37:55 |cs133

Jacob Wick e Andrew Greenwald são dois improvisadores norte-americanos de Nova Iorque, ainda na casa dos 20 anos. Além de curriculum sólido no jazz downtown e na música contemporânea onde lhes nasceram os dentes e se formaram, têm em comum o mesmo gosto pela densidade e pela textura do som e por um tipo de linguagem musical despojada, que tem vindo a fazer o seu caminho, sobretudo na Europa, mas também nos EUA e no Japão. A mais recente saída em disco do duo aconteceu na Creative Sources Recordings, e é bem o exemplo de uma nova forma de estar na música improvisada que tem vindo a contaminar a nova geração de músicos norte-americanos, nados e criados num mundo em que o jazz stricto sensu tem um peso muito grande. Wick e Greenwald iniciaram os esforços conjuntos em 2004, no trabalho sobre composição instantânea, concentrados em aplicar técnicas não ortodoxas sobre as propriedades físicas inatas dos instrumentos: trompete como tubo de metal por onde se faz a circulação do ar sob pressão; percussão sobre materiais feitos de madeira, plástico e metal – síntese elementar combinada que procura extrair sons ainda por ouvir e dar-lhe uma organização diversa da que é usual, próxima da que nasce das técnicas e métodos de trabalho usados na criação de esculturas e instalações sonoras – a sound art. Em 37:55 (Creative Sources CS 133), a ampla gama de possibilidades sonoras, favorecendo embora o despojamento e o reducionismo, evita o espartano descarnamento que caracteriza alguma da produção congénere da actualidade, expande-se em ciclos alternados que vão do silêncio à densidade saturada, mantendo um controlo apertado sobre a construção e o desenvolvimento das peças. Música consequente, vale por si e pela atitude saudável de procurar novas concepções sonoras com base na experimentação e no diálogo permanente entre os músicos. Eduardo Chagas (Jazz e Arredores)

This disc fits in perfectly with the other releases from this fine label in that it walks the line that divides minimal improv from more "conventional" instrument use. The opener (and longest track) features some beautifully wacked-out trumpeting against walking-in-the-leaves percussion. Pay special attention to the harmonics here: split tones and chords seem to rise from the blast of metal covered air. Over the course of its run the duo explore many different combinations of sounds & techniques, and it's again easy to forget that we're hearing trumpet and percussion, a good thing. There are several pauses and re-starts, which give us opportunity to re-gather our attention. Later, high-pitched whining is placed alongside squealing curlicues, a sped-up drone with pig solo. The next piece stays fairly quiet through its entire length, a box of newborn mice accompanied by wind through a half-closed window.
Track 3 opens up with what sounds like mad string bowing, an ethnographic forgery from an imaginary region. Drumhead scrape and quick tings and bangs begin and the trumpet resumes its slight-of-ear. After a (very) short percussion solo, Wick sends out note-less blasts in measured segments, occasionally adding feedback sounding high notes. They stop abruptly.
Perhaps best described as a good example of "sound-improvisation", this disc had me returning several times to re-listen, something I can't say about a lot of recordings these days. Jeph Jerman (The Squid's Ear)

[...] On his knockout duo album with percussionist Andrew Greenwald, the new 37:55 (Creative Sources), his playing is almost polyphonic: he overlaps acidic, high-pitched cries with plush breath sounds, from sibilant flutters to tight, unpitched puffs. I’ve never heard a trumpet sound so inhuman—his flickering tone and stuttery articulation dislocate the instrument’s voice like an electronic filter, and for minutes at a time you might imagine you’re listening to an old-school analog synth.[...] Peter Margasak (Chicago Reader)

Here's another name to add to the already long list of so-called "extended techniques" trumpeters: Brooklyn-based Jacob Wick, who joins percussionist Andrew Greenwald for a set of four duets, entitled, wait for it, "Track 1", "Track 2", "Track 3" and "Track 4", with a total duration of, yes, 37'55". One supposes that the track and album titles were chosen not out of lack of imagination but more as a plea for listeners to approach the pieces as "pure music" (whatever that is), or maybe an act of homage to the likes of Braxton – I see he's now up to Composition No 367B – and Cage. Duration as title of work, 4'33" being the most notorious example. You could say there's a touch of late Cage Number Piece austerity to Wick and Greenwald's first track, which, clocking in at over 21 minutes, divides the album in half – indeed, one wonders whether a vinyl release wouldn't have been more appropriate, as the three shorter pieces that follow seem to belong together as a more lively counterbalancing triptych, one that makes for an interesting comparison with Nate Wooley and Paul Lytton's recent (untitled) LP outing on Broken Research.
Lowercase / EAI seems to have arrived at a fork where two roads diverge in a yellow wood, and can't decide whether to go further down Sugimoto Lane to where it bends in the undergrowth of silence or take the other path which, having perhaps the better claim, doubles back to more traditional chatter and clatter. On 37:55 Wick and Greenwald take a couple of tentative steps in each direction before heading back to the junction to consider their next move. They still seem just a little afraid to let themselves go (notably on the third track), but it's that repressed energy which gives the music its peculiar urgency. Dan Warburton (Paris Transatlantic)

A trumpet (Wick) and percussion (Greenwald) duo; don’t recall having heard other music from these two but I might be wrong. Classic CS release, a study in the pneumatic exploration of conduits as opposed to the subtle crackling of objects inserted in a percussive kit and expertly manipulated. Good recording quality, very detailed sound (especially by headphone). Wet (h/k)isses, sucking and popping against scraping, brushing and rubbing (and some eruptive drum outburst, such as a considerable fraction of the third track). Never in a frenzy yet apparently aroused sometimes, the musicians chart their path across the genre’s obvious references with a degree of class and reciprocal attentiveness, thus producing an artefact that’s much more listenable and significant than several hypothetical musts from Zen-ish labels and artists whose subordination to expectancy – even in a theoretically enlightened mindset - makes me vomit. Massimo Ricci (Temporary Fault)