also reflecting their political leanings). Turning the jewel box a single rotation reveals a second, smaller photograph on the CD’s rump. Again Parker is on the left and Fields is on the right. Returning to the front cover, Parker’s name is on the left and Fields’ is on the right, defying all alphabetical convention. On the rear, Parker’s name is again left and Fields’ right. This pattern, in fact, recurs wherever the names appear side by side. It is clear that this wind cries Parker left channel, Fields right. With that knowledge established firmly in mind, Delmark’s smokescreen clears on the epic battle between Parker’s solid jazz credentials (think Charles “The Yardbird” Parker or Maceo Parker more so than William Parker or, least of all, Evan Parker) and Fields’ wet-behind-the-ears eagerness but inability to please patina. Now the listener can see who is where. Parker grooves; Fields ruts. Parker swings; Fields dangles. Parker burns; Fields flickers like a candle in the wind. Nothing would please me more than to say Parker prevails. But in the end Fields’ demons destroy whatever musical content once lurked in channel left, leaving these Song Songs Song, Wrong Wrongs Wrong. — Swingin’ Thing Magazine

The Diary of Dog Drexel

Bow wow. Woof woof. Give this critic a melody. Yip yip. Arf arf. This old man wishes Scott Fields had stayed home. On this recording “composer” and “guitarist” Fields again lifts his leg on you, the listener. Fields and his littermates —brass jockey Greg Kelley, oboemann Kyle Bruckmann, squeaky-toy specialist Carry Biolo, computer programmer Gregory Taylor, and Italian woodwind-wielder Guillermo Gregorio—have broken loose from their leashes, in spite of the presence of alleged conductor Stephen Dembski. One would think—nay, pray—that choo-choo chief Dembski could teach these new dogs a few old tricks, but throughout it is clear that these pups are barely paper trained. If only Fields had provided proper positive reinforcement, a tasty treat here and there to reward the musician and ultimately the CD-purchasing public. But where there should be swing, these mongrels rock ‘n’ roll over and play dead. Where there should be harmony, there is a cacophony of howls and whimpers. Luscious tone is hiding in the basement, replaced with distressed scratching and panting. Grrrrrrrrrrr. My recommendation? Do not buy this little doggie in the window. And if one is left on your doorstep, take it to the pound to have it “put to sleep” as indeed will be the fate of anyone who adopts this homely mongrel. — Swingin’ Thing Magazine

96 Gestures

On 96 Gestures West-coast composer and guitarist Scott Fields resurfaces with another of his much ballyhooed “modular compositions” for improvising chamber ensemble. This one meanders over an eyelid-drooping three hours and eighteen minutes. A test of endurance for even the most seasoned critic, I must admit that mid-way through the third disc I started to doze off and at one point actually drove off the road.

Fields—or his gullible label CRI—attempts to justify this dangerous length through the suspicion-raising claim that each of the three discs represents a complete, unique performance of this so-called “composition.” Common sense, or simple human decency, dictates that the composer, or conductor, or label A-and-R man, make some attempt to condense this test of one reviewer’s patience.

The best parts of each of the three discs should have been combined into a single roof-raising jam session. The best way would have been to take each of the 12 musicians’ solos and arrange them back-to-back. Myra Melford, for example, has several stirring solos, but they’re too short and too far apart. They should have been melded into one long ivory tickling so we could really check out this chick’s chops. Likewise, François Houle’s licorice stick licking should be sliced into one long, black blow, even though that would expose the Frenchman’s c’est la vie intonation. And Chi-Town Undergrounder Rob Mazurek’s gen-X excursions on Harmon-muted trumpet could have been a bitchin’ brew over the goosestepping ostinados of “Herr Contrabassman” Hans Sturm. Of course, running all of these solos together would have left scant room for any of the leader’s own fret work, but really that is just as well. — Swingin’ Thing Magazine

This That

What is Scott Fields’s fallacious mind ever possessed him to misuse, nay abuse, one of jazz’s greatest torch singers? Why tarnish her legacy with no greater goal than to nail a “big name” to his star-starved shingle? Regardless of how addled Peggy Lee has become, how advanced her Alzheimer’s disease, how confused and helpless she is in her current condition, there is no excuse for exploiting her fantasies as a jazz violoncellist. Whatever her promise must have been as a schoolgirl cellist in the early days of the horseless carriage, it is just too late, far too late, to rekindle those long lost evenings spent caressing catgut and rosin. All of that said, it is remarkable how well Ms. Lee manages the aforementioned violin, extra-value-meal size. Her intonation is as sharp as a coffin nail. The tremors in her hand shake loose a delicious vibrato. Her tone is as rich and well-aged as the grand dame herself. Her staccato strings snap like “Fever.” But still the essence of Ms. Lee has wafted away, diluted by too many cheap whiskeys and bummed cigarettes. Where is the swing? Where are the walking bass lines? (Do her high heels and satiny slit dresses make it impossible to lay down a respectable cello walk?) Where are the clever quotes from her many hits and the jazz standards with which she became so familiar in a million venues from faceless dives with beer-soaked stages to the very Tonight Show with Johnny Carson?

Fields rubs in her dementia by naming all of the “compositions” on This That some combination of “This” and “That.” “This is That.” “This is This.” “This isn’t That.” My God man! Isn’t it enough to humiliate this once-proud Jazz Artist (don’t you wish that you could say the same of yourself?) without demonstrating that she longer can distinguish this from that? The shame! Dylan van der Schyff (drums) also “contributes” to this travesty. — Swingin’ Thing Magazine

Mamet

Today’s hustle-bustle, no-time-for-mama world is a far too busy a place for serious reading. Realizing that there are many, and, let’s be frank here, possibly an infinite number of, great literary works whose pages I will never have the time, however desired, to peruse, it was with eager hope that I laid Scott Fields’ disc “Mamet” und mien plattenspieler. You see, Fields advertises his CD as a kind of “play on disc,” through which he hopes allow busy literati to speed listen to great word works. In this case he has condensed five of the great Chicago playwright David Mamet’s dramatic masterpieces to their instrumental essence. His scheme was to remove the words themselves, distilling the plays to raw emotion and scenario-atic movement, replacing English dialog with the universal language of music.

But with each passing guitar bar, with each incomprehensible thumping contrabass contribution, with each percussive phrase, my disappointment grew. As much as I tried to grasp Mamet’s meaning, the meandering musical misrepresentation of this giant of the American stage and movie house left my eyes glazed and my mind muddled. One cannot grasp even the barest of scene changes, or the movement from one act to the next, let alone the meaning of master Mamet’s universal utterances. Reading the script of “American Buffalo” while listening the identically titled track on Fields’ fraud was little help. In a final act of desperation, I viewed the video version of “Oleanna” (starring the multi-faceted William Macy, who although not in the fine form he displayed as “The Shoveler” in Mystery Men, gives a stirring performance) while listening to Fields’ version. Not only was the musical condensation out of sync with the video, which we know was the correct interpretation since it was directed by David Mamet himself, but it drowned out the dialog. My advice? If you want to bone up on these plays, rent the videos. Fields may have brazenly branded his “plays on disc” M-A-M-E-T, but a more appropriate spelling would have been F-A-I-L-U-R-E. — Swingin’ Thing Magazine

Richard B. Kamins

Fugu

I do not want to spoil the sense of discovery that the listener should get from Fugu. This is quiet, yet dynamic music that compels and invites you to listen. When you do, the results are very impressive. Give yourself time to move into this group’s creations. — Cadence Magazine

Thom Jurek

48 Motives

Scott Fields is nothing if not an academic composer, but he’s a visionary one. 48 Motives is a scored composition that is based on 48 eight-bar melodic fragments. These are built on a tonal system designed by Stephen Dembski of the interaction of two 12-pitch tone rows that are used to construct nontonal scales. It has been simplified and notated for improvisers exclusively. 48 Motives is written for four or more treble instruments in combination with two rhythm units, with at least a bass player and percussionist in each. Then, for the treble instruments, Fields composed 12 motives constructed on 12 closely related scales that were not related to the other three scale sets. Then he divvied them up among the other groups so that each had 12 of their own and four from the other three instruments. Finally he composed a rhythm element, giving 24 to one and 24 to another. Then a conductor uses the American Manual Alphabet as well as traditional conducting gestures to select motives, instrumentation, dynamics, tempo, and more. As musicians move back and forth between motives, the basic stock for their improvs changes. Now, this is all heady stuff, is it not? And all of it would be useless were it not for its compelling possibilities and the way those possibilities are explored by the instrumentalists at work here. And what a group of musicians he assembled. For the recorded premier he used pianist Marilyn Crispell, cellist Matt Turner, and his bandmates — John Padden and Geoff Brady — for a rhythm section, among others. Stephen Dembski conducted. There are so many things going on at once in this music, all of them so instinctually related and timbrally exotic, it’s difficult to nail down any one thing except for the dynamic range that follows a circular trajectory of empathy and force, led by Crispell. This music is magic, wonder, and mystery all rolled into one, and beguilingly accessible. Let’s face it, folks, Fields is a genius. — All Music Guide

David Keenan

This That

Guitarist Scott Fields grew up in the Hyde Park area of Chicago’s Southside, the very turf that birthed the AACM, and his Ensemble—a floating collective that over the years has included such luminaries as cornetist Rob Mazurek, percussionist Michael Zerang and guitarist Jeff Parker—is named in tribute to The Art Ensemble Of Chicago. This That is a heavy trio session, pairing Fields with cellist Peggy Lee and drummer Dylan Van Der Schyff, and it’s even better than Mamet, his extraordinary tribute to the plays of David Mamet that surfaced earlier this year. Whereas that was a subtle, conversational work, This That finds Fields tossing off manic proto-Metal flurries that land somewhere between the early motorpsycho extremities of guitarist Makoto Kawabata’s work with Musica Transonic and the heavy melodic strong work of free jazz guitarist Tisziji Muñoz. Cello and drums provide a skewered counterpoint, pirouetting around the margins as Fields channels straight through the heart. — The Wire

Mamet

Despite the potentially clunky concept — the compositions inspired by the plays of David Mamet — Chicagoan guitarist Scott Fields, here flanked by bassist Michael Formanek and drummer Michael Zerang, confounds expectations with a really listenable and inventive approach to group explorations. His score alternates bursts of Mamet dialogue with sections of directed improvisation. The group intone their lines like actors, mumbling phrases and snapping back in argument. Mamet’s writing is very aware of rhythms in speech patterns — most evident in the cyclical despair of American Buffalo. Fittingly enough, that play fuels one of the trio’s most swinging takes, moving into protorock territory that at points sounds like TNT-period Tortoise. The Woodsstarts quietly, subtly droning and chattering with a section “meant to evoke dusk near a pond in a Midwest forest with its crickets and loons and raccoons and wind rustling through the trees….” Tension builds and spills into violence, the group slamming straight into a wall of dead feedback, while a despairing undercurrent breaks and submerges the players. —  The Wire

Chris Kelsey

48 Motives

Whether or not a group later than a quartet can collectively improvise in an artful manner is an open question, even thirty-odd years after the recording of those two landmark albums [Free Jazz and Ascension], but if it is to happen, it seems certain that an imposed structure is necessary to avoid the pitfalls of utter cacophony. Fields’ ensemble does that, for the most part, and while in this particular performance the effect is not wholly successful, this talented composer has given more than a hint of how it may eventually come about. — Cadence Magazine

Jouko Kirstilä

Samuel

Sain vähän aikaa sitten jotenkuten päätä sekoittaneen Phillip Johnstonin erikoisen levyn selvitettyä, kun käsiini tuli toinen saman tyylinen nikkaroitavaksi. Mikäpä siinä, olen aina ollut erikoisuuksien tavoittelija. Joskus se vain tuntuu niin vaikealta. Voimakasrakenteinen raaka free on omiaan meikäläiselle. Se imee mukanaan. Scott Fieldsin kokoonpano ei kuitenkaan lupaa mitään tämän suuntaista. Sen voi havaita jo pelkästään katsomalla soitin yhdistelmää kokoonpanossa. Tiedossa on taiteellisesti sointujen ääripäiden hakemista. Musiikillinen kokonaisuus, jota ei voi kuunnella ohimennen toisella korvalla. Parempi on laittaa “lappuset” korville ja pakottaa itsensä syventymään saadakseen soittajien tavoittelemat tarkoitusperät selville. Raaka voima ja tempo siis puuttuvat tykkänään tästä “lättysestä”. Jonkinlaista sointien harmoniaa tästä kaikesta huolimatta voi lšytää, mutta ei se nyt mitenkään svengaa. Svengiä saa kyllä hakemalla hakea. Kolmannen kappaleen “Eh Joe” aivan loppuosassa soitto kulkee tehoja lisäten ja selkeä freen voima tulee esiin. Siinä kohdassa voisi jopa sanoa, että nyt svengaa.

Levyn nimi “Samuel” viittaa Samuel Beckettiin, joka on ollut Scott Fieldsin musiikillisen ilmaisun inspiroija hänen aikaisemmalla “Beckett” albumilla. En kyllä mitenkään lšydä sitä yhteyttä, mutta enpä silti ole Beckettin kirjalliseen tuotantoon myšskään syventynyt. Tämä levyn sisältšä on ammennettu lähinnä hänen näytelmäteoksista. On sanottu, että “Samuel Beckettin kirjalliset teokset näyttäytyvät abstrakteina heijastuksina Fieldsin sävellyksissä, joissa Ensemblen musiikillinen runous yhdistyy rikkaaseen dynamiikkaan”. Niinpä niin, hienosti on sanottu, mutta äärimmäisen abstraktinen käsite. Itse en tällaista yhteyttä pysty lšytämään. Sävellykset ovat käsittämättšmiä, epähavainnollisia, puhtaasti ajatuksellisia, joista en lšydä konkreettista pohjaa. Tässä kuljetaan hämärän rajamailla, missä improvisoidun ja kirjoitetun musiikin raja jää epäselväksi. Soittajat toimivat kuitenkin järjestäytyneesti ja soitto kulkee yhteen vakiintuneen kaavan mukaan. Se on kuitenkin varma, että yhdellä kuuntelulla tästä levystä ei saa paljoakaan irti.

Viidenkympin rajapyykin jo ylittänyt Scott Fields aloitteli itseoppineena rock muusikkona. Nykyään hänet tunnetaan parhaiten kitaristina, joka pyrkii sekoittelemaan sävellettyä musiikkia omintakeiseen itse kehitettyyn sävellajista toiseen siirtyvään kirjoitettuun musiikkiin, mikä on tullut hänen tavaramerkiksi aikaisemmista levytyksistä. Häntä voidaan nykyään pitää melko puhtaasti avant-garde jazzin ja kokeilevan uuden musiikin edustajana. Yhtye vieraili muuten juuri kesäkuun alussa Kerava Jazzeilla. Vahinko vaan, etten itse voinut lähteä Keravalle tänä vuonna, sillä kaikenlainen tällainen erikoisuus kiinnostaa ja konserttitilanne on aina oma lukunsa. Siellä se autenttisuus ja musiikillinen ilmaisu yleensä lšytyvät aivan eri tavalla kuin levyiltä. — Jazzrytmit

Markus Klohr

Afiadacompos

Wer Elliott Sharp kennt weiss, dass der ständige Verbleib im Experiment für den Gitarristen mehr zählt als Konvention und Schema. Im Instrumentalkollegen Scott Fields, einem zeitlos renitenten Rocker, hat Sharp einen Seelenverwandten gefunden. Ihr Stahlsaiten-Akustikgitarrenprojekt dokumentieren sie in der neuen Aufnahme “Afiadacampos”. Eine Klangreise mit unbekanntem Ziel, vorbei an den Urgrün den des reinen Klangs, dem Meer unendlicher Obertšne und zarten Melodiewšlkchen. Independent meets Jazz, Rock meets Classic, Sound meets Structure. Die beiden mischen Improvisation mit wohlbedachten Klangskizzen, Virtuosität mit simplem Saitenkrachen. Ein Heidenspass für die beiden Musiker, zweifellos. Ein hartes Stück Arbeit — lohnenswerte gleichwohl — für den Zuhörer. — Jazz Podium

Reiner Kobe

Scharfefelder

Elliott Sharp in allen Gassen: hin und wieder lässt sich der Gitarrist auf Zwiegespräche mit Kollegen ein Scharfefelder zieht sich mit einem Dutzend Stücke in die Länge. Das ausufernde Techtelmechtel aus wilder Ausgelassenheit, zarter Sinnlichkeit und abrupten Brüchen ermüdet auf die Dauer und ist wohl nur für Gitarren-Freaks geeignet. Scharfefelder bezeichnen kein musikalisches Neuland und sind insgesamt akustischer Kunst verpflichtet. Sie sind die direkte Übersetzung der beiden Protagonisten Namen Sharp und Fields. Der 1959 geborene Chicagoer Gitarrist Scott Fields mit Wohnsitz Köln hat mit vielen innovativen Vertretern des aktuellen Jazz gearbeitet. — Jazz Podium

Budd Kopman

Song Songs Song

Although we are told that first impressions are usually correct (the “go with your gut” approach), the liner notes for this release nearly derailed my enjoyment of the music. The notes, such as they are, were written by Fields and consist of a stream-of-consciousness collection of words and phrases in a postmodern style full of in-jokes and self-references, but also a lot of information if you stay with them (including a somewhat snide reference to Kali Fasteau, who does not even know Fields). Some of them are funny, even witty, and Fields actually makes a mistake (“Hendrix’s flat nines” [the Foxy Lady chord] is really a sharp nine), but one phrase is repeated quite a few times: “pitch and timbre over time.”

Boiled down, then, that phrase is exactly what this music is about. Fields gives some more hints, bolding and capitalizing the words melody, harmony, orchestration, rhythm, morphology, taxonomy, and osmosis, which are sprinkled through the notes. The title of the album Song Songs Song probably refers to the fact that tracks 1 and 6 are credited to Parker and tracks 2 through 5 to Fields. After a few close listens, one can easily hear motives or phrases, if not melody, that are presented, passed back and forth and developed, textures that thicken and thin, sound types that range from harmonics to severe distortion, slowly played sections next to ones with speedy runs, free rhythm juxtaposed against straight time.

Neither player can be called a traditional guitar player on this release, but Parker (left channel) is definitely the more lyrical and sentimental—“LK 92” has a very strong and (dare I say) pretty melody with a poignant secondary answering phrase; and “The Fields of Cologne” has an atmospheric “Frenchness” about it that draws one in, plus it has a definite quote from a jazz standard. Fields is much more in your face (note the song titles), and gets more “out there” sounds from his guitar, which come from the world of electronics and stomp boxes, sometimes scraping and pulling the strings (a picture shows him using a violin bow on his strings), sometimes using the volume knob to swell whatever distortion or feedback he is getting at the moment, and hence comes across as more experimental (despite the fact that there are obvious motivic figures), but always in control.

There is a certain messiness about the fast playing, but that might also be purposeful. I also have no idea how the players communicated their intentions to each other; how much was written out or how much was musical or visual cues. The tunes many times just trickle out, so unless you listen intently, where one track ends and another begins might be missed.

In sum, after a rough start, this album grew on me, and might be a winner for those who like to hear instruments pushed to the extreme, but within audible frameworks. — All About Jazz

Art Lange

Moersbow/OZZO

Premise: What the 1980s were for midsized ensembles in jazz, so this decade is becoming for large ensembles. That is, the effect that such bands as the David Murray Octet, Henry Threadgill Sextett, Edward Wilkerson Jr’s Eight Bold Souls, Anthony Davis’ Episteme, the Guus Janssen Septet, and Willem Breuker Kollektief, among others, had on the expansion of compositional strategies in an otherwise primarily improvisational format has a contemporary parallel in the increase in large ensembles and an accompanying elaboration on and emulation of a broader range of compositional influences (classical as well as jazz). By large ensemble I don’t mean simply big bands, with their established sectional formation, but a flexibly constituted chamber group — a mixture of individual horns and reeds, a rhythm section that may not necessarily function in the conventional fashion, with the important inclusion of several string players and, crucially, an electronic component. “Orchestra” is the word most often used to describe them, regardless of size, but I propose the term “broken consort,” borrowed from the Elizabethan name for an ensemble mixing instruments from different families. (Realistically, I don’t expect it to catch on, but what the hey.) 

…the large ensemble music of guitarist/composer Scott Fields on Moersbow/OZZO (Clean Feed) expresses a more traditional, not to say conservative, contemporary classical demeanor, which may in part be attributed to Fields’ past collaborations with composer Stephen Dembski, who himself studied at one time with Milton Babbitt. This twenty-four-piece broken consort, an outgrowth of the James Choice Orchestra that performed works by Matthias Schubert, Frank Gratkowski, Norbert Stein, and Carl Ludwig Hübsch on a 2008 Leo release, includes familiar names like reedman Gratkowski, tubaist Hübsch, saxophonist Schubert, synthesist Thomas Lehn, plus additional horns, string players, computer programmers, and a prominent accordion (Florian Standler). It should be noted that there is no James Choice, the name stems from a mispronunciation of James Joyce, which is why Fields’ calls his the Multiple Joyce Orchestra. But the music, like the band name, is a product of open-ended interpretations, multiple layers of meaning, and playful responses (it could have been the Multiple Choice Orchestra). In “Moersbow,’” a tribute to the Japanese noise band Merzbow ironically intended to be “as quiet as the musicians can manage,” the sotto voce drones, glimmering and hovering pitched and unpitched tones dissolve into serpentine lines only to end without resolution, a possible metaphor for the now destroyed Kurt Schwitters architecture (Merzbau) that provided the band’s name. Throughout the four-part ”OZZO,” perhaps due to Fields’ modular formats or the nature of the material presented to the players, the effect is of sound masses in motion, congealed from isolated lines. Flux is the order of the day; the harmonic fabric is ambiguously chromatic, different tempi are layered together, passages linger, rotate, stop, and reappear, instruments merge together in common themes and disrupt into broad polyphony or pile up vertically, often colored by jazzy brass growls and saxophone wails. The degree of composed to improvised music is uncertain, but the effect is of a process discovering its own form and concluding as a durable entity. — Point of Departure

Tom Laskin

Disaster at Sea

The Madison-based Scott Fields Ensemble doesn’t waste a moment on its sinewy debut for Berkeley’s Music & Arts. Picking up where the late Sonny Sharrock left off, Fields threatens to wear out his plectrum five minutes into “Sputter,” the furiously free second movement of “Disaster at Sea,” an intricately developed long-form work that evokes the tensions of its aqueous theme with unexpected irony. From then on, the guitarist/composer alternates between aggression and reflection, building a tonal architecture that’s consistently interesting and often quite stunning. — Isthmus

Kevin Lian-Anderson

Song Songs Song

Song Songs Song finds Fields and Parker claiming quite a bit of common ground with Parker’s trademark fluidity blending nicely with Fields’ clean abstraction. Parker’s “LK 92,” the album’s opener, exhibits the only real groove on the record with an ominous chord progression from Fields providing a fertile landscape through which Parker negotiates his limber strolls. When Fields joins the jaunty ramble, the guitarists’ interplay tantalizes with gorgeous, interwoven lines and hurried passages that are more Jim Hall than Derek Bailey. They leave this relatively accessible real estate behind with the four Fields-conceived “Untitled” pieces (the composition listings actually read as medium descriptions for visual works of art as in “Untitled, 2004, Dried Blood On Gauze, Elastic Strip With Adhesive Backing”). These selections are markedly unstable objects with extended periods of reflective calm interrupted by agitated, tussling chatter from the six-stringed interlocutors; volume knobs are played with, pedals are engaged, and a bit of dirt is thrown on the canvas at times. Despite all the labor involved and some inspired moments, the tracks tend to meander aimlessly, never really marshalling a truly compelling reason to stick with the hike for its duration.

“The Fields of Cologne,” another Parker composition, finishes the record, thus fulfilling the simple logic of the album’s title. Much freer than “LK 92,” the introspective piece practically begs for the sinewy cornet of Rob Mazurek (Parker’s colleague from the Chicago Underground assemblies) to slip into the conversation. It is evident after listening to these two very different recordings [Song Songs Song and christangelfox] that Fields succeeds most profoundly when he casts his conceptual net far and wide. — One Final Note

Song Songs Song, christangelfox

Scott Fields has toiled in relative obscurity since the late 60s—languishing, like the Freakwater song goes, in the Midwest like some old romantic fool—but his burgeoning body of work (he didn’t start actively recording and releasing his own material until the early 1990s) has collected a significant coterie of critical admirers. The guitarist is noted for the craft and care he demonstrates when choosing his collaborators, and I don’t think one can quarrel with the conscripts he dragooned for the two efforts in question here. Song Songs Song is a duo session with fellow fretman Jeff Parker, while christangelfox is a trio date with reedist Guillermo Gregorio and cellist Matt Turner.

By my lights, christangelfox’s minimalist excursion constitutes the stronger work; its measured approach and subtle instrumentation—each player textures the unfolding drama with startlingly effective percussive accents coaxed from pieces of wood, metal, and stone, “all floating freely on open-cell foam slabs” according to Fields’ own liner notes—evokes a mystical space that is unsettling one moment and curiously uplifting the next. Never one to be boxed in conceptually, Fields has referenced the deep musical history of myriad Asian cultures (particularly in his use of the unorthodox percussion arrangement) to construct an hour-long solemn meditation grounded in a single scale. Together, the musicians spin a paradoxical fabric that is intensely ascetic even while it unspools its complex narrative thread. One particularly arresting passage occurs at the midway point when Fields introduces a delicate ostinato guitar figure that heightens the tension while Turner and Gregorio awaken to the call and respond with searching expressions. It is a testament to Fields’ remarkable facility for blending composition with free improvisation in a seamless fashion. — One Final Note

Kevin Lynch

96 Gestures

“96 Gestures” is based on a huge score of 96 motifs or “gestures” that musicians play and improvise on, as per a conductor’s cues. By controlling the durations of the phrase length, the conductor could “create contrasts of cohesiveness of pulsation in the tradition of Steve Reich,” writes annotator Stephen Dembski, a professor of music at UW-Madison, who conducted the work. But the effect is far more unfettered and unpredictable than Reich’s chattering, modular-sounding music.

“96 Gestures” grows, from oddly shifting and beguiling rhythmic interactions, into some fairly woolly collective improvs, but it never sounds chaotic. That’s due to the score’s undergridding, Dembski’s guidance and to the extraordinary skill and invention of these fine musicians. Besides guitarist Fields, the ensemble includes saxophonist-flutist Joseph Jarman, pianist Myra Melford, clarinetist François Houle, cornetist Rob Mazurek, oboist-English hornist Robbie Lynn Hunsinger, cellist Matt Turner, bassists Hans Sturm and Jason Roebke, and percussionists Damon Short and Dylan Van Der Schyff.

The result, even through three 60-minute-plus takes, is eminently listenable new music. Charming, quirky dance-like duets and trios mushroom into larger collectives. You won’t forget a plaintive passage of long tones for trumpet, saxophone, bowed basses and drums, about 19 minutes into the opening performance. Each take is quite different, like a landscape constantly mutating into new forms and colors. — The Capital Times

Olaf Maikopf

Sharfefelder

Gleich zwei neue CDs des seit fünf Jahren in Köln lebenden Chicagoer Gitarristen Scott Fields erscheinen dieser Tage auf dem interessanten Lissabonner Improviser-Label Clean Feed. Fields kennt man von seinen Arbeiten mit Joseph Jarman, Hamid Drake, Mat Maneri, Marilyn Crispell, Michael Formanek, oder Jeff Parker, alle veröffentlicht auf Kleinstlabels wie Black Saint, Delmark, und Music and Arts. Scharfefelder — sorry, diesen Titel, zusammengesetzt aus den übersetzten Nachnamen der zwei Gitarristen Sharp und Fields, finde ich nicht so richtig lustig. Doch vielleicht ist diese strikte Eins-zu-eins-Übersetzung ja auch absolut ernst gemeint, denn musikalisch geht es in dieser «neuen Kammermusik» meist kratzbürstig zu. Da wird lustvoll so einiges zitiert, erinnert (in den packendsten Momenten) an Larry Coryell’s Spiel bei «Spaces», kurze Akkorde lassen auch an mittelalterliche Lautenmusik denken. Ausgiebige leidenschaftliche Improvisationsgefechte ausschließlich auf akustischen Gitarren, wilde Ausgelassenheit, zarte Sinnlichkeit, abrupte Brüche — wahrscheinlich ist das alles provokativ gemeint, soll den Hörer herausfordern. Aber ob sich, außer auf Improvisation versessene Gitarristen und Hardcorefans der beiden Saitenderwische, noch jemand für deren introvertierten Streifzug durch die Scharfefelder interessiert? Nach fast siebzig Minuten gebe ich mich geschlagen — ganz ehrlich, mir ist dieses orgiastische «Geschrammel» zu anstrengend. — 4 stars (out of 5) Jazzthetik

Todd McComb

Barclay

Ayler Records continues to release some distinctive items, and I see that I haven't had much to say about any of their releases since Joëlle Léandre's Can you hear me? (in September 2016), so although it's composed music, I want to make a few remarks about the recent album Barclay by the Scott Fields Ensemble (a quartet).... I'd actually noted Fields relatively early in this project for his unique personal style on guitar, but hadn't had much to say, largely for the same reason, namely that his releases tend to be relatively composed. In fact, I'd only mentioned him to this point around Conference of Analogies by the Eckard Vossas 4 (a Creative Sources release, also with Simon Nabatov, discussed in April 2017), saying that the "idiosyncratic sense of movement & transition does continue to remind me of Fields elsewhere." A similar comment applies to Barclay, which is actually the third in a Samuel Beckett Trilogy from Fields — with the first two (also eponymic) titles appearing in 2007 & 2009, i.e. a while ago now. Indeed, not only does Fields have a taste for Beckett, but literary inspiration in general, having e.g. composed for the Multiple Joyce Orchestra as well.... Moreover, Ayler has already supported a similar orientation in e.g. Marc Ducret's Tower Series (inspired by Vladimir Nabokov), along with the various other (mostly composed) new concepts that they've been releasing.... However, Barclay is an instrumental album, and doesn't attempt to "transcribe" the three plays on which its three tracks are based, but rather to render them into music diagrammatically, i.e. as inspired by the basic motion & feel of the texts, their characters & pacing etc.: There is thus usually a bunching (knotting), halting style, with bursts of activity often followed by repose, then more activity again, etc. (The final track is both more contrapuntal & more sustained in its activity, with a couple of basic figurations weaving together....) I certainly don't claim to be an expert on Beckett or literature per se in general (at least not from an "inside" perspective), but I do appreciate these sorts of trans-modal projects, i.e. making something out of something else, particularly across forms & genres. (After all, it's what I'm so often doing here!) There's thus a formal inspiration, both more broadly, and according to individual phrases: Fields (on electric guitar) is joined by Matthias Schubert (tenor sax), Scott Roller (cello) & Dominik Mahnig (percussion) to form colorful & appealing timbral combinations as well, such that the halting bursts are often distinctive & sparkling on their own — beyond formal considerations. (I'd also mentioned Mahnig in a piano trio with Nabatov back in February 2016, but hadn't actually mentioned Schubert previously, and Roller is new to me.) It's thus an enjoyable (& contemporary) sounding quartet, often with a "jazz" vibe (& with very clear & warm recorded sound), yet sometimes projecting more of a rock ambience around guitar.... (So let me also note that the music could hardly be more different from e.g. Feldman's organ-esque For Samuel Beckett....) It does seem to me to forge a "sound" & style, though, one that would be conducive to a more spontaneous approach. (And in my terms, that's what composition per se is for....) Todd McComb's Jazz Thoughts

Seven Deserts

Another prominent US guitarist-composer — although apparently working more in Europe these days — is Scott Fields: I'd discussed Fields in January 2019, around Barclay, a jazzy quartet "rendering" some of Samuel Beckett's words into music (& the third such Fields album): That series not only has a literary inspiration, but consequently involves a variety of angular lines & twisty forms. Something similar could be said, then, of the new Seven Deserts from Fields in an ensemble of twenty musicians (plus conductor) recorded in Cologne in November 2019. That the ensemble is much larger — & the conductor is improvising as well, including by selecting among the extensive optional materials Fields provides — is an obvious difference, and of course I've not emphasized larger ensembles in this space, but Seven Deserts is ultimately a wonderfully colorful & evocative album, and so I do also want to note it. In fact, other than the size of the ensemble, Fields' approach here parallels that of [Joe] Morris for Instantiation, specifically Switches, in that a graphical score is supplemented by traditionally notated material to be optionally inserted, and such that the "form" of the piece is improvised as well. In both cases, the album consists of multiple renderings of the same score — seven of them on Seven Deserts, making for an ample album of more than an hour — that illustrate just how differently it can sound, and at least in the case of Fields (who chose among more renderings for the album), serve to round out a compelling overall cycle. So those parallels are interesting, particularly since Morris's work is presented more within an improvised or jazz horizon, and Fields' is presented (by New World Records, and so via a very different marketing arm than Morris's DIY approach) as a classical piece. (In both cases, not only might the compositions be described as frameworks for improvising, but they could be described as generating those more specific frameworks on the spot.) And although the size of the ensemble might support such a distinction, particularly the use of a conductor, such forces & conduction are hardly unknown in the jazz world, such that this would seem to be a differentiation aimed more at audiences: And Fields' music is indeed wonderfully evocative, with a sort of rock guitar vibe really only presenting in the sixth track, amid a colorful timbral variety throughout.... The music is generally dodecaphonic (as is much of Morris's on Switches...), but sultry, spacious, wistful in turns as well. The ensemble also includes some notable players, underscoring the weight of this compositional milestone for Fields: E.g. Frank Gratkowski & Ingrid Laubrock join the reeds section, Pascal Niggenkemper & Christian Weber are on bass (in a seven member string section), David Stackenäs joins Fields on guitar — & medievalist Norbert Rodenkirchen is often prominent as one of three flutes. Sometimes the result is quite a racket, but more often a variety of radiant colors & open textures emerge as some musicians rest.... There's also something maybe a little too steady or relentless about the pulse or pace.... (Morris keeps to a rather steady pulse on Switches as well.) But the more jagged spaces of Fields' earlier compositions are generally filled here with bustling color. (Morris was thus more concerned with the nitty gritty of small figures, more often my own musical orientation — and different already from his approach on Locale, which includes more "lingering" itself — while Fields produces more of a richly colored & showy canvas. I'd expect a classical audience to enjoy it, except that they're generally too conservative to stomach anything atonal in concert — even after one hundred years.) The sense of organic landscape yields in turn a real feeling of (musical & natural) beauty — sometimes embracing human activity as well. I guess the sound of a desert then becomes something other than the sound of a desert (via a sort of contemporary surrealism, perhaps). Impressive. Todd McComb's Jazz Thoughts

Marc Medwin

We Were The Phliks

This album does not reveal its secrets easily. The proceedings start slowly and sparsely enough, but, very quickly, we are thrust headlong into a densely packed quartet of intense contrapuntal improvisations, full of long blisteringly fast lines. The occasional rhythms prevail, but they are quickly usurped by further post-post-Bop interregistral runs.

The results are initially exhausting, and on first listen, Thomas Lehn and Xu Fengxia provide the only relief in the form of varied texture. Lehn’s synthwork has always been a pleasure to hear, endlessly inventive and compatible with almost anything. Xu Fengxia is new to me, but her work here is brilliant, exhibiting the best timbral traits of European improv peppered with what I can only describe as touches of pan-ethnicity. Sudden shifts in volume, pitch, and duration make her contributions forceful but beautiful.

Only the final track presents some welcome moments of repose, and, I might add, some of the most intricate and gorgeous group improv on the disc. Long drones swell, shimmer and fade, guitar gliding in softly to obscure itself in saxophone shadows. When the lines return, they are slow, almost languid, the players seemingly more willing to accommodate space.

As interesting and engaging as these pieces ultimately can be, Fields’ playing strikes me as too similar throughout. Perhaps it’s just a sound I don’t like, or with which I need more acquaintance, but almost constant runs executed in a very homogeneous timbral spectrum don’t help matters. The fourth piece in particular holds incredible promise, for all members of the ensemble, and I hope that this group will continue exploring in that direction. — Cadence Magazine

Dénouement

Scott Fields’ compositional world is forbidding at best, almost impenetrable at worst. Billed as a double trio and actually recorded ten years ago, Dénouement lends itself more easily to immediate comprehension because of the stereo placement of the six players. Additionally, or maybe as a result, the textures are somewhat thinner, or more accessible,than on more recent releases. The opening guitar duo breathes with refreshing transparency, and when the other instruments enter, it is as if each, aware of his doppelganger, is extra careful not to tread on any toes. The compositions themselves, structures rather than always strictly notated, also allow for more space and silence; simply listen to Nothing had been Wrong to spot the aesthetic. A beautiful bass glissando opens a meditative full group exploration, Kline and Parker’s guitar styles of a piece, even combining with high arco playing from the bassists to eerie effect. The album swings and lopes with downright pleasantness, not that any of the sure-fire improvisational prowess of other efforts is sacrificed — far from it! All complement each other quite nicely in what might be described as a harmolodic journey through structured improvisation. — Cadence Magazine

Bill Meyer

Drawings

What’s your framework? Every creative musician, even the freest, operates within one. Consider Scott Fields, for example. There’s a lot of spontaneity in the Chicago-born, German-based guitarist’s music, but it arises from carefully selected structures. In the case of Drawings, he has both internalized and responded to another artist’s process in order to stoke his own. Each of its 99 brief performances is an immediate response to an image by Swiss artist Thomas Hornung.

The album’s sleeve notes portray Hornung, who is apparently so obscure that he is virtually Google-proof, as a man of rigid habits. He spends each day following the same schedule, lives in two identically furnished rooms, and each night he spends an hour dashing off images on one piece of A4 paper every minute or so, with time out for cigarette breaks. Fields, in turn, took a sheaf of Hornung’s drawings (which are reproduced on the tray card) and tried to play for as long as Hornung had drawn; the denser the inking, the longer he played. But nothing lasts too long, and the whole CD runs just 46:20.

This brevity may be a formal triumph, but it makes for frustrating listening. There’s a fair bit of variety, from Nels Cline-like shredding to swelling feedback to elegantly plucked shapes to music box-like chimes. But none of it develops. Of course, these tracks weren’t supposed to, but the result is still a choppy and unsatisfying listen. Ironically the soundtrack to an accompanying video by Arno Oehri, which shows Hornung and Fields at work, is more engaging. It is comprised of raw material from the sessions, drastically slowed down and pitched so low that it doesn’t sound like guitar anymore. Since the video has no other sounds, one has plenty of time to savor Fields’ slow-mo gestures, and plenty of motivation; the video’s 55 minutes is way too long to watch Fields play divorced from anything you hear. — Dusted

Jon Morgan

Five Frozen Eggs

Context is the operative for success regarding Scott Fields’ musical vision. While capable guitarists are a dime a dozen, only a handful compose and improvise in a challenging setting with the consistency of Fields. By surrounding himself with players of the highest caliber, Fields’ group suggests a finely tuned, living entity. This quartet serves as an important reminder of what creative improvised music has to offer. In this case, a nimble musical vehicle with all-wheel drive. — Cadence Magazine

Disaster at Sea

Almost frightening in its execution, this is a trio that creates music of overwhelming density… Even in their freest moments, the group has a high level of discipline and conference. For the most part, the improvisations appear democratic, with the lead equally shared between Turner and Fields. Davis meticulously accents and shadows the assertions of the duo; his shimmering cymbals echo their distortion while the din of his snares and toms enhance the color of the dialogue. Whether it be the slurred, raucous guitar, or the ominous resonating cello, their improvisations are full of textural fervor, resulting in a sound as jarring and explosive as the calamity that influenced it. — Cadence Magazine

Brian Morton

Minaret Minuets

Here’s a duo record that confounds the lazy — and often mystifying — assumption that the language of duo improvisation is some kind of “conversation”. Sometimes improvisation works most effectively when there is no evidence negotiation or even communication between the two elements. That isn’t quite the case here, but electric guitarist Scott Fields and tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert have the mutual confidence to pursue independent lines in parallel. Strictly, these are Fields’ lines, since “Dipstick Triptych", “Santa on a Segway” and “Gidget Widget Wacker” are his compositions, but the execution is bipartisan, clever and supremely confident, like two opinionated guys who don’t see the need to wait for the other to pause before they get their two cent’s worth. — The Wire

Brian Olewnick

From the Diary of Dog Drexel

For this recording, composer Scott Fields assembled a core group from the cream of Chicago’s improvising scene (with the importation of trumpet ringer Greg Kelley from Boston) to have them investigate his scores that seek to blur the line between written and improvised music. Generally, those lines aren’t too tough to discern, his composed music sounding something akin to the post-serial style employed by, for example, Anthony Braxton in similarly defined works. Unfortunately, there is also a like dryness and whiff of academic orientation in this writing as well; one gets the vague impression of having heard these motifs on many an occasion over the last 30 or so years. The improvisational sections also carry something of an oil and water quality. On the one hand, some of the musicians bring a jazz-like conception that often seems at odds with the tenor of the pieces while, on the other, someone like Kelley, one of the finest and most imaginative players on the free improv scene, sounds constrained by the format, unnecessarily corralled into a relatively narrow area. The group sound itself is usually quite appealing given the range of instrumentation involved, and percussionist Carrie Biolo stands out for her strong contributions, but the lack of expansiveness in the scoring leaves one feeling stifled after the first four pieces. The final track, Medicated (this dog evidently was having a pretty bad day), is another bowl of tapioca entirely. Here, Gregory Taylor has taken taped samples of each musician improvising on his or her own and assembled a rich, fascinating work that goes a long way toward salvaging the whole affair, a gust of cool, crisp air entering a musty room. — All Music Guide

Frank-Uwe Orbons

Scott Fields String Feartet live — Brühl, Germany

Radikale und ungewöhnliche Interpretation
Der US-amerikanische Gitarrist Scott Fields überraschte mit einer spannenden Hörreise

Brühl. Eines der vier abschließenden Konzerte der Brühler Schlosskonzerte hatte das kammermusikalische Schaffen des österreichischen Komponisten Joseph Haydn zum Thema. Dabei hatte die künstlerische Leitung des Festivals ein mutiges Programm angesetzt. Normalerweise werden in Brühl die Werke Joseph Haydns von den Musikern konservativ interpretiert. Im nüchternen Ambiente des Dorothea-Tanning-Saals im nahe gelegenen Max-Ernst-Museum konnte man am Wochenende jedoch eine zeitgenössische Interpretation erleben, die sich keinem Genre zuordnen lässt.

Der US-amerikanische Gitarrist und Komponist Scott Field, der seit geraumer Zeit in Köln lebt, hat sich von den sechs Streichquartetten op. 20, die auch unter der Bezeichnung „Sonnenquartette” kursieren, zu einer ganz eigenen Komposition inspirieren lassen. In sechs „Re-Imaginationen” spürte er den Werken Joseph Haydns nach, die die Grundlage für Fields Konzept bilden. 

Die Änderung begann schon mit der Besetzung. Der zweite Violinpart des klassischen Streichquartetts wurde durch eine E-Gitarre ersetzt, die Field selbst spielte und auf der er mit seinen verzerrten Riffs für Verwirrung sorgte. Im „Scott Fields String Feartet” spielten auch die technisch hervorragenden Alex Lindner (Violine), Vincent Royer (Viola) und Elisabeth Fügemann (Violoncello). 

Scott Fields setzte seine Interpretation Joseph Haydns musikalisch um, indem er den Quartetten Haydns kein Ambiente überstülpte, wie man es vielleicht von Jacques Loussier oder den Klazz Brothers kennt. Vielmehr dekonstruierte oder besser atomisierte er die Musik des Österreichers und setzte sie danach neu zusammen. 

Angeregte Diskussionen

Das Ergebnis war so radikal und ungewöhnlich, dass es beim Publikum bereits während der Aufführung zu angeregten Diskussionen führte. Field sprach davon, dass er die „DNA” des Komponisten an manchen Stellen durchscheinen lässt. Dieses geschah willentlich, aber auch zufällig, da Field seinen Mitspielern die Freiheit der Improvisation ließ. 

Mit Hilfe von Loops, Endlos schleifen, die das Original zitieren, variablen Abschnitten, wie improvisiert wirkenden Solo-Kadenzen und zahlreichen spieltechnischer Finessen blieb das klangliche Ergebnis nicht bei Haydn stehen Vielmehr floss die Fülle musikalischer Errungenschaften vor Haydn bis in die heutige Zeit mi ein: 

Man tauchte in die Gedanken welt des Komponisten ein: Im Unterbewusstsein tauchten mal Erinnerungen auf, mal schimmerten ein Thema oder eine motivische Arbeit durch, mal auch nur ein Rhythmus. Es war wie bei einem Ohrwurm, der hartnäckig da ist und man nicht mehr genau weiß, woher man ihn kennt. Ab und an gewannen bei der Aufführung auch andere Stimmen die Oberhand, gespeist aus dem Werk Haydns. — Kölner Stadt-Anziger

Nick Ostrum

 Barclay

On Barclay, the third in a series of Scott Fields releases inspired by Samuel Becket, guitarist and composer Fields is joined by Matthias Schubert (tenor saxophone), Scott Roller (cello), and Dominik Mahnig (percussion). The result is a fine and playful take on contemporary free jazz. In ways, it evokes the abstract and fragmented marches of Anthony Braxton and his prodigy. In other ways, it is more melodic, less densely layered, and more rooted in a jazz vernacular, and, in that sense, fits right in with some of the label’s recent ensemble releases from Marc Ducret and Joelle Leandre.

Fields and co. do not shy from rests and silence. Rather, they effectively integrate frequent stops and starts, unpredictable wends and wafts into their compositions. Barclay’s three tracks are composed of brief phrases, woven together into calico tapestries of sharp, syncopated bursts of energy and harmony. Rather than flowing smoothly, the first track, “Krapp’s Last Take,” sounds as if the musicians are carving their song out of a craggy medium rather than constructing it from the inside out. Track two, “…but the clouds…” develops more organically around a series of guitar and saxophone melodies, but nevertheless remains stilted and jarring. The closer, “Catastrophe,” similarly grows around a series of truncated melodic runs overlaid with ambient clicks, whistles, and percussive fluttering, though to a slightly smoother effect. This is complex and exciting music. It is, as the third title indicates, a catastrophe, but in the word’s older sense of sudden, unexpected twists and turns. A fitting homage to Beckett and a fine addition to the Ayler catalogue. — Free Jazz Blog

Harvey Pekar

Fugu

Listen, Madison! In composer-guitarist Scott Fields you have an accomplished, creative jazz artist — an innovator. That’ll come as a surprise to you. He’s not that well known in town, let alone nationally. 

Currently there isn’t a lot of respect for innovation in jazz. The most popular performers aren’t even mainstream artists; they're reactionaries. But it’s people like Fields who keep art alive, fresh and growing. He’s facing today's musical challenges, not ignoring them. 

What are these challenges? Many stem from the free-jazz style of the 1960s reaching a dead end. Free jazz then sometimes became unrestrained and self-indulgent. The musicians played as fast and as loud as they could, screaming and rasping, without giving any thought to pace. The fact that they eschewed chord changes did not aid many in playing inventively. 

By the mid-1970s there was a crying need for more structured jazz performances. In response to this, many young musicians became traditionalists. Others, such as Anthony Braxton, John Zorn and Roy Nathanson, moved ahead in a variety of ways. Fields can be included in their camp. Fields himself has picked up ideas from the AACM jazzmen in his native Chicago, as well as Cecil Taylor. 

You’ve got to concentrate on this CD closely to get the maximum from it. These guys are subtle; they don’t hit you over the head. But they’re doing groundbreaking work and deserve a hearing. — Isthmus

Running with Scissors

Guitarist, composer, and long-Time Madison resident Scott Fields has recorded an ambitious jazz CD. His compositions vary from diatonic to whole-tone to variations of 12-tone systems, including one developed by University of Wisconsin's Stephen Dembski. There is a rhythmic and metric chance-taking going on here as well. Much of "1/3 Dutch" is played out of tempo, "An Ounce of Sense" employs four against three meters, and "Is That Oshawa?" is in 5/4 time.

Despite all of the experimentation going on, traditional elements remain. "Hurricane Sponge Bath" is a blues, and "Roses at the Great Dismal Swamp" is very similar to Wayne Shorter's "Footprints." Much of the music here is lyrical and sensitively played. Fields is a thoughtful, original stylist who plays two varieties of acoustic guitar. Vibist Robert Stright improvises with lucidity and a whole lot of chops and imagination. Trombonist Derek James, employing an aggressive attack, takes a lot of chances, making a fresh choice of notes, using frequent register changes and breaking up his lines unpredictably.

One of the CD's hight points is the ensemble playing: bassist John Padden and drummer Geoff Brady deserve considerable praise for their part in it. Both are comfortable in non-timekeeping roles, constantly keeping things moving. Brady is a fine, subtle colorist.

Running with Scissors is an important, substantive CD, and I hope Madison supports this quintet to the extent that their music will have an opportunity to be appreciated round the country. — Isthmus

From the Diary of Dog Drexel

Over the years, Fields has been a kind of one-man avant-garde, doing a variety of original work in Madison, Wisconsin, and this album continues his mission with the usual humane understatement. A goal of the first four movements of this five-movement piece is to blur the distinction between written and improvised music. During those movements, at least one written part and one improvised part is steadily played by two of the album’s five musicians — Fields on guitar, Carrie Biolo on vibes, marimba and unpitched percussion, Guillermo Gregorio on alto sax and clarinet, and Greg Kelley on trumpet — while the remaining three either improvise or play written music, constantly shifting the balance between the two. The fifth movement, composed by Gregory Taylor, uses Cycling 74’s Max/MSP software to blend and processes the solo work of each ensemble member. 

Overall, the results are pleasingly low-keyed, with all sorts of unusual colors and textures being produced. There’s a lot of contrapuntal work here, but the musicians stay out of each other’s way, making their work easy to follow. But that doesn’t make it shallow. B PLUS — Urban Dialect

Five Frozen Eggs

Fields wrote all of the compositions on this stimulating CD and plays them on guitar with pianist Marilyn Crispell, bassist Hans Sturm, and percussionist Hamid Drake. Despite often performing quietly, they take plenty of risks. Fields employs harmonic and rhythmic/metric concepts derived from composer Stephen Dembski, which he’s modified for use in an improvising context. Often his group’s playing, though not conventionally melodic, is lyrical. Much of the disc features thoughtful, pointillistic collective improvisation. Crispell’s the most aggressive player here and performs impressively. Her work ranges from pensive to jarringly percussive, but is always well thought out, inventive, and clearly articulated. Fields plays economically, concentrating on adding color to the ensemble. Sturm and Drake make valuable contributions, listening closely to what’s going on and responding with intelligence and creativity. — Jazziz

Paolo Peviani

Beckett

Scott Fields è un chitarrista che definire jazz sarebbe molto riduttivo. La definizione che lui stesso dà della sua musica è “post-free jazz”, ed “exploratory music”. In realtà, il suo maggior riferimento è il sistema tonale di Stephen Dembski, compositore che il chitarrista ha conosciuto nel 1991. 

Beckett, album dedicato allo scrittore irlandese, è comunque il suo album più “jazzistico” (virgolette d'obbligo). Sporadicamente infatti (ad esempio in “Come and Go”, oppure al ventesimo minuto di “What Where”) è possibile rinvenirne alcune (poche e brevi) tracce. E sono, questi, i momenti più riusciti dell'album che, nei suoi quasi ottanta minuti, ci appare invece di una noia mortale. 

L'album contiene infatti molta ricerca strumentale e timbrica, già difficile da digerire nelle performance dal vivo, ma che qui ci pare anche senza costrutto. Siamo consapevoli che dire queste cose ci fa passare per benpensanti che vogliono solo “muovere il piedino”. Non è così, e non siamo neppure dei fautori dell'Ars Consolatoria. E però non siamo nemmeno dei Tafazzi (Giacomo Tafazzi, personaggio creato da Aldo, Giovanni e Giacomo, che si martella le parti intime). 1 stelle — All About Jazz, Italy

Stefan Pieper

Kintsugi

Das Streicher-Kammerensemble als Medium   zur expressiven Konzentration, für Abenteuerlust, Wagemut und kompromisslose Strenge auf der einen Seite, die Jazzgitarre als Impulsgeber, als Erzähler, zwei Welten, die sich im Feartet von Scott Fields begegnen. 

Wenn man die neue CD des aus Chicago stammenden Gitarristen zum wiederholten Male furchtlos durchgehört hat und darüber staunt, wie mitreißend-hypnotisch hier selbst die sperrigsten Klangwelten inszeniert werden, dann hat sich jedes Nachdenken über Crossover-Begriffe längst verflüchtigt Quartettbesetzung zu bilden. 

Aber was sind schon Rollenverteilungen, wenn doch Variabilität und das Austesten von Konstellationen auf der Agenda stehen? Axel Lindner (violin), Vincent Royer (viola) und Elisabeth Fügemann (cello), die auch Jazz-Cello studiert hat, stehen dem freigeistigen Gitarristen auf jeden Fall als extrem wagemutige Musikerpersönlichkeiten aus der Kölner Szene zur Seite. Und dann geht es auch schon ohne weitere Gelegenheit zum Atemholen oder Zurücklehnen nach vorn. Da tropfen gerade noch einige puristische Webernsche Klangtupfer von der Decke hinab — minutiös und formstreng herausdestillierte Klangereignisse sind das! Aber der einsetzende, ruhelos vibrierende Spielfluss von Scott Fields’ Gitarre versetzt alles sogleich in lässiges Swingen und in einen schier rauschhaften Fluss hinein. Fields gibt mit seinen Fingen die Richtung dieses Ideenflusses vor und lässt sich all dies mit den Klangfarben des Quartetts übermalen. Das setzt en dissonantes Actionpainting mit akustischen Signalen, verdichteten Geräuschwelten mit jeder Verweigerung an das banale „Schöne“, dafür mit furchteinflößender Kratzbürstigkeit frei. Bögen sausen und dreschen perkussiv über die Saiten. Es fetzt, flirrt und gleißt, Klangkaskaden brechen wie Eruptionen aus dem Instrumentarium hervor. Spielerische Gesten verwirbeln sich, werden im wütenden Sturm fortgerissen. Das Ganze ist genau dosiert, erscheint bei mehrmaligem Hören immer ausdifferenzierter, denn die zugrundeliegende Ideenfülle ist immens und geht weitgehend auf Scott Fields kompositorische Feder zurück. 

Die Stücke auf der CD wechseln in ihrem Gestus, ihrem Tempo, ihrer Grundidee. Mal baut alles auf einer Grundstruktur auf, doch dann swingt, groovt und rockt es auch schon wieder. Es ist eine Spiellust, die zur Spielwut wird. Die sämtliche Klangmöglichkeiten des Streichquartetts auslotet und mit dem ganzen expressiven Reichtum eines wagemutig nach vorn blickenden elektrischen Gitarrenspiels durchtränkt und gesättigt ist. „Es geht nicht darum, unsere Hörgewohnheiten zu reflektieren, sondern darum, unsere Ohren zu öffnen für eine Neuinterpretation des bisher Gehörten“, findet sich der hohe Anspruch dieser Produktion im Begleittext auf den Punkt gebracht. Scott Fields hat hiermit zum ersten Mal auf dem Label Between the Linesveröffentlicht. Auf jeden Fall ist er dort in guter Gesellschaft mit früheren Weggefährten in Sachen freier Musik, etwa Gerry Hemingway oder Frank Gratkowski. Auch mit Marylin Crispell oder Hamid Drake war er schon unterwegs. Aktuell lebt er in Köln und spielt dort regelmäßig mit fast einem Dutzend Ensembles zusammen. — Jazzthetik

Christopher Porter

Mamet

His solo technique is somewhat like the David Mamet plays that Fields uses as his inspiration for the CD’s titles: Mamet’s characters often converse in brief, elliptical dialogues that circle back on each other like Abbott and Costello doing heavy drama. Unlike Mamet’s writing, though, there is little humor or true tension in Fields’ music, which tends toward completely free improvisation, with little or no contrapuntalism among the players. Tracks like “Edmond” and “American Buffalo” come and go like an off-Broadway play, leaving little impression in the process. “The Woods” begins with almost two minutes of silence before the faintest sounds gurgle to the surface, and then it’s all timbral effects for the next seven, The song continues for another 10, and actually picks up some steam for a few minutes, but “The Woods,” like Mamet, is a potentially funny joke with a big buildup and a so-so punch line. — Jazz Times

Massimo Ricci

Barclay

Barclay comes nine years post Samuel, second installment (after Beckett) of the “Beckett Trilogy” devised by Scott Fields to research the compositional and improvisational possibilities offered by his favorite writer’s output. Quite a span, but it was worth the wait. This embodiment of Fields’ Ensemble – including, besides the leader, Matthias Schubert on tenor sax, Scott Roller on cello and Dominik Mahnig on drums – probes the interstices of instrumental momentum with the earnestness of a focused scientist, at the same time releasing the energy of a well-oiled engine that, for mysterious reasons, defies the conventional rules of propulsion.

The music, as we expect by composers at this level, is intelligibly eloquent. It is also defined by a sort of severe humor – not easy to detect, but it is there – and frequently based on the alternance of inquisitive urgency and brief anticipatory silences; the latter feature is particularly evident in the first movement, “Krapp’s Last Tape”. One gets the feeling of musicians eager to apprehend what the others have studied and practiced; talkative, yet respectful enough to abruptly stop whenever someone enters a new statement. This somewhat hiccuping reciprocity generates a drive that is unusual, to say the least. Moreover, the piece imparts a fundamental nugget of wisdom: never trust the security of a steady beat. However, explaining why this may go against most people’s inability to identify, understand and appreciate the innumerable fractional cadences of existence is something we’re not going to do in this context.

The other two tracks confirm the band’s overall tightness. “…but the clouds…” explores more radical dynamic changes, the mood systematically swinging between a measured atonality and riotous discharges. The explicitness of the textural and contrapuntal arrangement is maintained throughout the album; the final episode “Catastrophe” substantiates the theory while granting additional space for the players to showcase their impressive control. Ultimately, it is exactly this sober virtuosity – in conjunction with the individual originalities – that qualifies Barclay as a truly brilliant release, for which numerous listening hours will not be wasted. — Touching Extremes

Five Frozen Eggs

While looking for a point of light helping me through a better assimilation of Five Frozen Eggs’ refined complexity (and considering that I hadn’t listened to the original 1996 release) my eye fell on a quasi-nonchalant clue thrown by the nominal leader in the liners: all seven pieces were created following methods engendered by the mind of composer Stephen Dembski. Hopefully Fields will forgive the rapid investigations made to fill the umpteenth gap in my presumed knowledge, but now the conceptualization of the intentions lying behind this work appears clear: Dembski is a stalwart at the University of Wisconsin-Madison music faculty and — among diverse talents — a man who constantly looks for new ways (including the development of softwares) to generate broad-minded compositional structures. Fields, a regular collaborator, has always been concerned with tearing down the damp walls that delimit jazz and other varieties of artistic contemporariness. All of a sudden this reviewer realized that the suppositional reticence fought over the course of the first half-dozen of listens was instead merely screening a series of transparent interactions in a small universe where contrapuntal fungibility is the (flexible) criterion to follow. 

The rest came easy. Marilyn Crispell courteously reclaims a role of co-protagonist thanks to her chordal radiancy imbued of classily radical obstinance. Hans Sturm has the honor of opening the album with a splendid solo (entirely notated, as stressed by Fields), then keeps nourishing the lowermost of the audio spectrum with a combination of drama and logicality. Hamid Drake impressively dissects the motoric principles, exploring secret erogenous zones in the music’s animate organic qualities, stroking and tapping a fine-grained fresco that spreads across the program, remaining nearly silent when he feels like. There are several atmospheric and stylistic changes in here — from the contemplation of the title track and “Laogai” to the discordant march of “Little Soldiers For Science”, the lone place where the tolerant boss utilizes a modicum of distortion. The only traces of prototypical swing are found in “The Archaeopteryx and the Manatees”, quieted afterwards by a gorgeous lyrical interlude. Enough words, already: just enjoy the intelligence of a quartet for which the definition “acoustic facade” will never exist. — The Squid’s Ear

OZZO/Moersbow

The history behind the names of these two pieces for improvising chamber group is too difficult to synthesize here; check the liners or google around, also to learn about the various evolutions of the very orchestra’s appellative. What’s transparent is that the opening period is dedicated to Masami Akita (aka Merzbow), though Fields and his companions decided to approach the task with the sagacious expertise of a qualified ensemble paying homage to a time-honored composer rather than a Japanese noise merchant. The outcome is a superb paradigm of how to carry out a joint improvisation, the timbres so consistently interconnected in different permutations and dynamics that giving privileges to “lead” designs and distinct ideas becomes a pointless exercise. Our friendly advice is to relinquish a bit of focus and abandoning yourselves to a compelling stream of beautifully emitted music, nurturing one’s yearning for density in a collective statement without losing grip on the poetic aspects of the diverse instrumental idioms. 

The first, and a sizable chunk of the fourth movement of “OZZO” are plain wonders, replete with fine games of call and response, tactful probing of quietness and recurring parallelisms between assorted groups (sax, accordion and strings in particular evidence, with Thomas Lehn’s synthesizer adding pinches of analogue salt and the flutists inserting small enigmas throughout). The rest is more directly reminiscent of the conductor’s style both in terms of composition and as a guitarist: minuscule cells and dissonant quirks succeed and involve, the interest maintained by the extreme unsettledness generated by the palette’s variety. With musicians of the caliber of Frank Gratkowski, Carl Ludwig Hübsch, Melvyn Poore, Angelika Sheridan and Georg Wissel among the many — everybody deserving a “well done” — this live recording (Cologne’s Loft, January 2009) is as impeccable as a pre-planned studio session. — Touching Extremes

Afiadacampos

Both proven improvising guitarists and composers, two lucid cerebrums shining under the spotlight in the digipak’s inside photo, Sharp and Fields present the second recorded chapter of an ongoing partnership after Scharfefelder on Clean Feed. Armed with, respectively, a 1985 Thomas Reg’n and a 1998 Collings OM-2H — hold your drooling, jealous handlers of cheap Taiwanese imitations — the comrades cancel the obnoxious smell of scalar mustiness and rubber-nose electric tones completely, also sharing the compositional duties (five tracks are by E#, four by SF). 

Don't let the “compositional” term fool you, though. There’s a lot of improvisation in the 57 minutes of Afiadacampos — and, for the large part, of the finely structured kind. As the Chicagoan himself puts it, the pair is “interested in fuzzing up relationships between written and improvised sounds, rejecting the free-jazz model in which heads are matched with unrelated blowing”. Not a truer word: even when the instruments are tuned according to specific ratios (as in “Earth Ecology”) a logical sense underlies the interplay, clouds of hovering harmonics fighting first, revealing splendid rainbows later. This writer made the ultimate test, abandoning the listening room to hear how the adjacent partials were received at a distance; there was more harmony in what was caught by the ears at that moment than in an archetypal duet. That peculiar synchronization is the fruit of shrewdly elicited resonant interferences, to which a reactive listener should adapt instead of remaining mouth agape, waiting for the habitual dose of Superlocrian-spiced sticky molasses and chordal clichés. 

The acoustic timbres superb, the percussive aspect explored through tapping on necks and bodies, nicely coarse eBowed drones and dented strings (“Delta Delta”) and bionic rasgueados altering the values in the commonly intended aesthetic scale; each piece offers at least a couple of intriguing facets that Sharp and Fields investigate and exploit implacably. Their work convinces because the approach is thorough and resolute, not characterized by the grasshopper-like futility of sterile digital virtuosity. This might be one of the best guitar albums of 2010, worthy of being played loud and often. The house will be thankful. — The Squid’s Ear

what we talk

The theorbo is a lute with an incredibly long neck, Stephan Rath a master of this instrument specialized in early music repertoires. Scott Fields is, well, Scott Fields — in this occasion picking a gorgeously sounding nylon string guitar made by Robert Ruck. In 2007, MusikTriennale Köln run the series “Solos For Duos, Improvisation From Yesterday And Today” pairing musicians coming from opposite grounds on related instruments: exactly what these two artists needed for their encounter. 

This composition, like in other works by the Cologne-residing American guitarist, is based on spoken language: in this case, an imaginary conversation whose tones and accents were transformed into notational concepts enriched with improvised elements. The instrumental range is quite similar except for some deeply resounding basses, so the challenge while listening to What We Talk is essentially to determine who is playing what in a number of circumstances (expert ears will definitely tell the timbres apart, though). As the composer puts it, “roles can change instantly and seamlessly or can disappear entirely“. The reward for the effort is music that sounds clear as a sunny autumn morning, also thanks to the fantastic quality of the recording (hats off, Reinhard Kobialka). The parts are always absolutely intelligible, even when the contiguousness of the upper partials elicits a slight meshing of natural reverberations, which is a wonderful effect if you ask me. This stuff is going to gratify devotees of serious acoustic interplay, including icons from the times of yore such as Lenny Breau and Ralph Towner (provided that the above mentioned aficionados are prepared to step a little further in terms of contemporariness). 

The record is the demonstration of how ambitiousness and sharp-mindedness easily live together when the involved parties are both willing to listen to the counterpart and to give something earnest and, at the same time, logical to the audience. An ideal synthesis of technique, heart and brain, an utterly calming album with a uniquely refined edge. Oh, and the track called “The Very Moment I Saw Your Facebook Page I Just Knew We Are Soulmates Forever” confirms Fields as the George Foreman of titling. — Touching Extremes

Samuel

Look for the probable in Scott Fields’ work and prepare yourselves to bang your head hard, for a record like Samuel— the successor to Beckett on Clean Feed — is designed to pose questions, not answer them. The lone certainty derived from weeks of attentive scrutiny is the acceptance of my fraught ignorance, already creeping through my brain after having read Dan Warburton’s über-detailed liners, which explain this music — and perhaps Fields’s art at large — better than if you spoke with the man himself. Then came the actual sonic content, completely scored by attributing parts of the celebrated playwright’s texts to specific instruments (the ensemble comprises saxophonist Matthias Schubert, cellist Scott Roller and percussionist John Hollenbeck) and — in live performances — putting the sounds in conjunction with an exact lighting plan depending on the interplay’s ever-changing dynamics. 

Each of the three movements is terrific per se, due to a series of different aspects. “Not I” is so technically problematical and frenziedly arrhythmic in its development that the only way in which this writer managed to welcome and somehow digest that composite flux was a hint of silently convulsive tap dancing during the routine morning wait for the train to Rome. Unpredictable changes of accent and systematic disintegration of tonality connected to noises, gestures and faces, knottily interrelated outbursts in which the single parts occasionally seem slightly off beam, whereas everything obeys instead to an dispassionate yet enlivening logic. The leader’s elegantly malicious guitar is more in evidence in the subsequent “tunes”, “Ghost Trio” and “Eh Joe”, both moderately akin to jazz ballads in a way — the kind of “jazz” that is not taught at Berklee — but with such a number of false starts and hiccupping cadenzas that might cause a careless listener to feel seasick. The musicians splinter every available paragraph while sidestepping stylistic blatancy throughout, providing us with continuous demonstrations of their incredibly responsive commitment to the music. If Fields didn’t manage to “work on the nerves of the audience”, he surely succeeded in making this reviewer’s stab at depicting this document appear fairly laughable. One and a half upturned nose, all being well. — Touching Extremes

Fugu

These pieces were initially created with the intention of providing substance for a choreography by Li Chiao-Ping, whose dancers apparently couldn’t manage to follow the material’s erratic metres well enough to actually bring the proposed collaboration to a completion. Providentially the sounds remain, and they’re refined as much as necessary to stand alone for regular CD-fuelled consumption. The leader shows a superb command of nylon strings alternating disobedient clusters, asymmetrical rasgueados, swinging impertinence and poetic linearity depending on the circumstance. The lyrical counter altar is represented by cellist Matt Turner, who often steals the spotlight with the daydreaming rigour of his beautiful tone, finely complemented by vibraphonist Robert Stright’s shimmering unselfishness. An outstanding rhythm section — Geoff Brady on percussion, John Padden on double bass — provides a pulse that is full of zip but never petulant, contributing to the dismemberment of potential lassitude — a constant peril both in jazz and any kind of music conceived for dance. Fields confirms himself to be a name to keep an eye on all the time, especially when analyzing the way in which he frequently relinquishes a role of guitar-wielding protagonist while privileging a considerable transparency in the overall design, in turn cleverly enriched by a magnificent stability in the composed/improvised ratio. — Temporary Fault

drawings

There’s an enhanced CD among the recent releases by Ernesto Rodrigues’ Creative Sources called Drawings. The “enhancement” consists in a 55-minute MP4 video — Der Raum, by Arno Oehri — which shows the working processes between Scott Fields and German visual artist Thomas Hornung, who lives in Basel and spends about one hour every evening by making spur-of-the-moment drawings on A4 paper sheets, “typically in black but occasionally in colored chalk,” as per the guitarist’s words. The three collaborators first met in 2004 during a residency in the Swiss Alps, yet only after a while the American decided to dig out something from those sketches, converting them in a multi-page graphic score whose constitution is better explained by the composer himself in the liner notes. 

Fields, one of the most interesting phrase scramblers in contemporary jazz also in more “regular” outings (check his efforts on Clean Feed), asks the listeners to play the 98 audio tracks of the disc in shuffle mode — the same method applied to Hornung’s 171 pictures, previously selected, when he performs this work live. This modus operandi is not really crucial for the ultimate result, as the severely fragmentary conciseness of the solos causes the whole to sound exactly as a haphazard reproduction of the initial program even when the record is played straight; I seriously doubt that a remote chance of memorizing this album exists. What needs to be noted is how brilliantly this man manages to conjure up a growing quantity of uncommon timbres, chordal surges, skeletal counterpoints and unclassifiable pitches from his axe (manipulated conventionally or through various kinds of implementations), elevating the music to a degree of consequentiality on a par with its pictographic complement. — Temporary Fault

Scharfefelder

Listen to Scott Fields’ opinion: “(…) collaborations between bald guitarists are, by their nature, irresistibly charming (…)”. Not a truer word. And the hairless virtuosity we’re given handfuls of in “Scharfefelder” is enough to make me stop thinking about those hyperglycemic crises I experienced decades ago, when the depleted puppy who’s writing these words thought of “Friday Night in San Francisco” as a good starting place to take the instrument a little more seriously. As Goofy would have it, gawrsh. This acoustic duet, recorded at Sharp’s zOaR studio halfway through August 2007, shows that one can still play full chords and let them resonate without being ashamed; and if those shapes proliferate until becoming three or four hundreds — and even badly dissonant, for Christ’s sake — strange halos of peculiar harmonics might invade your terrain and persuade you that flamenco is born again, in a bionic variety (“Doubleviz”) excluding predetermined progressions. Need slanted lines? There are things here which could convince that Sharp and Fields’ fingers are somehow disjointed (“Freefall”); they catch the exact spot where resonant note and wood-ish thud meet, transforming their artistic personae in human bradawls smiling at the listener while punching holes in the residual convictions about that erstwhile tool for serenades and beach hooking. If Ralph Towner and John Abercrombie ever get to hear this, they might be willing to drown in the Sargasso Sea (just kidding, huh? I like some of that stuff, too). Shaven craniums reflecting the open-mouthed admiration of a fellow instrumentalist still willing to learn, impartiality be damned. Not an easy record, in any case: give it the fullest attention and don’t try to use it as background, either you’re a guitarist or not. — Touching Extremes

Bitter Love Songs

Everything in this CD — from the extremely sour liner notes, to the cruelly sneering track titles, to the leader’s “chip-on-a-shoulder” photo in the inlay card of my promo copy — reports of someone who is about to explode following a series of unlucky existential affairs. What better method to channel a potentially destructive fury into a handful of composition for guitar trio, and making them appear delivered from jazz stereotypes as well? That's what happens in Bitter Love Songs, the latest news coming from Scott Fields, whose clean-but-not-too-much tone characterizes a fine brand of dissonant, almost irritating at times, angular tunes where he’s sustained by Sebastian Gramss on double bass and João Lobo on drums. Hammering down phrases that appear as acrid as one’s mood after a rollicking from the office’s chief, Fields sounds similar to a man obsessed, totally unmindful of the establishment of a harmonic permanence. Ostinato-based figurations and chords full of minor seconds and augmented fifths are served like hamburgers at McDonald’s, one after another in deadpan pessimism, until every honeymoon picture on the wall gets ripped off the frame. The calmer settings are tackled with a sort of extreme aloofness, all the more enhanced by a rhythm section that doesn’t want to know what “regularity of pace” means. The guitarist declares to have kept the words of these bitter songs to himself, but there’s no question that his music stings worse than a lawyer’s bill. If John Scofield (note the curious assonance) decided to go harmolodic, maybe he could ask here for a few lessons. — Touching Extremes

Beckett

Beckett was recorded by a strong quartet consisting of Scott Fields (electric guitar), John Hollenbeck (percussion), Scott Roller (cello) and Matthias Schubert (tenor sax). The leader uses “post-free jazz” and “exploratory music” as definitions to help us poor reviewers writing about his vision, in this case setting Samuel Beckett’s short plays in terms of sonic rendition. The CD contains five tracks of what one could call “radical comprovisation,” a no-genre-all-genres series of structural possibilities for instruments to dialogue calmly or look for litigation. On a first approach we could think about entities like Curlew or Doctor Nerve; sometimes things get a little more complicated, though. Fields privileges a clean timbre on his axe, which is fundamental to maintain absolute clarity in his pretty entangled lines. Roller excavates imaginative figurations while remaining an ideal partner for dissonant unisons and ever-evolving, intertwining dissertations with Schubert’s non-conservative vocabulary. Hollenbeck is a bright-minded participant to a collectively sensitive interplay that never ceases to amaze, alternating basic patterns, uncontrollable rolls and sheer bedlam with self-controlled gestural balance and almost exhilarating musicianship. Everything in this disc tends to the instantaneous generation of attitude-permeated linear and textural counterpoint, whose results add spice and intelligence to a music which is only apparently difficult to penetrate, revealing instead many layers and secrets that will make adventurous listeners seriously happy. An advertisement for well-regulated iconoclastic playing, Beckett is one of those releases carrying the same weight of a powerful political statement. Listen and learn, then decide if you still need the velvet touch of deadly boring “jazz.” — Touching Extremes

Dénouement

Guitarist and composer Fields assembled a double trio to interpret the complex nuances of his half-written, half-improvised scores, giving the players circumstantial instructions in order for the compositions to sound like “puzzle pieces,” the six instrumentalists effectively intertwining rhythms and phraseologies yet resulting as a coherent, and ultimately delightful whole. No wonder that this stuff remained unpublished for years, while — to quote the author — “label owners fell in and out of love with the music”: this is fairly difficult material, which in its presumed calmness offers many and one points of observation for a series of crosscurrents mixing modern jazz and quasi-chamber apparitions, spiced by mostly clean-toned if pretty dissonant guitars (Fields and Jeff Parker — yes, Tortoise‘s), elegantly austere, beautifully sustaining basses (Jason Roebke, Hans Sturm), swinging-but-also-pensive drumming (Hamid Drake, Michael Zerang). Divided into seven tracks, whose names are a joy to read — take a look at the full title of “…His late wife…” to have an idea — the 72 minutes of Dénouement do not carry excessive weight at any moment, being instead gifted with considerable musicianship which transports the ensemble towards those heights where the rarefied air of clever interplay is present and easily breathable. Minimal in a way, communicative at various levels, these arrangements show Fields‘ lucid vision and ability to remain within the realms of circuitousness while avoiding those sterile dialectic supplements that uncork the bottles of vintage listlessness typical of dead-end jazz. This is a commendable album to savour delicately, repeatedly, consciously. — Touching Extremes

Frail Lumber

Scott Fields’ penchant for overlaying antithetical forms of instrumental action — typically involving cross-pollinations of improvised sections and more composed structures — finds one of its peak expressions in Frail Lumber, a project carried on with the aid of a string ensemble featuring cellists Daniel Levin and Scott Roller, violists Jessica Pavone and Vincent Royer, violinists Alex Lindner and Mary Oliver plus Elliott Sharp on guitar as well as the leader. The group’s partitioning in four twos of equal instruments is obvious, but this does not imply separation between the parts or disorganized and fragmented music. The five chapters — a total of about 67 minutes — appear in fact as mutating aggregates of harmonic question marks where, in turn, beauty of timbre, displacement of pulse and a general disinclination to follow pre-set strides acquire importance depending on the participants’ instinctive gestures and choices. 

Speaking of which, Fields did give instructions to the performers while setting their decisions and respective sensibilities within a looping fabric where — by wordlessly nodding at certain points — everyone can “invite” other members to join the circumstantial happenings with on-the-spot phrases and movements that help the agglomerative flow to remain complex in relative stability. The composer calls this procedure a “fancy cueing system”, but the lightness of the definition is inversely proportional to the gravity of the resulting music. We remain affected by the awesome electro/acoustic chromaticity, by alternating relative quietness and gradually mounting nervousness, and especially by how effectively a procedure that might potentially lead to untidy scenarios consolidates instead the musicians’ diverse voices and personalities into a cohesive unit. The wealth of involuntarily synchronic sketches even permits the camouflaging of melodic snippets amidst shifting accumulations of tension, as evidenced by the opening moments of “Paulownia” (all titles refer to types of woods and/or trees). 

Make no mistake: this is not an album for enticing an unsuspecting partner during a candlelight dinner. But it’s definitely one of the Cologne-based Chicagoan’s finest ever releases. — The Squid’s Ear

Ostryepolya

Director Pavel Borodin has been growingly active of late, leaving this miserable commentator huffing and puffing as far as reviewing his production is concerned. Let’s try and attempt a catchup run, starting from this excellent film revolving around the practical (and theoretical) aspects that delineate the time-honored partnership between innovative improvising composers and formidable guitarists Sharp and Fields. 

The “theoretical” bit mentioned in the preceding paragraph is located in the “special features” subdivision of the DVD, where the musicians explicate the duo’s rootage and the compositional sources for what they design and conjointly execute. Both gentlemen are inclined to shifting inside and out given structures, setting pitch fields to pick from, and searching for a temporal order coordinating written parts and improvised fragments. Establishing a natural physical flux for such complex ideation is described by Fields as perhaps one of the hardest tasks in the business of writing music outside the rigidness of expectation. I also like to recall a significant sentence by Sharp, according to which working within a chosen system necessarily requires a different perspective in the act of listening; that’s exactly how one should conform to the materials presented in the two concerts comprised by Ostryepolya. 

Indeed the fundamental importance of these live sets (taped in Cologne in 2009 and 2010) lies behind a simple, but often forgotten principle: a conscientious interaction is a must, Sharp and Fields teaching a lot in that sense as they regularly exchange looks during the performances, nodding in recognition and to change sections, responding to the subtlest nuances (and, why not, harsh scrapes and violent rasgueados) emitted by extremely sensitive steel-stringed instruments. We can observe the differences in the hands’ posture, the attention in selecting a befitting phrase, note or noise in a juncture, the detectable common ground — free jazz to quasi-stochastic semi-regulation, Bailey to avant-blues, and much more. The trained determination of the manual gesturing and the concentrated expression of each artist are captured by intelligent closeups; this, in union with the first-class timbral attributes of finely crafted guitars, contributes to an impression of proximity exalted by the marked left/right separation of the performers in the mix. 

Never anticipate ECM-like reverberations, in spite of a restricted number of occurrences characterized by sparser “gentler” notation and relative scarceness of events; this is, by and large, stuff for audiences able to face recurring trouble (a piece by Sharp is aptly titled “Convolution Now”). Continual clusters, pinched upper partials, spiky dynamics, non-singable lines, dissonant chords, metal tampering, eBow and — above all — a nonconforming attitude towards the act of expliciting unusual ideas via normal instrumentation. And yet, when Borodin’s camera catches glimpses of the scores, you can immediately see that it’s not “normal” methods we’re talking of. Discover the rest for yourselves, and learn something on acoustic problem-solving and acceptance of what is not “harmonic” in a tritely Western meaning. — Touching Extremes

Burning In Water, Drowning In Flames

You know how it goes. While doing something else, a sudden thought crosses the mind to completely detour your focus. As I was examining an atom or two of the huge body of promos amassed around the house and in the notebook, the realization of having not listened to Scott Fields for a long time occurred. A quick search caused a double surprise: not only the last record released by Fields at his own name dates from 2015, it’s also his first proper solo album. And it’s entirely acoustic.

The genesis of Burning In Water, Drowning In Flames is finely chronicled by the composer, so we are not dwelling on it – check for yourselves. The habit of structuring scores after pieces of illustrious writing has not been ditched by Fields, who utilized Charles Bukowski as compositional source for this occasion. Achieving a balance of intelligibility and actual consequence is difficult even for a single sentence, thus one imagines how hard a self-demanding musician tries to extend the effort to a full cycle.

The keyword here is “spacing”. Individual pitches, schismatic chords and unceremonious flurries are all informed by the quality that should be wished by every serious guitarist. That is to say, conveying a feel of accurate delineation within the silences, independently from the complexity of what’s being played. This particular ability warrants a listener’s semi-conscious acceptance of harmonic relationships whose decoding might otherwise be problematic.

This is especially true in the program’s second half: the “Drowning In Flames” suite is in fact built upon a quarter-tone tuning that makes a mockery of many so-called commonsensical approaches on the instrument (translation: you’ll never find Fields involved with scalar routines and ho-hum fingerings). In such a setting, the propagation of the upper partials complies with requirements too peculiar for the average ear. So it’s basically a case of learn to swim, or drown (pun intended).

Perhaps the reviewer has given excessive room to the guitar player. Still, remember that this is a set of compositions, and has to be evaluated accordingly. The gorgeously vibrating halos emanated by the protagonist’s steel-stringed flat-top would alone constitute a valid reason to deepen the study. And yet, the importance of this music cannot be reduced to a mere analysis of technical issues, or to “what-a-great-resonance” chit-chat.

Lesson learned, then. Never keep your eyes off Mr. Fields. — Touching Extremes

Michael Roberts

Mamet

Best Album of 2002. Playwrite David Mamet’s works inspire the music here — hence the presence of tunes called “American Buffalo” and “Oleanna.” But Fields’ precise motivation is less important than the work itself. With bassist Michael Formanek and drummer Michael Zerang, this gifted guitarist constructs open-ended, freeform soundscapes filled with noises that are alternatively weird, discomfiting, and stimulating. — Jazziz

Michael Rosenstein

This That

For guitarist Scott Fields, an ensemble is more about a strategy for organizing improvisations than it is about putting together specific long-term groups. Past ensembles have consisted of anywhere from three to a dozen players with a revolving cast. For this incarnation, Fields pairs up with Vancouver stalwarts, Peggy Lee and Dylan can der Schyff. These two have been working together in a variety of contexts for a decade now (in addition to being married) and have developed near-telepathic abilities. They are well versed in approaching improvisation with a total disregard for stylistic lines. Free improvisation nudges up against Jazz heads while being crossed with rock torrents; prickly abstraction and simple melodies intersect. They provide strong partners for Fields, who has developed a like-minded approach in creating compositional forms for spontaneous interaction. The session starts out with quiet, measured counterpoint as Lees dark arco spins lines against Fields’ slashing smears and van der Schyff’s pointillistic punctuations. But quickly, things build to a fierce energy Raucous guitar runs spill out like searing horn lines while cello and drums stir up churning waves that crash along with an infectious momentum. Then, suddenly, the storm breaks to an open free section with the three spinning arcing lines that careen off of each other. And that is just the first piece! 

But what could be sheer mayhem or noodling in lesser hands holds together. The three build dynamic improvisations with acutely attuned senses of structure. Fields’ compositional forms provide the framework for the pieces, but it is clear that Lee and van der Schyff are full coconspirators. Angular thematic threads appear and then get pulled, prodded, and toyed with, disappearing into collective flurries only to reemerge again in a slightly morphed guise. Rather than defy expected musical roles, the trio ignores them altogether. Lines are just as likely to be sparked from tuned drum lines as they are from the guitar; Lee may jump up to the upper ranges of the cello while Fields dives down to resounding bass notes only to flip moments later. By the time the three reach the final piece, which builds with a stately tension and then resolves with a achingly beautiful arco cello melody, a sense of completion is achieved. Those looking for a representative release to dive into Scott Fields’ music needn’t bother. Each release reveals a new wrinkle to his expansive musical view, and this, in no small part due to his ensemble members, is one of the strongest yet. — Cadence Magazine

Mamet

On the surface, this is probably the most conventional instrumentation that Fields has used for one of his ensembles. But like a director casting a play, he has carefully chosen his co-conspirators. Formanek is a fantastically inventive bass player. He is on equal footing throughout; flexibly adjusting his playing and interaction to the flow of the piece. At times he is the aggressive lead voice, at others a dynamic sparring partner for Fields. His resonating plucked lines and booming arco fill out what might otherwise be a spare setting. Zerang is a colorist, setting the timbres and textures for the dialog of bass and guitar. This in no way suggests that he is relegated to a supporting role. Instead, he fills out the ensemble with his limber, pointillistic percussion; moving from pinpoint attack to pummeling cascades to propel the improvisations. Fields has a quirky sound, shaping his lines with clean intonation and angular intervalic jumps, at times filled out with a subtle use of real-time sampling to layer multiple lines. The three players use the compositional framework as a motivic framework for elastic interaction full of finely detailed interplay. Quiet, intensely abstract lyricism can lead to thorny, clashing thunder. If one is familiar with the way that Mamet constructs his dialogs and uses tension and release in the development of his plays, it is possible to discern those influences. Though it provides an intriguing layer, it is hardly essential to hearing what is going on here. Instead, Fields has used the sources to create compositional frameworks for open-form improvisation. Even without the knowledge of the underlying basis for the pieces, this trio music is a compelling example of probing group interchange. — Cadence Magazine

Gigi Sabelli

Bitter Love Songs

“Sì, certo. Possiamo rimanere amici in ogni caso”; “Ti andavo bene finchè i tuoi amici non si sono impicciati”; “Il mio amore è amore, il tuo amore è odio”. 

Parte dai titoli, ma anche dalle impietose e stringatissime note di copertina la tremenda autoironia di questo disco, in cui Fields sembra voler riflettere con cadenze tragicomiche sull’amarezza e sul fatalismo degli incontri sbagliati della vita. Come quello con un musicista che “sembra apprezzare la tua musica ma poi, appena trova un ingaggio migliore, se ne va dal tuo gruppo”. 

Il fil rouge di una drammatica e nuda concretezza sembra proseguire con perfetta continuità in una musica suonata da una chitarra elettrica privata di ogni orpello effettistico, da un contrabbasso e da una batteria. 

Quindi un trio non certo insolito nel jazz moderno, ma abbastanza raro da incontrare nella discografia free. Un tratto originale accentuato da un’improvvisazione incasellata tra temi molto spigolosi ma rigorosi e da un’improvvisazione continua alle cui spalle lavora un bassista capace di porsi in linea quasi telepatica con gli altri due e la percussività del giovanissimo portoghese Lobo. 

Il primo è il quarantaduenne Gramss, anche lui come Fields vive a Colonia e ha collaborato tra gli altri con Fred Frith, Rudi Mahall e Tom Cora. Lobo si è già ascoltato in Italia con musicisti decisamente lontani da qui: Enrico Rava, Giovanni Guidi e Mauro Negri. In questo disco si rivela in grado di conferire proprietˆ espressiva anche quando si toccano vertici di radicalismo improvvisativo. 

Apparentemente è lui il regista di tempi spezzati e multiformi che sostengono una sorta di insistenza armonica in cui un’immensa gamma di soluzioni passa attraverso arpeggi chitarristici, linee atonali velocissime o un’informalità grattuggiata. 4 stelle — All About Jazz, Italy

Jim Santella

Beckett

Beckett features the Scott Fields Ensemble in a tribute to the work of playwright Samuel Beckett (1906-1989). Running helter-skelter and varied with much emotion, the quartet members interact as characters in a play, letting their conversations come and go without restraint. Tenor saxophone, cello, drums and percussion and the leader’s fiery guitar make each composition sparkle with animation. They prefer short, choppy statements that move back and forth from one artist to the next. Whereas most Free Jazz ensembles fit the pieces together in such a way that they’re able to deliver their music simultaneously, Like the script for a play, each artist here becomes a character in the composer’s arena. They juggle their musical lines with such seamless delight that it all seems quite natural. However, the music runs detached and choppy for the most part. While much of the program flits back and forth, there’s considerable space between the lines. Fields’ comfortable guitar remains capable of expressing a wide range of emotion, from quiet inhibition to rage. Cellist Scott Roller fulfills the role of melody-maker as well as providing the underlying rhythmic pulse. John Hollenbeck colors with swirling activity, while saxophonist Matthias Schubert contributes considerable thematic material. Beckett was a minimalist who allowed his work to grow increasingly cryptic. What a perfect match for Scott Fields, who points his latest improvised project in the same direction with much success. — Cadence Magazine

Alexander Schmitz

Barclay

Scott Fields, der amerikanische Wahl-Kölner, E-Gitarrist, interessanteste „Sprachmaler” unter den Granden in Free Jazz, Creative Music und Freier Improvisation und Stammgast auf diesen Seiten, legt nach „Beckett“ 2006 und „Samuel“ 2009 den Schlussteil seines Samuel Beckett-Triptychons vor, der wohl faszinierendsten in moderne Musik gebrachten Hommage an den irischen Theaterautor, Lyriker und Meister einer präzisen, lakonisch-minimalistischen Bühnensprache. Auch „Barclay” (nach dessen middle name) ist Quartett, wieder mit Scott Roller, clo, und Matthias Schubert, ts; für John Hollenbach ist jetzt auch Dominik Mahnig auf Fields’ „innovativem Weg zum word painting” und als Perkussionist für die Realisierung dieses Projekts naturgemäß unentbehrlich: Fields hat aus „Krapp's Last Tape” (1958, 28 min), dem BBC3-Fernseh- spiel „... But the Clouds ...” (1977, 16 min) und dem Einakter „Catastro- phe” (1982, 18 min) die rhythmischen Gehalte der Sprache des Autors zur Grundlage der Stücke gemacht, auf der das Quartett mal frei, mal nach Notat und allemal fes- selnd agiert. Das Kardinalthema Becketts bleibt die Vergänglichkeit. So hört der alte Krapp ein Tonband seines Lebens ab. Und das but the clouds des Titels entstammt dem melancholischen Yeats-Gedicht „The Tower”. In „Krapp“ durchmisst das Quartett sämtliche Aggregat- zustände der Seele. Was hier, strikt instrumental, abläuft, ist Kopfkino und Tonfilm, Bildermusik wie aus Joyces „Finnegans Wake”. Das Vier- Personen- (und -Bühnen-)Stück „Clouds” wird zur höchst faszinierend bespielten Arena für die Gruppe, ein Vexierspiel erlebter und nachgespielter „Katastrophe“ mit dem Sax als dem Regisseur, dem Cello als dessen Assistenten und der Gitarre als dem Bühnenarbeiter, denen allen gegen Schluss sogar der noch vom Quartett gespielte Zuschauerapplaus gilt... Fields’ Ensemble macht Abstraktes konkret, weil die Form diese Musik zu jeder Sekunde vor Halt-Losigkeit bewahrt, der Rhythmus der Sprache, die Rhythmen der Handlung. In dieser Würdigung zeigt Becketts Werk just die Gewissheit, die es selbst nie enthalten hatte. Das soll den vieren erst- mal einer nachmachen. — Jazz Podium

Minuet Minarets

Es gibt Neues von Scott Fields, dem WahlKölner aus Chicago, der 1995 und (dank der Reissue) nochmals 2010 mit seinem „Fugu“ — Ensemble so eindrucksvoll demonstriert hatte, wie schön improvisierte (Gitarren-)Musik sein kann, wenn sie ohne handwerkliche Brechstange gespielt wird. Und dann war es vom größeren Ensemble zum Duo für Scott nur noch ein kleiner, eigentlich logischer Schritt. Dialog, meint er, sei schließlich die ergiebigste Kommunikationsform. Nun also sein Duo mit dem Tenoristen Matthias Schubert, und wieder der Eindruck, dass es einem niemand leichter macht als Scott Fields und sein Partner, den Verhau an stilistischen Pseudo-Kennungen, Labels, Rubrizierungen, Kategorisierungen und Ein- oder Zuordnungen ganz schnell zu vergessen oder einfach für obsolet zu erklären. 

Was Scott an der Gitarre und sein musikalischer Gesprächs-Partner am Sax hier in ihren sieben Zwiegesprächen zustandebringen, ist nichts weniger als der wieder wunderbar gelungene Versuch, von semantisch greifbaren Tete-a-tetes alles an semantisch Greifbarem zu subtrahieren. Übrig bleiben der dialogische Gestus und ein außerordentlich üppiger Strauß an Emotionen. Im letzten Stück, „GidgetWidget Wacker“ wird sogar noch ein Stück weiter reduziert und sich konzentriert auf das nur noch wirklich Unentbehrliche: das Geräusch jenseits aller herkömmlicher Stimmlichkeit. Das ist musikalisch ob seiner Schönheit mal bewegend, mal spaßig, mal verblüffend. Und es ist einfach beeindruckend, was der Wille zum authentischen Zwiegespräch jenseits oder diesseits der Sprache der Wörter hervorzubringen vermag. Und wie sich Archetypisches, Vorzeitliches ins Heute einpasst, als wäre es schon immer mit dabei gewesen. Und das war’s ja auch. — Jazz Podium

Fugu

Er war etwas über 20, als er sich erst mal für 15 Jahre aus dem Musikgeschäft zurückzog. Dann war er wieder da, 1993/94, und nahm 1995 „Fugu“ auf, auf seinem eigenen, nur kurze Zeit aktiven Avantgarde-label Geode. Er hat klassische und Jazzgitarre gespielt, und dass „Fugu“ nun wieder veröffentlicht wurde, ist ein Segen. Scott Fields spielt hier ausschließlich Nylonstring, und mit im Team sind der Cellist Matt Turner, Perkussionist Geoff Brady, John Padden am großen Bass und Robert Stright am Vibraphon. Und was dieses Quintett aufführt, lässt hellauf jauchzen. Dies ist kammermusikalisch improvisierte Musik vom Allerfeinsten, subtil, eher sanft, eher pastell als grell, eher wohltemperiert als aggressiv, nicht anarchisch, nicht provo, sondern von überraschender Eingängigkeit, ohne je ins Gefällige abzutauchen. Die Themen notierte Scott; die werden gespielt, und dann geht es, vier wiinderbar lange Stücke lang, immer tiefer hinein ins freie Spiel der Kräfte. Ursprünglich waren einige dieser Stücke für einen chinesischen Tänzer und Choreographen geschrieben worden; aufgeführt wurden sie nie, schon gar nicht „The plagiarist“, das einzige Stück in 4/4. Das sollte laut Partitur 300 Schläge p/m schnell gespielt werden, ein Affenzahn, den nicht mal ein chinesischer Tänzer bewältigen kann. Also spielt das Ensemble es etwas langsamer, d.h. immer noch sehr schnell. Der „Plagiarist“ ist das Herz des Albums, und was in ihm einzeln und kollektiv und in den anderen Stücken abläuft, ist einfach eine Offenbarung, die den Zugang zum Thema improvisierter Musik außerordentlich erleichtern kann. Bevorzugt werden weite Klangareale, die sich indes sehr wohl verdichten können zu hochdramatischen Cluster-Happenings. Aber diese Musik — „Poem for Joseph“, „The Big Mango“, „A carrot is a carrot“ wie das abschließende Titelstück — bleibt immer voller szenischer Überschaubarkeit und bei aller improvisatorischen Freizügigkeit immer zusammen gehalten von einer Disziplin, die man eher von modern klassisch spielenden Ensembles kennt. Man fühlt sich ein wenig erinnert an die 2009er Kooperative „Kiss the guitar player“ des holländischen Klimt!-Streichquartetts mit einigen Gitarristen. Aber das spielte sich noch diesseits der ganz, ganz großen Freiheit ab. 

Hier schlägt schon mal die höchst reizvolle Besetzung mit Kontrabass, Cello und Vibes Brücken zum Jazz. „Fugu“, das Stück, steht dafür beispielhaft. Und macht von A bis Z klar, dass das, was hier geschieht, wirklich nichts zu tun hat mit Barock-JazzKlischees, Third Stream ˆ la MJQ oder Brubeckschen Experimenten mit verrückten Metren und Riesenorchestern. Man kann es ganz einfach sagen: Reizvoller, schöner, verzaubernder wurde man noch nie mitgenommen auf die Mitte der Brücke, die moderne Klassik und zeitgenössischen Jazz miteinander verbindet. Und leichter ist es noch nie gefallen, die Suche nach einem passenden Gattungsbegriff ganz einfach zu vergessen. — Jazz Podium

OZZO/Moersbow and Frail Lumber

Gleich zwei Alben von dem faszinierendsten Meisterartist auf dem Hochseil zwischen zwischen Free Jazz und Neuer (Kammer-)Musik, dem in Köln lebenden Chicagoer Scott Fields. Für das erste Album, 2009 live im Kölner Loft aufgezeichnet, hat er die Gitarre zuhause gelassen. Als Komponist dirigiert er ein 24-Köpfe-Ensemble mit vielen Blech-, wenigen Holzbläsern, mit Violine, Viola, Bass, Akkordeon und drei Herren an Analog- und Digitalcomputern, von denen man kaum was merkt, eine Hommage an den japanischen Elektronik-Doyen Merzbow als Meister des Leisen und ein vierteiliges Werk. Wer über die Titel der Werke und den Orchesternamen Verwirrung verspürt, wird in Scotts Liner Notes stimmungsfördernd aufgeklärt. „Moersbow“ macht sich die Tugenden des Japaners zueigen, was Scott nie schwer fällt, wie er seit. „Fugu“ (2010) oder den „Minaret Minuets“ mit dem Tenoristen Matthias Schubert beweist. Und so wird „Moersbow“ im Wesentlichen auch zum wunderbaren abstrakten Klanggemälde mit Haarlinien, winzigen Farbfeldern und subtilen Schattierungen. Die vier „OZZO“ -Sätze sind etwas lebhafter, polyrhythmischer mit Pizzicati, viel Flageolett und einer Menge oft einfach spannendem Interplay. OZZO 2 und 3 zeugen von der instrumentalen Kunst des kreativen Durcheinanderbrabbelns ohne je zu brüllen; OZZO 4 handelt von der Kunst des freien Diskurses oder Wie man Sinnlosigkeit zu sinnhaftigkeit machen kann, ohne Freiheiten einzuschränken. 

„Frail Lumber“ stellt das neueste Scott Fields Ensemble vor, nun mit gleich zwei E-Gitarren (die andere spielt Elliott Sharp), Daniel Levin und Scott Roller, cello, Axel Lindner und Mary Oliver, v, und Jessica Pavone und Vincent Royer, viola, und zwar in fünf Stücken, von denen vier zwischen 15 und 19 Minuten lang bzw. lang ausfallen. „Ziricote“ dürfte ähnlich entstanden sein wie die Stücke damals auf „Fugu“, mit notierten Vorgaben, über die zunehmend freier improvisiert wird. Auch hier wieder fasziniert, dass man bei Fields immer den Eindruck hat, es mit sehr wohl konstruierten „Formen“ des Abstrahierens zu tun hat. Das wird im zentralen Werk „Paulownia“ besonders gut erkennbar, in dem eine Gitarre und dann ein gezupftes Cello zeitweilig für laufbassähnliche Linien sorgen, die in ihrer rhythmischen Beständigkeit den Zusammenhalt des Ensembles sichern. Das ist keine Konzession, sondern das entspricht ziemlich genau dem Ort, an dem Scott Fields sich offenkundig am wohlsten fühlt und auch, als Komponist wie als Musiker, am besten ist: wenn er den Kreis schließt, in dem freier Jazz und moderne Kammermusik eins werden. Er ist halt der mild maniac unserer Tage. Immer Poet, nie Anarchist. — Jazz Podium

everything is in the instructions

Als in diversen Rezensionen bekennender Bewunderer des Komponisten, Gitarristen und Wahl-Kölners aus Chicago behauptet yours truly: Das musste ja so kommen. Und dass es so gekommen ist, ist ein Segen: Scott

Fields’ hinreißend schönes musikalisches Tete-a-tete mit dem in New York lebenden Komponisten, Flötisten und Shakuhachi-Spieler Jeffrey Lependorf. Mit ihren Zen-Seelen sind die zwei wie füreinander geschaffen. Seit 1964, als Tony Scott seine „Zen Meditation“ -LP vorlegte und die Jazzwelt zu völlig neuer Besinnung brachte, mag man Hosan Yamamotos Shakuhachi, die klassische japanische Bambusflöte, assoziiert haben. Fortan wird man bei „Shakuhachi“ auch (oder nur noch) an Jeffrey Lependorf denken, notabene den, der mit Scott Fields im Duo eine unendlich schöne Platte gemacht hat, eben diese, deren Titel an eine Episode aus Lependorfs Lehrjahren bei John Cage anspielt. 

Damals also Koto, heute Gitarre. Ob er wie 2010 im Duo mit dem Tenoristen Matthias Schubert die „Minaret Minuets“ aufnahm oder ein Jahr später das 24-köpfige Multiple Joyce Orchestra dirigierte — es macht keinen Unterschied: Scott Fields ist unter den wenigen Gitarristen/Komponisten von Rang der poetischste, reinste, sensibelste Schöpfer musikalisch feinster Pinselstriche, dessen Musik immer erinnert an die makellose, sinnstiftende Schönheit chinesischer Ideogramme. Seine musikalische Poetik ist der des sinojapanischen Kulturraums so nah, dass das Get-Together mit Lependorf einfach stattfinden musste. Scott ist ein Gary Snyder der Musik. 

Überraschend hier ist. dass es neben den fünf Fields- und zwei Lependorf-Stücken ein „Naima“ gibt, das mehr noch als die eigenen Stücke wie „Objects in relation to other objects“ oder, Zentrum des Albums, „The politics of solitude“ verdeutlicht, wie Scott musikästhetisch „tickt“. Coltrane wird nicht verbogen, nicht verhitscht. nicht verbalhornt; er wird gewissermaßen werktreu übertragen, auf die sanfte, behutsame, kluge, die schönste Seite der zeitgenössischen Avantgarde. Für sie steht Scott Fields. Und Jeffrey Lependorf. Garanten für ein Album, das man sein Leben lang nicht mehr vergisst. — Jazz Podium

Kintsugi

„Feartet”? Viertett? Quartett! Scott Fields, der in Köln lebende Meisterkomponist und Gitarrist im kunterbunten Nowhere Land zwischen freier und kollektiver Improvisation und zeitgenössischer, ergo Neuer Kammermusik, spielt mit Titeln seiner, hm, was nun, Kompositionen wie mit Tönen und Klängen. Aber keine Sorge, zum Fürchten gibt’s vom Feartett gar nichts, jedenfalls wenn man den Starttitle „Sexual Perversity in Chicago” (sic!) „dutch” hat, das hochdramatische Entree zu „Kintsugi”. 1995/2010 Scotts „Fugu”. 2011 die „Minaret Minuets” mit Matthias Schubert und 2012 das Großoeuvre von „Moersbow” und „OZZO”, alle hier besprochen, nein: bejubelt, und nun drei Streicher und ein Zupfer, Elisabeth Fügemann, Cello, Axel Lindner, Violine und Vincent Royer, Viola, alles hochdekorierte Musici, immun gegen alles Blendwerk. Wie Scott. Dessen Musikauffassung betört ungebrochen. Er ist ein Faszinosum, und diese Musik ist es auch. „A future congressman” ist wesentlich freundlicher als der Sumpf in der Windy City. Kaum noch Tutti-Kakophonie, viel spontan Dialogisches, subtil alles, ein Vergnügen in Pastellfarben mit ein paar kräftigeren Tupfern. „The tragedy of Spade Cooley” assoziiert frei über Leben und Tod des einstigen Musikstars (mit Stern in Hollywoods Walk of Fame) und eifersuchtsgeschüttelten Mörders seiner Frau, die was mit Roy Rogers gehabt soll, als veritables Dramolett, als spannende Kurz-Bio und damit partout nix für Improvisations-Novizen, die auch in „That’s my puggle” stranden würden. Weil: Wer macht schon Neue Musik über einen Hund?? — Tja, und zum Schluss das Opus Magnum, 20 Minuten „Snail Fight”. Schneckenflug, Schneckenflucht — in jedem Fall sowas wie ein innerer Widerspruch, der qua Improvisation aufgelöst wird. Das ist Scott Fields par excellence, wirklich ein Jackson Pollock des kammermusikalischen Action Paintings. Ein Meister des feinen Strichs, ein König. Und sein Feartet ist ein ganzes Königreich. — Jazz Podium

Tom Sekowski

We Were The Phliks

Guitarist Scott Fields points out in the liner notes to his latest record We Were The Philks: “It is my habit to set myself some rules for each project I compose. Otherwise the world is just too big for me. For my contributions to The Phliks book I made myself a rule that every tune would include traditional notation, graphical notation, and improvisation. In the Phliks pieces I would blur the distinction between notated and improvised material.” When one listens to the 70-minute work, a distinct sense of confusion comes about. What is composed and what is improvised? Then again, when the music is this solid, does it really matter? Fields has assembled a stellar cast for the project. His ensemble includes Thomas Lehn on analogue synth, Matthias Schubert on tenor sax and Xu Fengxia on guzheng. Fields’ music sparkles with an unspoken intensity. While his guitar hums with electric sparkles, put together with Xu Fengxia’s distinct hollow guzheng, it is a killer. Add to this Schubert’s intensely satisfying tenor gale blows and Lehn’s other-worldly synth slabs and you’ve got yourself a tight band kicking up a storm. As the sounds alternate between more serene passages and those that simply rock, the music moves in a natural, nearly cyclical way. If there is one factor that sticks out of the mix, it’s got to be Thomas Lehn and his squeaky synth. In applying simple pressure tactics, he often times convinces the other players to follow along into alien territories he favours to tread. Wildly satisfying record from beginning to end. — Gaz-Eta

Dénouement

Working in a different ensemble altogether, Fields’ playing turns into a different animal altogether. Double trio that he put together sometime around mid 90’s, provides the leader ample opportunity to stretch out as a composer and improviser. Competing with him on guitar is Jeff Parker, while the rhythm section is made up of Jason Roebke and Hans Sturm on bass and Michael Zerang and Hamid Drake on percussion. Best thing is each player has its own channel to play into, thus giving perfect chance to hear point-counterpoint between what the other partner is doing at the same time. Fields here sounds more relaxed. In fact, his playing is akin to his better Music & Arts records from mid 90s. A little on the angular side, but still romping up a healthy dose of all over the map picking. At times bluesy, while other times completely free, it’s difficult to imagine all of these pieces were actually composed. Much of the guitarist’s work sounds somewhat similar to what James Blood Ulmer used to do in the mid 70s. Roebke and Sturm complement each other quite well, shifting between pure arco and some nasty finger picking action, while both percussionists keep a firm beat on the proceedings. Each takes a turn at soloing, while Drake is master of keeping his distinct personality on the record. Originally released in limited quantities on Fields’ own Geode imprint, the record is finally seeing a much deserved reissue. Glowing with a warm heart and ideas to spare, it’s safe to put Dénouement as re-issue of the year so far. — Gaz-Eta

Ken Shimamoto

Fugu

Guitarist Scott Fields is a Chicagoan by way of Madison, Wisconsin, who now resides in Cologne, Germany. He had a “countercultural” adolescence and started out playing blues in bars while still underage before falling under the spell of the Windy City’s Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians. (“A Poem for Joseph,” which opens his album Fugu, is dedicated to Art Ensemble of Chicago saxophonist Joseph Jarman, with whom Fields has performed.) He put down his guitar when he was 21 and picked it up again 15 years later, earning a journalism degree in the meantime, although you wouldn’t know it from his infuriatingly convoluted liner notes. Fugu is a reissue of a 1995 date first released on his own short-lived Geode label. The pieces were written to accompany dancers but their tricky, irregular meters proved unsuitable for that purpose. The music’s subtly stunning on its own terms, though, performed by an unit of mainly classical players whose fiery interpretations of Fields’ compositions belie their academic backgrounds. Cellist Matt Turner and vibist Robert Stright particularly shine. — Stash Dauber

Five Frozen Eggs

5 Frozen Eggs is a reissue of a 1996 recording by guitarist Scott Fields that was originally released on the Music and Arts label. On it, he’s joined by longtime Anthony Braxton pianist Marilyn Crispell, his fellow Chicagoan Hamid Drake on drums, and bassist Hans Sturm. Fields’ compositions are introspective and impressionistic, with episodes that sound improvised but are in fact through-composed. Guitar-wise, he usually occupies some of the same sonic space as John McLaughlin did circa Extrapolation (before discovering Sri Chinmoy and distortion), his tone astringent, his ideas abundant. On “Little Soldiers for Science,” Fields dirties the sound up a bit, his lines juxtaposing crazy intervallic leaps and glisses with hammers and clusters of notes. The other musicians swirl around him like a sorcerer’s spell. — Stash Dauber

Bill Shoemaker

Seven Deserts

Now approaching 70, Chris Brown and Scott Fields have done well in getting their music out during middle age, a phase of life where composers often fade into academia or the wilderness. (Some would say they are one in the same; at least, the former has healthcare benefits.) Subsequently, new recordings like Some Center and Seven Deserts take on additional weight. Both recordings extend established trajectories and add new elements to their respective vocabularies. Brown and Fields also continue to surround themselves with responsive collaborators.

Ordinarily, the merits of these recordings would prompt an earnest invocation of the well-worn bromide that they reward committed listening. Given the current situation, such commitment is a heavier lift for those who reflexively and understandably seek relief or escape in music. The listener is faced with a choice analogous to defaulting to comfort food or maintaining a disciplined diet. Some Center and Seven Deserts are supportive of the latter.

Respectively, Brown and Fields make knotty propositions like microtonality and modular structure easily digestible. There is an essence of locale at play with both composers – the Bay Area, where Brown has worked for decades, and Chicago, where Fields came of musical age. Brown does not simply employ Harry Partch’s 43-tone scale; like the iconic Californian, Brown brings a rarely heard brightness and spaciousness to microtonality, albeit one without hermetic ritual context. There is a passing resemblance to Anthony Braxton’s orchestra music of the 1980s in Fields’ negotiations between spontaneity and notated modules, but how the guitarist’s music breathes suggests more intensive rehearsal time than Braxton enjoyed back in the day.

Brown and Fields benefit from well-qualified collaborators. Brown is wise to stick with a trio for the Chromelodia Project, given how microtones are frequently snuffed by larger groups. Kyle Bruckmann’s piquant oboe timbres offset Theresa Wong’s burnished cello and the ring and jangle of Brown’s retuned MIDI keyboard. Wong is frequently captivating, playing detailed cello parts while fluidly singing the Emily Dickinson poems employed for the five-part title piece and the Jackson Mac Low texts used for the 11-section First Light. Brown’s software allows for two contiguous 43-tone scales to be heard simultaneously, giving the music iridescent colors and orchestral mass. The trio generates sufficient space-filling material without obscuring that these pieces are songs, a difficult tightrope walk.

Fields benefits from the familiarity of frequent collaborators like violinist Axel Lindner and saxophonist Matthias Schubert, the intuition of improvisers like saxophonist Ingrid Laubrock and guitarist David Stackenäs, and the adaptability of contemporary music luminaries like flutist Helen Bledsoe. The composer also has a great asset in Stephen Dembski, who conducted Fields’ album-length 48 Motives and 96 Gestures. Field and his Ensemble maintain a robust, polished performance throughout this live recording, no small feat given the complexities of the hour-plus Seven Deserts. — Point of Departure

Samuel

Scott Fields’ music prompts questions, usually quickly: Where’s the line between the bold conceptions and the meticulous execution? Between the composer and the improviser? Between the jazz and what’s beyond category? Much to the guitarist’s credit, the answers are almost always elusive, as is the case with Samuel, Fields’ second collection of compositions drawn from the texts of Samuel Beckett. Given that, as measured in discographical time, the album comes on the heels of Beckett — the 2006 Clean Feed collection also featuring Fields’ quartet with tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert, cellist Scott Roller and percussionist John Hollenbeck — spinning this more innocuously titled album without making the connection is not surprising. The music is sufficiently compelling to initially keep the booklet with Dan Warburton’s informative notes off to the side. The quartet has an incisive bead on the material; their ensembles are bristling; and their ability to sustain the finely calibrated development of the materials in three contrasting pieces of 20 to 25 minutes in duration reflects an exemplary, collectively honed discipline. Sure, knowing Fields painstakingly ascribed pitch and duration values to Beckett’s texts facilitates a fuller reception of the work; yet, it is not required to dig the jagged and jangling materials. It certainly explains the ensemble’s aversion to lustrous decay; in conveying the bluntness of expression fundamental to Beckett’s texts, their dampened attack and clipped phrases establishes a temperamental continuity that is as essential to the music as adherence to the scores and the parameters for improvisation. This tints materials that would otherwise be more easily compared to the graying generation of Midwestern structuralist composers (although Fields has lived in Cologne since 2003, Chicago is still discernable in his music). Still, the ensemble’s fastidiousness in articulating Fields’ compositions does not diminish the individualism of the players; on the contrary, these are among the more engaging performances to date by Fields himself and by Schubert and Hollenbeck, the more widely documented of his cohorts (the guitarist-like dexterity of Roller’s pizzicato always prompts a desire to hear more). This is another significant recording by Fields. — Point of Departure

Elliott Simon

Beckett

Both of these releases have prose as their muse and include drummer John Hollenbeck as a sideman. This is not surprising as Hollenbeck is a meticulous musician who has a proclivity for precision and a propensity for delicate phrasing. Electric guitarist Scott Fields fronts a quartet that employs free improvisation to depict more the form and feel than the storyline of five plays by Samuel Beckett while German bassist Henning Sieverts and his quintet cleverly construct a program of palindromic playfulness with 14 cuts based upon both literary and musical symmetry. 

Beckett is best known as a minimalist who highlighted the conundrum of humanity’s despair in conjunction with the will to go on; Fields however has given him a surprisingly upbeat interpretation. Cellist Scott Roller and saxophonist Matthias Schubert are the two additional performers who round out this interesting quartet and they fit very well into what alternates between engaging dialogue and freeform soliloquy. Hollenbeck propels more with staccato jabs than by laying down a discernible rhythm track to set the overall prosody, setting the stage for creative interpretations. “Breath” maintains the original brevity of the stage-work but restages birth-cry to whimper while riffing off of the “birth-life-death” theme. The extended compositions pick up on bits and pieces of the originals: a pause, a single structure, the gestalt to develop a lively musical discussion of the dramatic material. — All About Jazz

Pedro Sousa

Minaret Minuets

Como explica Scott Fields nas “liner notes” desta gravação com Matthias Schubert, tocar em duo é uma interessante interacção na medida em que, na ausência de elementos extra que possam interferir com a linguagem estabelecida, os diálogos tornam-se extremamente claros e direccionados. O silêncio optado por um dos músicos poderá dar uma nova luz ou criar uma tensão não antes percepcionada ao que o outro poderá estar a tocar. Deste mesmo modo, quando os dois tocam em simultâneo, criam-se explorações timbrais ou dinâmicas em que um instrumentista parece querer sobrepor-se ao outro e isso permite a geração de novos ângulos para levar a música em novas direcções. 

Fields e Schubert passam o álbum a criar e a destruir dinâmicas e situações, nunca permitindo que a música ganhe uma forma totalmente definida. O que se impõe é mesmo o ser híbrido constituído pela junção da guitarra e do saxofone — por exemplo, Matthias Schubert tem uma articulação muito baseada no staccato, mimetizando várias vezes as sonoridades guitarrísticas. 

Acontece, porém, que, quando a dupla entra num registo mais modal, as angularidades perdem-se em favor de uma linha mais contínua de exploração lírica. Além disso, os grunhidos e os registos mais abstractos ou minimais de Schubert nem sempre criam mais do que um vago interesse. Uma obra cerebral para se escutar com atenção. — Jazz.pt

Daniel Spicer

Fugu

Chicago guitarist Scott Fields originally wrote this music to accompany a dance piece and, though it was recorded in 1995, there’s a definite mid-20th century feel to it, redolent of interpretive dance and abstract expressionism. That’s got a lot to do with Robert Stright’s vibraphone ü the sound of a wittily raised eyebrow ü which can’t help echoing Bobby Hutcherson’s twitchy mallet work on Eric Dolphy’s Out To Lunch from 1964. The Dolphy comparison also extends to Fields’s spry storytelling, with episodic compositions such as “A Carrot Is A Carrot” unfolding like tartly amusing character studies. There is seriousness here, too, and Matt Turner’s cello ü played largely straight and sonorous ü lends the pieces a plaintive gravity. When his solos fly off into wilder, free regions, recalling Joel Freedman’s mid-1960s work with Albert Ayler, it’s like a tuxedo being ripped open, Hulk-style, from within. — The Wire

everything is in the instructions

Lependorf is a composer of chamber music and opera intent on breathing new life into the Japanese shakuhachi. In these fragile duets with guitarist Scott Fields, you can hear him seeking to transcend the limits of the primitive instrument in a similar fashion to Yusef Lateef’s experiments with the Chinese globular flute The shakuhachi has a thin, haunting timbre — like breath made barely manifest — which Lependorf bends and manipulates with concentrated and deeply focused overblowing. But, for all his efforts (and it really does sound like hard work), he still delivers a largely one-dimensional song. Playing the more versatile acoustic guitar, Fields forays into delicate classical flourishes, deftly placed, tentative harmonics and hits of flattened minors around which Lependorf floats like a lost and disembodied soul. — The Wire

Tina Karolina Stauner

Drawings

Der Chicagoer Gitarrist Scott Fields, in Köln lebend und mit diversen musikalischen Formationen wie z.B. dem James Choice Orchestra im experimentellen Improvisationsbereich arbeitend, hat mit Drawings eine Solo-CD veröffentlicht. Er spielte im Loft in Köln Miniaturen mit einer Gibson-E-Gitarre ein. Die 99 Kompositionen, keine länger als eine Minute, wirken wie Improvisationen, in denen Free-Jazz-Einsprengsel aufleben, einsame, schwermütige Bluesriffs angeschlagen werden, für Momente Heavy-Metal-Gitarrenattacken losbrechen, sich atmosphärisch-dröhnende Soundflächen einstellen, Garagenrocksound-Versatzsücke sich Raum verschaffen, Geräusch- und Tonexperimente eingebaut sind. In den kurzen Stücke nimmt sich Fields die Freiheit von Extemen, sich einerseits ruhig in eine sanfte Melodie einzufühlen und andererseits einem fahrig-heftig-harten Gestus von Rhythmus nachgehend. Wobei eine zutiefst lebendige, in sich stimmige Dynamik entsteht. 

Auf dem Cover von Drawings sind die wei§en Linien einer Grafik auf schwarzem Grund abgebildet. Die kurzen Tracks der CD haben auch den Charakter von freier, ungegenständlicher Zeichnung. An abstrakten Expressionismus erinnernd. Und im speziellen geht es um den in Basel lebenden deutschen Künstler Thomas Hornung, der Inspiration für die Kompositionen war. Er verbringt so manchen Abend in seinem kleinen Wohnatelier am Zeichentisch. Minutenzeichnungen herstellend mit Kreiden auf schwarzem DIN-A4-Papier. Dabei Wein trinkend, Musik hörend. Cellostücke von Dvorak etwa. Blätter von Hornung waren Vorlagen für Scott Fields Partitur. — Textem

Scharfefelder

“Scharfefelder”: Ausschließlich zwei akustische Gitarren: left channel Elliott Sharp, right channel Scott Fields. Und freie Improvisation. Das Faszinierende der Aufnahmen: Sie führen in ihrem unruhig Experimentellen zu so konzentriert klarem spirituellen Raum, wie man es eigentlich von reiner Folkmusik gewohnt ist, die schon Musikgeschichte ist. Es entsteht ein Gefühl von Essenzialität. Das sich auf das ganze mögliche Spektrum von Free Jazz, Improvisation, Blues und Folk bezieht, mit dem souverän gespielt wird, um zu Destilliertem zu gelangen. Zu einer Art Purismus von Traditionellem und Avantgardistischem. 

Man könnte zwar von der Fingerfertigkeit der beiden Gitarristen mit analysierenden Worten sprechen. Unvermutete Breaks, sperrige Akkorde, verquere Melodieläufe, nervölse Tonfolgen, extremen Wechsel von Sanftheit und Härte benennen. Doch mit Eloquenz könnte man vor allem der Grundstimmung, die sich beim Hören einstellt, nicht leicht nahekommen. Vielmehr passen dazu innere, landschaftsartige Bilder, sich synästhesieartig einstellend. Jamais-vu- und Déjà-vu-Fragmente ineinander geblendet. 

“… Improvised duos are like a good conversation. Double guitars are a special case: reflections, counterpoints, figure and ground (…”, kommentiert Elliott Sharp in den Liner Notes. Scott Fields hingegen fügt hinzu: “…Although this material is flexible, it can be misunderstood …” Eher umgekehrt wirkt das bei den Songtiteln: Sharp benennt mit großem Assoziationsspielraum: “Branedrane” etwa lässt an D-Branen denken, die man sich als dynamische Objekte in einer höherdimensionalen Raumzeit vorstellt. Die unendlich ausgedehnt sein, aber auch ein endliches und sogar verschwindendes Volumen haben können. Das reißt auch gedanklich Raum auf. Wie auch einer der weiteren Sharp-Titel: “Freefall”. Fields Songnames hingegen klingen einfach verspielt und greifbar: “Between Octopus And Squid”, “Fresh Red Flea” oder “Big, Brutal, Cold Raindrops”. 

Die beiden Akteure sind sonst auch in diversen Band-Projekten zu finden: Sharp, der Multi-Instrumentalist, der als Komponist auch für Ensembles arbeitet, in Downtown New York City. Und Fields, der Chicagoer, in Köln lebend, in diverse musikalische Gruppierungen involviert. — Textem

Pachi Tapiz

Bitter Love Songs

El amor ha sido desde siempre una fuente de inspiración para todas las artes, incluida la música. Por su parte, la ruptura del amor ha servido también como fuente de inspiración artística, aunque no es demasiado habitual que sea el protagonista íntegro de una grabación. Esto es lo que sucede con Bitter Love Songs del guitarrista Scott Fields. Un disco que contiene seis composiciones amargas, desapacibles, con estructuras broncas, retorcidas y desasosegantes, que logran transmitir ese abanico de sensaciones asociadas tanto a la ruptura amorosa como a la desolación, soledad y rencor posteriores.

La ausencia de sus correspondientes letras es suplida magníficamente por las texturas de la guitarra de Fields, especialmente en los once minutos de “Yea, sure, we can still be friends, whatever,” que el guitarrista convierte en una suerte de fuerte discusión de antiguos enamorados. Por su parte “You used to say I love you but so what now” se transforma es un tema seco y nervioso, al igual que le sucede a “My love is love, your love is hate,” mientras que “I was enough for you until your friends butted in” es una pieza desolada y llena de espacios, con un leve deje country.

Obviamente, el proyecto no llegaría a ninguna parte sin la maestría de Fields y de sus acompañantes, el contrabajita Sebastian Gramss y el batería João Lobo. Ambos se encargan de tejer la red sobre la que el guitarrista formaliza sus sentimientos. Música desoladora, como (parte de) la vida misma. — Ritmos del Mundo

Fugu

Fugu es uno de los primeros trabajos grabados por Scott Fields a su nombre. Fue Publicado en su momento en Geode Records, la discográfica del propio Fields, para desaparecer posteriormente del mapa. Tal y como ha ocurrido en alguna otra ocasión puntual, el sello portuguès Clean Feed lo ha puesto de nuevo en circulación. 

Los cinco temas de Fields, que aparecen acompañados de unas liner notes que en su intento de ser graciosas no tardan nada de pasar a ser un tanto pesadas, permiten disfrutar del magnífico trabajo del guitarrista tanto en la composición como en los arreglos. A pesar del aire camerístico de los temas (a lo que ayuda la presencia de tres instrumentos de cuerda, con el violonchelo tomando un papel preponderante a lo largo de toda la grabación y con Fields aplicándose en la guitarra elèctrica con cuerdas de nylon), en ellos hay espacio abundante para unas improvisaciones y unas interacciones magníficas por parte de los cuatro músicos. En grabaciones de tal nivel es difícil señalar algún tema en particular, aunque si tuviera que elegir alguno bien podría ser el que da título a la grabación, ;“The Plagiarist;” que es donde se alcanza la máxima tensión del disco, o ;“A Carrot Is a Carrot;”, el más extenso y con aire un tanto melancólico. 

Fugu es un nuevo acierto de Clean Feed. En este caso no por el camino de las novedades, sino por el de las reediciones. Es todo un placer poder disfrutar de pequeños tesoros escondidos, hasta ahora, como èste. — Tomajazz

Derek Taylor

Bitter Love Songs

Mordant wit and caustic self-deprecation have always been reliable elements in Scott Fields’ creative expression. From the pithy brickbats of semi-fictional critic Hugh Jarrid to the admirable, if puzzling, practice of publishing pans right alongside praises on his website, the guitarist has never shied away presenting the whole package of his persona, prickly pear portions and all. Even by Fields’ archly candid standards this new Clean Feed outing stands out. His liners read as a suite-like screed, pillorying a succession of unnamed assailants to his temper and patience. He saves the strongest recriminations for last, directing black roses and dead rat vitriol at those who have wronged him in love. Track titles wryly embellish on the conceit, my personal favorite being “Your parents must be ecstatic now.” Despite the dour and potentially distracting emotional context, the set stays sharply on point throughout, though it’s hard to tell exactly how much of the acrimony is genuine and how much is amplified for show.

The music curiously recalls the early Nineties work of Joe Morris in its preference for pared down frills-free interplay. Jagged single note runs race regularly atop undulating bass and drums rhythms. Think Flip and Spike, and more specifically “Itan” and “Mombaccus,” and your close to the aural mark. Fields’ tone is often a bit rounder and cleaner than JoMo’s and that may be a function of the recording, but there’s a comparable frequency of densely knotted note clusters, spit out at staccato intervals. Bassist Sebastian Gramss and drummer João Lobo traffic in comparable agitation and irascibility, shading in the cracks around Fields’ chattery plectrum pings while still keeping the pieces intentionally off-kilter. It’s a dynamic intended to ape the disquieting feeling just prior to when one’s heart goes under the knife of betrayal and scorn. The pieces follow similar schemas until “I was good enough for you until your friends butted in” when the seething clouds break a bit into more spacious variation of melancholy. This is easily Fields most jazz-oriented album in many moons and a welcome fang-fringed spin on familiar forms. — Bagatellen

We Were the Phliks

Scott Fields posits a somewhat idiosyncratic attitude toward musical partnerships. He takes his time and isn’t averse to what at first may seem like incongruous collaborations. This new Rogue Art release corroborates that characterization with what might be first in terms of instrumentation. On paper, the combination of electric guitar, tenor saxophone, analog synth and guzheng might seem an oil and water proposition, but Fields balances notation with improvisation over four long pieces and ably proves its viability. Each piece appears to be named after friends and patrons of the four.

The disc title refers indirectly to a phenomena often cited by Fields where bands in which he is involved commonly coalesce under his umbrella ensemble rubric. The shift in this case came not from a domineering sense of self-importance, but a gradual realization of Fields as focal point for the group. Thomas Lehn frequently acts as agent provocateur, his synth set-up the most mutable in terms of accessing taxonomically unfamiliar sounds. At times he swirls and eddies around the fringes, inserting gurgles and blips amidst the others’ more circumscribed interplay. In other spots, as on the opening of “Brad and Laura Winter” he surges into pole position, sounding a bit like Sun Ra behind a phalanx of buttons and keys and building a pump-organ-meets-calliope chorus in concert with Fengxia that in a weird way recalls the darker carny side of Tom Waits.

Mattias Schubert is similarly liberal in his palette on sax, moving from cottony breath sounds to skirling cries and even relatively straight melodic statements. As the strings contingent Fields and Fengxia make for a consistently catalytic pairing, the latter moving from fragments of Chinese melodies to spates of kitchen-utensils-on-iron-grate dissonance while Fields plays everything from faux classical patterns to hook-toothed blues arpeggios. Lulls do occur, but rarely for very long and each of pieces achieves a pleasingly organic tractability. Variety is the spice and the four pack plenty in. A word too to Fields clipped cadence liners which are as clever, whimsical and self-deprecating as ever and an apposite appendix to the music. — Bagatellen

Dénouement

An austere chamber-like atmosphere informs most of the numbers, augmented by the metallic amplification of the guitars and the muted contrasts between percussion and strings. Together the six move over an angular landscape of fractured melodic fragments, skittering harmonics and lopingly morose themes pausing along the way to sculpt a strong succession of enigmatic improvisations. Those who value music that challenges and incites rumination will find a great deal to decipher in the riddles of Field’s sound collages. — All About Jazz

Hornets Collage

A chamber music delicacy in the improvisations cloaks an underlying incisiveness, which in turn cleaves cleanly through airs of pretension. Roebke’s supple bass is the rhythmic fulcrum for the group. His crisply plucked lines ripple outward and surround the music in gentle waves of aqueous support. Field’s choice to employ only acoustic strings is essential to the group’s sonic palette. Even without the aid of amplification, he devises a startling display of guitar techniques, everything from jangling string-bending discord to dulcet lyricism. — Cadence Magazine

Gregory Taylor

96 Gestures

Composer-guitarist Scott Fields forgoes his usual small group work for a triumph of scale. On 96 Gestures, conductor Stephen Dembski and a dozen A-list free-jazz musicians — including Joseph Jarman (alto sax), Myra Melford (piano), François Houle (clarinet), and Rob Mazurek (cornet) — work from and elaborate upon Fields’ modular compositions. Three radically different performances pirouette as effortlessly as a Calder mobile in a gentle breeze. — Wired

Bill Tilland

Fugu

Compositions, all written by Fields, are structured but very expansive, and rely on the empathy and dexterity of the group members. The relative sameness of the instrumental timbres could have been a liability, but Fields’ writing actually seems to exploit similarities, encouraging the listener to enjoy and compare the nuances of each instrument’s sound…. There’s a wonderful suppleness and understated energy to this ensemble, achieved through a combination of musicianship, intelligence and uncommonly strong mutual sympathies. — Option Magazine

Dan Warburton

Beckett

Think of music you associate with Samuel Beckett and you probably think something spare, lean, minimal, Morton Feldman being the most obvious point of reference. There was, after all, their (anti-?)operatic collaboration Neither, and two of the composer’s three last completed works were Beckett-related (Words and Music, and For Samuel Beckett). But despite several striking similarities — compare Feldman’s fondness for gently permutating cells and the internal repetitions and sonic play of Beckett’s late prose — there are appreciable differences, notably the size and scale of their final works. While Feldman stretched out in the last decade of his life, almost as if he’d foreseen the arrival of the 80-minute compact disc that would become the ideal medium for the spacious, thinly-painted canvases of his late compositions, Beckett’s works became ever more condensed, distilled. (You could, though, argue that the ultimate distillation of his work was 1969’s tiny playlet, Breath, which, devoid of both actors and dialogue, lasts just 35 seconds, but there’s still some debate among Beckett scholars as to whether this was evidence of the author’s wry sense of humour, written as it was for Kenneth Tynan’s bawdy review Oh Calcutta!). Whatever, when you think Beckett you don’t automatically think of elegant and intricately crafted modern chamber jazz, but that’s precisely what guitarist Scott Fields offers us here on this magnificent quartet outing with John Hollenbeck (percussion), Scott Roller (cello) and Matthias Schubert (tenor saxophone).

There’s little direct correlation that I can find between the album’s five tracks and the Beckett works they take their titles from — Breath, Play, Come And Go, What Where and Rockaby (all plays as it turns out) — but dig a bit deeper and the similarities begin to appear. One of the reasons Beckett’s oeuvre has consistently fascinated musicians is its sheer musicality: a constant sense of play between micro and macro form, a concern for motive, idea, development, coupled with a wicked ear and subtle sense of humour. And that’s exactly what Fields is working with here. Sometimes the pieces are as ferociously determined as the monologue that propels The Unnamable to its unforgettable conclusion ("I can’t go on, I’ll go on"), sometimes they appear to slump into the ditch at the side of the road like Watt. Sometimes they’re as wild and effusive as Lucky’s celebrated stream-of-consciousness speech in Waiting for Godot, sometimes they’re as still as Still. Fields’ accompanying text, not surprisingly a little Beckettian itself, seems to be apologetic in tone (“All that improvisation. Anti-Beckett, if anything. I have a lot to answer for. Pray for me”) but there’s nothing to say sorry for. Beckett was apparently fond of Franz Schubert; I’d like to think he might dig Matthias too. The playing of all four musicians throughout is exemplary, the scores cunningly crafted and intriguing to the point of being frustrating (and if that isn’t Beckettian I don’t know what is) and the recording superb. What more could you ask for? A sequel, perhaps. — Paris Transatlantic Magazine

From the Diary of Dog Drexel

“The best plan for listening to this music is to treat it as a whole rather than worry about what came from where,” writes Chicago-born guitarist Scott Fields of this five-movement suite (if you’re interested in the title, check out the scrambled eggs on Fields’ website, www.scottfields.com) featuring Fields himself, Carrie Biolo on pitched and unpitched percussion, Guillermo Gregorio on alto sax and clarinet, Kyle Bruckmann on oboe and English horn and Greg Kelley on trumpet. The first four movements (“Conflicted”, “Pissed”, “Bummed” and “Agitated”) also require a conductor (Stephen Dembski), whereas the finale (“Medicated”) was constructed by Greg Taylor using Max/MSP software to work on solo improvisations by the ensemble members. Rossbin regulars expecting another helping of austere, spare improvisation (the label has released excellent and highly acclaimed work by Annette Krebs, Andrea Neumann, Toshi Nakamura, not to mention Greg Kelley’s second solo album) are in for a surprise; in both instrumentation and structure, this has more in common with Varése and Birtwistle than it does with Taku Sugimoto. Fields intentionally blurs the distinction between composed and improvised material in accordance with the fine AACM tradition he grew up with, with the result that “FTDODD” joins the 4CD Rastascan box set of Anthony Braxton’s Ghost Trance Music and Masashi Harada’s 1999 “Condanction Ensemble” as another great example of top-notch improvisors bringing their skills to bear on material of a more composed / structured nature. Bruckmann and Gregorio have plenty of opportunities to showcase their outstanding multiphonics, and those familiar with the extraordinary sonorities Kelley can summon from his trumpet on his solo recordings will be duly impressed by his mastery of Fields’ arching melodic lines. After the swirling, snarling tour de force of “Pissed”, “Bummed” is a wondrous, strange, bassless landscape inhabited by muffled plunks from Biolo’s xylophone and Fields’ nylon-string guitar and plaintive wails from the wind instruments. “Agitated”, despite its title, is a decidedly fresh flowing tangle of delicately scored melodic lines, before Fields stands aside in the final movement to allow Greg Taylor to extract tissue samples of solo material and subject them to cold laboratory scrutiny with his Max/MSP software. The resulting music is, like the entire album, intriguing and impressive, if a little frosty and detached. Of course, hardcore improv snobs will dismiss it as too composed and aficionados of the likes of Ferneyhough and Finnissy will probably find it too loose, but that’s the risk you run if you want to set up shop in this particular no man’s land. However, as this album demonstrates time and again, far from being barren wasteland between two frontier checkpoints, the territory in question is bursting with miraculous new life forms. —    Paris Transatlantic Magazine and Signal to Noise

Ken Waxman

Moersbow/OZZO

Having upped the number of musicians involved as well as the scope of his creative strategies, the newest orchestral work by American guitarist Scott Fields involves 23 players — plus him conducting — interpreting one, nearly-14-minute, and another four-part, hour-long composition. The result, recorded live in the guitarist’s adopted hometown of Köln, is satisfyingly striking, with the proviso that subsequent performances likely sounded different, considering that that the unique physical gestures used by Fields and the musicians to communicate are drawn from the American Manual Alphabet. 

Chicago-born Fields, who has recorded extensively over the past three decades in configurations ranging from duets with fellow guitarists Elliott Sharp and Jeff Parker to any number of combos, has gathered some of Köln’s most-accomplished players here, many as whom are as experienced in contemporary notated music as Jazz. Among the best-known improv-wise are saxophonists Frank Gratkowski and Matthias Schubert, tubaist Carl Ludwig Hübsch, pianist Philip Zoubek and Thomas Lehn who manipulates electronics. At the same time, players from the word of composition interpretation such as flautist Angelica Sheridan bring their unique talents to the interface. 

Lehn’s clicking and clanking oscillations, amplified by the computer work of Marion Wörle and Eva Pöpplein create the wavering cross tones which combine with acoustic instruments’ legato tones on “Moersbow”. Played as quietly as possible, in sharp contrast to the excessive fortissimo crunches produced by Merzbow, the Japanese noise musician after whom the piece is named, widened flute obbligatos, muted and discursive trumpet solos from Udo Moll or Matthias Mainz plus high-frequency chording from the pianist keep the salute bubbling at the mid-point between inchoate and invention. 

“OZZO 1-4” is even more polyphonic and multi-tonal, with the variations encompassing every manner of pastoral and abrasive leitmotif, especially in the over-30 minute first section. With processed squeaks and voltage pops from the electronics frequently underscoring the narrative, the contrapuntal evolution includes exchanges among sul ponticello strings, a brassy lead trumpet, split tones and irregular vibrations from the reeds, and stop-time yet stentorian thumps from percussionist Christian Thomés. Meanwhile Florian Standler’s accordion flutters flit among the solid textures. Twittering and stuttering alto saxophone squeaks are framed by chromatic brass harmonies, while the flute work of Sheridan and Michael Heupel ranges from gentle to staccato. More than pedal-point time-markers, the tubas of Hübsch and Melvyn Poore are put to more extensive use with contrapuntal displays of brass beats as well as elaborating sequences divided among the two, the accordion and Tang’s walking bass. Before the first section’s climax is defined by embellished linear string motion, vibist Tom Lorenz and tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert duet on one theme variant which oozes “OZZO” closest to the standard Jazz form. 

Alternating tutti and individual theme elaborations, the last section weaves strings, brass, saxophone splutters, pitch-sliding flute lines, clip-clop drumming and some computer pulsations to reach an almost tonic finale. With multiphonic contributions from a nearly all the players appear sequentially, the finale is almost pseudo-romantic. 

While the particular circumstances under which the Multiple Joyce Orchestra interpreted Fields’ compositions may alter next time around, this CD is proof that the American’s skills as a composer as well as a guitarist continue to mature imaginatively. — Jazz Word

Music for the Radio Program "This American Life"

Complete with the requisite word “American” in its title, Chicago-born Köln-based guitarist Scott Fields offers his vision of Americana on this CD, with themes ostensibly composed to be used by This American Life, a long-running radio program on Chicago’s WBEZ.

Before fearing that Fields has become a Bill Frisell doppelganger, wedded to country and folk-flavored tropes, his sardonic track explanations suggest otherwise. His comments about the show’s “carpetbagger” host scavenging music to be “sliced, diced, mixed, and fried” may prevent these themes from reaching their intended market. More to the point, each of the five tracks operates on multiple levels, with atonal and contrapuntal asides and extensions sneaking out from within the rolling, lyrical narratives.

Additionally, this American Life is played by two expatriate Yanks, one German and one Portuguese. In different combinations the other players have worked with Fields on earlier CDs. Texas-born cellist Scott Roller, who moved to Germany in 1984, usually works with New Music ensembles such as Musikfabrik NRW, the Helios String Quartet and Frankfurt’s Ensemble Modern. German bassist Sebastian Gramss plays with saxophonist Frank Gratkowski and in the large James Choice Orchestra, while João Lobo, who is himself expatriated in Belgium, skillfully moves between playing jazz and Portuguese popular music.

Intricately connected throughout, most of the pieces evolve from Gramss’ brisk walking slaps and Lobo’s rhythmic rebounds, rolls and energetic drum head popping. Roller’s split tone excursions are so staccato and high-pitched that the resulting sounds often resemble those of a soprano saxophone as much as a string set. Meanwhile Fields plucks, twangs and pulses rarely push the tempo quicker than moderato.

Two instances of where this cohesion works are “Can He Make a W?” and “That and a Dime…” Taken languidly, the former depends on thick bass thumps and unforced drum drags as spidery guitar runs and cello portamento lead to cohesive trade-offs between the two string players. As the cellist’s tone becomes lighter, the piece climaxes with darker story-telling vamps from Fields.

In contrast “That and a Dime…” is heartier and heavier with stress provided by string drones. Then as Gramss gently and gradually modulates the underlying pulses, both the guitarist and cellist scrub and slap their strings to produce sharp, sweeping sul ponticello concordance. Later they divide, with Fields’ output feathery and delicate outlined against Roller’s glissandi. As these two unroll rubato pulses, the textures are complemented with walking connection from Gramss and Lobo’s clip-clopping shuffles. A final, speedier variation knits together Lobo’s pops, ruffs and drags, Fields’ buzzing runs and staccato pumps from the arco players.

Droll or not, snatches of these compositions may be unrecognizable if played between stories on This American Life — if that situation is actually possible. More fruitful for those who appreciate improvised music, would be to listen to this CD and the pieces in complete form. — Jazz Word

Bitter Love Songs

Another improviser who tours as frequently as [Evan] Parker is guitarist Scott Fields. Chicago-born, Fields moved to Köln, Germany a few years back. On the witty Bitter Love Songs (Clean Feed CF102CD), he leads a trio completed by a Portuguese rhythm section: bassist Sebastian Gramss and drummer João Lobo. Fields’ compositions, which match liquid guitar runs, slinky bass lines and on-the-beat drumming, are still at variance with their sardonic titles.

For instance “My Love is Love, Your Love is Hate,” features a spinning staccato theme from Fields that is stretched with slurred fingering until it seems that it will rupture, but doesn’t. Working in double counterpoint, the massed strings join to produce a barrage of notes, with Fields sounding as if he’s playing microtonally and Gramss slapping a backbeat. Meanwhile Lobo’s flams precede an intermezzo for ringing guitar licks. Note clusters are lobbed between the players on “You Used to Say I Love You but So What Now.” But the strategy is different. Fields’ contrapuntal chording skirts C&W picking, while Gramss resonates handfuls of low-pitched timbres. Eventually as the bassist settles on legato pacing, Fields wraps up with echoing, blues-based licks.

Gramss’ bass work owes its suppleness to sonic extensions from older bass specialists such as New York’s Mark Helias, who has recorded in Toronto. His Open Loose band includes drummer Tom Rainey and tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby. —   Jazz Word

Song Songs Song

Cologne-based expatriate American guitarist Scott Fields frames this memorable quartet session as a tribute to existential Irish writer Samuel Beckett (1906-1989). Unlike Beckett’s almost static works featuring lonely humans trying to articulate the unexpressive however, Fields’ compositions manage to be both stirring and affecting.

Although the longer tracks incorporate Beckett-like extended pauses, elsewhere all-encompassing, multi-voiced counterpoint recalls not the Irish dramatist’s bare-bones style, but the overlapping dialogue of film makers such as Robert Altman. American playwright David Mamet received a similar homage from Fields in 2000 and the subsequent years have fortified the guitarist’s playing and writing…or is it acting and directing?

Dramatis personae in this work include a cast of experienced actors…er, players. German tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert exposes timbres ranging from pumping atonal slurs to echoing, chesty vibrations; versatile American percussionist John Hollenbeck busily propels the splintered beat with his regular kit, while using water-glass-like pings, pealing chimes, and what sounds like rubber-balls bouncing on snare tops for added scene-setting. Yank expat cellist Scott Roller, of the legit Helios String Quartet, adds cross-swiped col legno jabs as effortlessly as vamping walking bass lines.

While the staccato “Play” projects quadruple counterpoint from all concerned — demonstrating call-and-call rather than call-and-response — the nearly 30-minute agitato “What Where” is Fields’ chef d’oeuvre. With his knob-twisting distortion and slurred fingering on show, the guitarist elaborates the accelerating explosive theme on top of solid rhythms propelled both by Hollenbeck’s unaffected smacks, slaps and pops and near-identical stop-and-start voicing of scrapes, whistles, stops and vibrations from cello and saxophone.

Thematically conclusive throughout, Beckett transcends its derivation to become CD that is certainly more polyphonic — and often more theatrical — than Beckett’s writing. — Coda Magazine

We Were the Phliks

Utilizing the textures available from one instrument which assumed its modern form sometime between the 10th and the 15th century and another 20th century invention considered antique because it’s merely analogue, guitarist Scott Fields has created an almost 70½-minute CD that’s as audacious as it is rewarding.

Naturally being improvised music, We Were The Phliks also depends on the interpretive skills of the four players as much as the graphical or conventional notation Fields uses for these four long pieces. A mixture of experiences and cultures, the players are Fields, the Chicago-born guitarist who has lived in Köln, Germany for the past few years; two German-born Köln residents: tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert and analogue synthesizer player Thomas Lehn; plus Xu Fengxia, a native of Shanghai, who now lives in Hövelhof and plays the guzheng, a large Chinese zither whose most familiar shape was established by the 15th century.

All the players are open to new experiences however. Fields, whose collaborators have ranged from fellow guitarist Jeff Parker to oboist Kyle Bruckmann, and Schubert, who is part of a co-op trio with tubaist Carl-Ludwig Hübsch and trombonist Wolter Wierbos, manipulate traditional jazz instruments to this end. Lehn, whose extended wires and in-put plugs characterize his axe of choice as a pre-1980s model, often plays with fellow sound explorers like saxophonist John Butcher. As well, despite her instrument’s antiquity, Xu has recorded with Free players such as percussionist Roger Turner.

Operating in non-traditional territory, the sounds created here don’t replicate expected timbres anyhow. Xu’s guzheng vibrations sometimes resemble those of a double bass or a banjo; Schubert is as likely to output wispy flutters and tongue slaps as honks and legato runs; and Lehn’s synthesizer does double duty as an electronic keyboard and to trigger otherworldly oscillations and drones. While Fields does comp, his licks would never be confused with those of Barney Kessel.

At points in fact, settling on a fashion in which to simultaneously interact with Schubert’s altissimo squeaks, Xu’s triple-stopping banjo-like peals and Lehn’s disconnected electronic pulses, the guitarist tries out crunchy, downward string trebles that balance between Bluegrass runs and Hawaiian echoes.

When the sonic diffusion among the four doesn’t evolve in rondo-like fashion, it does so in dual counterpoint. For instance the pleasantness of Xu’s chromatic plinks and plunks is contrasted with Fields’ staccato reverb; or Lehn’s vibrating electronic drones are texturally contrasted with Schubert’s trilling smears. Elsewhere, distortions from the two electrified instruments create cumulative, polyphonic crackles and sputters. In still other spots, the saxophone’s twittering phrasing turns tenderly legato, while the guzheng’s zither-like qualities disappear into lute-like glissandi.

Each player’s techniques and ruses protrude with structured logic during the more than 24½ minutes of “Assi Glöde.” Stuttering barks triggered from the synthesizer, plus distorted chording and stop-time rasgueado from the guitar escalate to contrapuntally contrast with Schubert’s irregularly paced growls and Xu’s chromatic plectrum plucks.

Midway through, while the guzheng player’s abrasively flat picks, the reedist’s fluttering vibrations and split tones are shadowed by overlaid, distorted guitar runs. Soon with the combined pulsations making up a continuous electro-acoustic background, single reed puffs move to the foreground. Eventually, a new passage of motor-driven oscillations from Lehn encourages Fields to abandon single-stroke licks to create a throbbing crescendo of sprawling multiphonics. That is quickly amplified by Schubert’s reed snorts and spetrofluctuation. With the climax attained, a few final saxophone breaths and echoing guitar fills confirm the piece’s conclusion.

On earlier CDs, Fields has celebrated such accomplished literary figures as American playwright David Mamet and Irish dramatist Samuel Becket. Featuring this unique mixture of almost ancient, near-modern and contemporary textures, the oddly titled CD’s literary precedent could be a time-shifting science fiction novel that intersects concepts of past, present and future. Overall, We Were The Phliks is definitely a good read…that is listen. — Jazz Word

From the Diary of Dog Drexel

Scott Fields is yet another musician interested in melting the boundaries between so-called jazz and so-called classical music.

He’s usually identified with the free music side of things through recorded and other sessions with the likes of bassist Michael Formanek, percussionist Michael Zerang, clarinetist Fran腔is Houle and drummer Hamid Drake. Yet the Madison, Wis.-based guitarist also has advanced a method by which chamber ensembles like the one on this carefully designed CD can develop extended improvisations.

Seemingly a close cousin to Butch Morris’s theory of conduction, Field’s process is built on a tonal system that Stephen Dembski, a University of Wisconsin-Madison music professor, who conducts the quintet here, developed. The American Manual Alphabet and traditional conducting gestures are used by the conductor to select from melodic fragments. Then, as musicians switch between motives, the basic materials for their improvisations — primarily 48 non-linear scales upon which the motives and gestures are built, plus the underlying feel — also change.

What results, at least on this CD, is five examples of abstruse, unconventional chamber music. Truthfully though, the outcome doesn’t sound that dissimilar from other small group, classically oriented pieces for strings, horns and percussion developed by improvisers who haven’t advanced specially designated theories. Additionally, although all the disc’s acrimonious-sounding song titles are Fields’s — who admits that “my porn name would be ‘Dog Drexel,’” as are the first four compositions, this is still overall, ensemble work.

Naming his band in homage to the Art Ensemble of Chicago, the guitarist’s playing partners get the space within which to forge their own lines. Interestingly not one has much hard-core jazz background. Clarinet and alto saxophonist Guillermo Gregorio’s history of experimentation stretches from his beginnings in Buenos Aires to his present residency in Chicago. Right now he works with similar committed players like cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm and Carrie Biolo, who is also on this disc. Percussionist Biolo who has recorded the formal music of Cornelius Cardew and Anthony Braxton has also toured with eccentric guitarist Eugene Chadbourne. Another associate of Lonberg-Holm and Zerang, not to mention Gregorio, oboist and hornist Kyle Bruckmann describes himself as a freelance classical musician.

Conservatory-trained trumpeter Greg Kelley sometimes plays free jazz with veterans like saxophonist Paul Flaherty and Braxton, but spends most of his time exploring the outer limits of textures created by his horn. He has released two notable solo CDs and often performs with other Boston-centred sonic explorers like saxophonist Bhob Rainey.

Kelley’s extended technique gets a suitable showcase on “Conflicted,” its polyrhythmic texture expanded to a longer form than on the other tracks. Advancing to triple tonguing from primary tones that morph between those of a baroque piccolo trumpet and breathy intervals, the initial theme is advanced by unison clarinet and vibes. As well, Bruckmann’s English horn articulates the instrument’s standard tone, but much tarter and sharper than classical types would expect. Eventually Gregorio’s alto saxophone and Fields’s nylon-string guitar alternate long lines until a harmonic blend of most of the instruments nearly create liturgical organ chords. Staccato pitch sliding arising from horn trills, trumpet blasts and harsh electric guitar fills soon turns repetitive mirroring the title, as feedback-laden licks presage a whining horn vamp gradually dissolving into silence.

“Pissed,” the shortest — at less than 8½ minutes — track is also the only other piece to truly reflect its appellation. It’s noisy, with smeared splutter from the trumpeter contrasting with woodwinds’ multiphonics and some metallic tone slivers from the vibes. Then discordant electric guitar notes join with the oboe to goose the theme into a higher pitch. At this point, Kelley seems to be fully inhabiting his horn, blaring as he comes up with balloon inflation sounds that mix with unpitched percussion hocketing and rococo horn lines.

Although longer, “Bummed” and “Agitated” may revolve around a shifting tonal centre and highlight conflicting musical patterns, but by this points the smears and multiphonics have been expected, like the sound of a pooch whose bark is worse than his bite. As a matter of fact, the edgy wooden-sounding percussion, legato oboe tones and resonant Hawaiian guitar allusion on the former and quieter vibes and nylon-string plucks on the later seem to suggest unified forward motion rather than polyrhythmic exploration. The adjective “pleasant” even comes to mind. It’s almost as if what you though was a ferocious junkyard hound has been revealed as a fluffy lap dog.

Metallic as all get out, “Medicated” — poor puppy Drexel — while notable on its own seems to be in variance with the other tracks. Software-constructed from Ensemble solo improvisations by Gregory Taylor, the result is wiggles, whooshes, whistles and multi-tonal echoes that can probably be linked to reed blasts, tingling bells and outer- space rockabilly guitar licks. Including what appears to be tapes running backwards creating voices like David Seville’s Chipmunks, the piece builds up to electronic drones and ends with a reverberating vibe note.

Taken together the entire project is satisfying, though not outstanding. If the pseudo-electronica had been dispensed with and more emphasis put on toughening up the initial polyrhythmic invention, things would have been more striking. Right now, though, it can satisfy many — especially those following the saga of Fields’s ever-changing Ensemble — and suggest new interest in what else the guitarist can create as a composer. — Jazz Weekly and Jazz Word

Mamet

Self proclaimed programmatic music, MAMET is a series of interlocking compositions “guided by” five of the plays written by American playwright David Mamet. Mamet, the wordsmith, is notorious for the care he puts into the cadences of his dialogue and Madison, Wisc.-based guitarist Scott Fields has tried to reflect both the words and the structure of the plays in his tunes.

How well does he succeed? Quite well in a musical sense, since the improvisations created by the guitarist and his helpmates — Chicago drummer Michael Zerang and New York bassist Michael Formanek — could certainly stand on their own. But whether each properly reflects the dramatic work it’s supposed to represent is more of a moot point. Keeping in mind that the guitar here represents Mamet’s female characters and the bass his male ones helps prolong the idea.

An almost 22 minute tour-de-force — and the longest track on the disc — “The Woods” goes the farthest towards reifying Fields’ thesis. Depicting a two-character play that simmers with an undercurrent of suppressed violence which finally explodes in the final scene, the sounds move from nearly inaudible at the beginning to arena rock level at the end. Beginning with hushed bass notes, percussion clicks and the odd guitar lick, a cowbell suggests the rural setting. Following the original melancholy theme, all bowed bass and cymbal runs, a bass drum wash and cymbal swish introduces the guitar, which becomes louder as the seconds tick by. This lyrical guitar section is supposed to reflect the female character’s hope that her relationship will last, but a deep, dark, masculine bass solo seems to foreshadow its doom. Finally, after harsh guitar notes which are offered up like dagger thrusts, a furious physical fight is depicted. Fields concentrates his repeated held notes on staccato screeches and the savagery of Jimi Hendrix-style feedback. All three musicians operate at magnified fortissimo for a while until the melancholy theme returns at the conclusion.

One of Mamet’s most famous works, “Oleanna”, about the transformation of a power relationship between a female student and a male professor, thrives in this setting as well. With Zerang’s percussion keeping things moving in the background, over the course of the tune Field’s guitar lines gradually gain in the strength and intensity as Formanek’s bass moves from a strong bowed part to short, deep, plucked notes which almost slow to stasis. Reflecting sameness in tempo and atmosphere, the other tracks are less satisfactory, but that perhaps may be a function of Mamet’s themes rather than Fields’ conceptions. Still, trying to relate Zerang’s percussion to playing cards being dealt or money jingling on “Prairie Du Chien” may be too much of a stretch — especially for those who haven’t seen the play.

Held to a different standard than the usual guitar, bass and drums work out, Fields has to be commended for his imagination as well as for what he has produced. Convincingly, for the greatest part of the discs, the musicians have used their skills to put remarkable improvised flesh on the programmatic compositional bones.

Exploring an unusual musical byway, Fields has created a disc that can be thought about as well as heard. — Jazz Word

Seven Deserts

Vigorously amplifying program ideas which date back to his 2001 Mamet CD, while incorporating orchestral colors from the instrumentalists he now works with since relocating to Köln in 2003, is American guitarist Scott Fields. Culmination of these concepts is this seven-part suite, with Fields’ composition admirably interpreted by a 20-piece ensemble conducted by Stephen Dembski. The presence of a conductor confirms that the arrangements for the mostly German group, calls for notated music precision coupled with improvisational liberties.

This dichotomy is especially apparent with the scene setting “Desert 2” and “Desert 3” where tints and temperatures of the desert landscape shift with studied regularity. The area’s barren and blooming qualities are suggested by sonic descriptions, overlain with unspecified menace, and with the fixed timbres interrupted by Free Music tropes.

“Desert 2” for instance contrasts a dreamy introduction of arco strings and flute peeps with jagged string inserts supplemented by resounding double bass thumps from Pascal Niggenkemper and Christian Weber. With a theme suggesting caravans gliding across the sands, the exposition, driven by subtle strokes from Ramón Gardella’s marimba and Arturo Portugal’s vibraphone, is shattered by bite-sized cries from Ingrid Laubrock’s soprano and Frank Gratkowski’s clarinet. As calm and cacophony alternate, the narrative builds to a multiphonic crescendo via crow-cawing brass from trumpeter Udo Moll and tailgate slurps from trombonist Matthias Muche. Finally the brass tones diminish to meet whistling flutes. Guitarists Fields and David Stackenäs move forward on “Desert 3”, rubbing and shaking discordant timbres as the lower-pitched strings maintains a microtonal counter line. Finally sweeping and strumming strings convene and give way to a snazzy Balkan-like reed interlude, seconded by burps from Melvyn Poore’s tuba, until the reed player create a squealing finale.

Conflicting sequences like these slip, shudder and slide throughout the Seven Deserts with section resolution as apt to be slowly unfolding near-romanticism as busy multiphonics. While the narrative gentleness is suffused with unexplainable dread, it’s only in the penultimate “Desert 6” where Rock-like guitar flanges and tenor saxophonist Matthias Schubert’s New Thing-like split tones destabilize the ongoing program joined by flutists Daniel Agi, Helen Bledsoe and Norbert Rodenkirchen trilling textures as energetic as the percussionists’ ruffs. “Desert 7” provides a coda with extra gravitas supplied by sobbing reeds, tuba burbles and sul ponticello strings. A delicate flute-violin blend brings the final sequence full circle to the beginning.

Singular and striking simultaneously, this tome confirm how Fields has achieved his goals while creating dazzling musical expression. —   Jazz Word

Barry Witherden

Music for the Radio Program "This American Life"

The bassist here, Sebastian Gramss, featured on Das Mollsche Gesetz’s Catalogue Of Improvisation, which I reviewed in The Wire 303. DMG’s improvisations follow two rules: no piece should last more than 60 seconds, and each should be followed by a pause of the same duration as the music. In contrast, Scott Fields allows the musicians to stretch out, and all five tracks last around a quarter-hour. With a line-up like this (electric guitar, cello, bass, drums), the label “chamber jazz” always hovers menacingly, but it is not particularly helpful as shorthand. Fields and co produce thoughtful music, but not unduly cerebral, dry or cautious — the improvisations are adventurous, constantly engaging and often passionate. The last Fields album I heard, Dénouement (Clean Feed) took more than a decade to get a proper release. Fortunately, this very impressive session has taken only a year to escape. Incidentally, This American Life is a Chicago Public Radio show that its producers describe as “movies for the radio,” and if this CD is anything to go by, it must be addictive listening. — The Wire

Dénouement

This session, featuring two trios of guitar, bass and drums, was cut in December 1997. Chicago based guitarist Scott Fields hawked the recording around for two years, and the labels that bit either backed out or went broke. In desperation he pressed some copies and issued them through his own short-lived label, called Geode.

It would have been easy for the members of the twin trios to get locked into some kind of contest, but Fields chose colleagues aware and willing enough to co-operate rather than compete, and the two winds of the ensemble dovetail superbly into an integrated unit. Fields’s co-guitarist is Jeff Parker, the bassists are Jason Roebke and Hans Sturm, the drummers Michael Zerang and Hamid Drake: it would be hard to distinguish them in a blindfold test, as the players echo, interweave (and listen to) each other with considerable subtlety.

For the session, Fields devised related but dissimilar pitch sets for the two trios, and specified time signatures equal in length but divided differently. If this suggests the music is dry, it isn’t though it is often contemplative and a little opaque. Those, and there seem to be many, who hated Jeff Parker’s sometime gig in Tortoise and the 2005 Fields/Parker collaboration Song Songs Song (Delmark) are perhaps unlikely to connect with Dénouement, but for my ten cents it’s inventive and consistently engaging. — The Wire

Matthew Wuethrich

Song Songs Song

Guitarist and composer Scott Fields dislikes easy categorization. He’s created nonsensical terms for his music to prevent critics from pigeonholing him. He defined The Scott Fields Ensemble “as consisting of everyone who has performed or recorded with the group at any time. Although not all members are present at any given performance or recording, they are there in spirit when not corporeal.” His liner notes for this duo release with guitarist Jeff Parker are equally ornery, stealing potential critics’ rhetorical thunder. The six slippery improvisations live up to his rhetoric; all of them actively defy musical limitations. 

Superficially, the pieces suggest an array of approaches: minimalism, free improv, Morton Feldman’s austere structures, blues, rich jazz. Parker and Fields, however, go beyond any one approach, edging toward Cage’s definition of sound: pitch, duration, timbre and loudness. The duo works in a larger narrative arc with ample use of repetition, silence, subtle variation and texture. 

Fields’ half-serious titles express something of the duo’s intentions. Each one sounds like the name of a painting, and describes their collage approach to structure. On “Untitled, 1968, Bing Cherry Juice, KY Jelly, Ketchup on Vellum,” Parker and Fields glue together a series of spiky feedback bursts, tangled runs, volume-knob fade-ins and fade-outs and percussive strums. “Untitled, 2004, Dried Blood on Gauze, Elastic Strip with Adhesive Backing” begins like a musical still life as single notes, chords, plucks and scribbles briefly flicker. Isolated moments take center stage before the duo plunge each into a thicket of feedback and metallic ringing. 

The artists continually lead the listener in different directions. On “Untitled, 2001, Soot on Slate,” the two guitarists excavate the melodic content, and focus on single tones, chords, or progressions. They examine their finds from every angle until they transform it completely. The pair wanders a labyrinth, not searching for its center or exit, but exploring each corner, route and dead-end. 

Parker and Fields shadow each other throughout so closely that separating them becomes fruitless. Both use a sharp attack and quick decay, quiet dynamics, stunted phrasing, and very few, if any, effects. Their guitars on “Untitled, 1955, Crayon on Kellogg’s Corn Flakes Box” stand naked. They clip phrases with rapid volume changes, chime delicate harmonics, grate the strings with their picks. The cumulative effect is at times powerful, at others dismayingly restless. 

Two Parker pieces nicely bookend the album. The bubbling rhythmic lines of the album opener “LK 92,” reminiscent of Ali Farka Toure’s buoyant guitar work, act as a palate cleanser, while “The Fields of Cologne” serves as an after-dinner cappuccino. These pieces’ more overt melodies lighten the album’s unceasing investigation. — Dusted

Ron Wynn

Song Songs Song

Guitarists Jeff Parker and Scott Fields’ Song Songs Song (Delmark) is about as experimental as it gets on a domestic label. The duo utilizes feedback, distortion, samples, snippets, loops, wah-wah and many other things on a program of material that doesn’t follow any discernible pattern. Sometimes it is uncanny, other times rather incomprehensible, but it is always challenging and intriguing. “The Fields of Cologne” and “LK 92” are the two shortest pieces and come closest to containing conventional devices as a set (or at least recognizable) melody, middle section and conclusion. Otherwise, the pair blurs and obliterates notions about soloists and accompanists, switches places at unexpected times, fades in and out of pieces, varies the volume in unusual sequences and offers a work that can be enthralling, confusing and annoying, sometimes all at once. — Nashville City Paper

Scott Yanow

Beckett

Although guitarist Scott Fields is the composer for each of the five lengthy compositions on Beckett, the music sounds very much like episodic free improvisations. The guitar-tenor-cello-percussion quartet has an unusual sound. The use of wit in places, along with occasional melodic passages, serves as a contrast to some rather noisy sound explorations. The musicians listen closely to each other although quite often they follow completely independent paths. The final results will certainly keep listeners guessing for just when one is ready to sum it all up as a freeform screamfest, the mood shifts and the band plays a spacey ballad. Listeners who are open to rockish sounds and avant-garde ideas will find this music of strong interest. 3½ stars — All Music Guide