Barbara Bruckmüller Jazz Orchestra, feat. Aruán Ortiz: A Chain of Moments

Julio Cortázar's Rayuela (1963), Chris Ware's Building Stories (2012), and Mark Z. Danielewski's House of Leaves (2000) are novels—both written and graphic—that stand out, not just for their literary merit, but also for the various ways readers can engage with them. A similar phenomenon occurs on the listening level with A Chain Of Moments: Suite in Five Movements, the ambitious project by Vienna-born pianist, composer and bandleader Barbara Bruckmüller.

This was likely not her original intention when, years ago, she conceived a suite that narrates a personal relationship through five segments cohesively linked by a central idea: the musical exploration of time and transience. However, once fully developed and recorded as a triple album, it is almost inevitable, as with the aforementioned literary creations, that an inquisitive listener will engage in the necessary permutations to better appreciate the significant transformations and subtle nuances presented by the three versions of each fragment that constitute this singular, but at the same time multilayered, work.

It took Bruckmüller seven long years to achieve her desired result, overcoming various obstacles along the way. The story begins in 2017 when the big band leader, supported by a scholarship from the Austrian Federal Chancellery, composed a suite for piano, jazz orchestra and string quartet. The initial performances and recordings fell short of the creator's expectations, mainly due to the pivotal role of the pianist in this project. Subsequently, funding challenges for the big band caused the project to stall for several years. The logistical and creative stalemate was resolved when she received support from her family and met pianist Aruán Ortiz, who quickly took an interest in the project.

Bruckmüller had already admired the Santiago de Cuba-born musician, who offered his rich versatility, essential for an initiative of this nature. Under the mantle of impeccable technique, the Cuban musician seamlessly blends what could be termed avant-garde Latin jazz with shadowy European classicism (the romanticism of Frédéric Chopin, the impressionism of Federico Mompou ) and fiercely atonal explorations (as evidenced in his collaborations with Don Byron, James Brandon Lewis and Ivo Perelman). These combine with more conventional approaches used with Wallace Roney, Raynald Colom or Esperanza Spalding.

The leader, meanwhile, came from classical piano studies and a subsequent collaborative relationship with the much-missed Vienna Art Orchestra (VAO hereafter), which later led her to establish her own big band and record a few albums with it. Regardless, the influence of Mathias Ruegg's essential band on this work is evident, although its intricate compositions and dense orchestrations have been softened and lightened from their intricate complexity and intellectual winks.

Ortiz's arrival also prompted Bruckmüller to consider new approaches to her initial idea, allowing her to expand it beyond her original plans while creating a financially viable strategy for tours and concerts. This led to the creation of two additional versions of the suite, one chamber-like for string quartet and piano and another formatted for a jazz sextet. This new framework empowered her to experiment with these three different formats based on venues and audiences, adding an extra dimension to her increasingly multifaceted work. By the end of February 2024, the three corresponding albums were recorded live, released in August 2024 (Self Produced) and made available through the artist's website and on Bandcamp. The third recording took place at Vienna's Porgy & Bess, a familiar place to Bruckmüller, as her ensemble served as the venue's stage band from 2015 to 2016.

This outlines the project's chronology, high-level motivations and a brief portrait of its principal protagonists. But what about the music? The proper approach would be to review it under standard parameters, analyzing each album in the order presented in its release. However, various factors suggest a less conventional strategy; given that the differences among the three recordings do not stem from a disparate quality of their thematic material or their performers (the members of the quintet and sextet are part of the big band), but rather from the different solos, arrangements and sound treatments structured and devised by Bruckmüller, maybe the best way to perceive—and comment on— these changes is through transversal listening, that is, grouping the three renditions of each movement while maintaining the order of the formations as they appear in the album. Dispensing with the disc as a reference point also provides a desirable argumentative continuity and aids the contextualization of each segment. In this regard, the titles are accompanied by a brief poem, kindly provided by the composer.

Movement I: East Of The West

"Drunken with love, a staggering play. Hearts set aflame, where longing holds sway."

The suite begins delicately, with the penetrating sound of strings suggesting a promising dawn before unveiling a motif with timeless resonances: it could be no other way, as this part is inspired by the Great American Songbook classic "East Of The Sun (West Of The Moon)." Suddenly, the lyricism is punctuated by an explicit blues, characterized by a strong piano ostinato and straightforward string quartet scoring. Ortiz begins in an orthodox fashion, but sporadic elements of dissonance emerge (the "intoxication of love," according to Bruckmüller), providing fresh harmonic perspectives on the theme. The pianist's solo explorations are wisely interspersed with unexpected rhythms and chords, taking him from Africanist modes reminiscent of McCoy Tyner to captivating territories far removed from his initial ideas. The string instruments return solemnly, skillfully repositioning the melody under a feeling of looming conflict, before approaching the main phrase again to conclude the track in a somewhat swooning manner.

The contrast with the second disc's version is notable, as it eliminates preambles: the tempo accelerates, enhancing the sensation of immediacy with the rapid onset of monologues that take prominence here, over textures and atmospheres. Viola Falb's alto intensifies as her discourse progresses, culminating in an interesting a cappella passage that evolves into a vibrant speculative dialogue with Ortiz. He then transitions into Cecil Taylor mode before interacting with the rest of the ensemble, which becomes entrenched in a somewhat unappealing repetition used as a crescendo under Howard Curtis' drum solo.

The vision presented on the third disc maximizes the main musical idea through the orchestral palette, maintaining minimal variations, but contributing an energetic parliament from Herwig Gradischnig's baritone, an excellent reedman featured on some key VAO albums. Ortiz shines again, venturing into realms of "free impressionism" that, even in its densest moments, cannot fail to be hypnotic. Following an attractive joint passage propelled by the winds, the crescendo during the drum solo reappears, producing effects similar to the sextet reading. This acts as a buoyant prologue, setting the stage for a deeper exploration into the central and most absorbing part of the suite, which will next connect its three finest compositions.

Movement II: Limited [But Sweet]

"The moment is fleeting, yet full of grace. A tender breath, a sweet embrace."

Mystery, hallucination, nocturnality: a pizzicato and the piano as a percussive instrument stealthily introduce this movement in its initial interpretation. Next, Ortiz outlines an inspired theme that could easily be attributed to the most sensitive Charles Mingus, while the string players radiate elegance in their accompaniment and underscoring. Writing and execution converge in one of their finest moments, imbued with the ephemeral intimacy Bruckmüller notes in her "marginal notes": it is the triumph of melody, devoted to love. The expanded quartet cultivates an energetic lyricism that does not require a conventional rhythmic pulse to persuade with its sweet firmness; Ortiz ultimately delivers another great monologue, with ethereal impressionistic brushstrokes that possess great plasticity.

The second rendition emphasizes the senza-tempo introduction and the initial dreamlike tone of the piece, featuring the piano in cryptic dialogue with Curtis' subtle drumming. The illusion fragments dissipate, giving way to a luminous happiness in which intriguing improvisations emerge: Thatiana Gomes seizes our attention with her aria on the double bass and her subsequent arco dialogue with Ortiz, underscoring a successful formula that recurs throughout the three discs, characterized by rich duets between the Cuban and other soloists.

The orchestral arrangement retains the atmospheric beginning of the sextet version, as well as its format, but a duo of faun flutes leads the entire formation toward the central passage. The ensemble seems to join in with certain parsimony, but when the whole orchestra unites to execute the radiant motif, the result is magnificent. Maria Salamon ignites the audience with a speech resonant of Hot Club de France sonorities, while Robert Bachner's trombone (another historical pillar of the VAO) conveys an imposing discourse, in form and substance. Gomes captivates once more, seemingly concluding the track over minimalist piano chords. However, the orchestra reemerges to deliver a well-crafted contrapuntal passage before reiterating the central idea and concluding with final bars that give a slightly disjointed impression.

Movement III: Matter Of Fact

"It's a matter of fact, unsettled and clear. The circumstances remain, the same old fate near."

Reality and routine, love and passion: two dimensions challenging to superimpose. The suite's third part delves into the feelings of weariness and sad defeat that often replace the heightened beginnings of a relationship. Bruckmüller makes a daring move here, as she introduces an obsessive riff, repeated multiple times, to convey the suffocating sensation against the stiffening emotional concrete: a certain degree of ugliness counterbalancing the grace presented thus far. Does she succeed in this? Absolutely, thanks to her talent for blending that heavy fragment with remarkable arrangements and orchestrations. The first rendition begins with the most outside string section moments, which adapt superbly to a stylistic territory that, at least for some of them, is not their own. Tango-like airs permeate the scene and disillusionment cries its wounds from Cornelia Burghart 's splendid cello. Ortiz strives to open new doors, but the strings, in unison, seem to confine him, forcing him back to the main sequence; ultimately, the Cuban concedes, diluting the piece under an unmistakable bluesy influence, both formal and conceptual.

The pianist alone begins the sextet version, dragging the monotonous phrase into harmonic realms that imbue it with unsuspected depth. The silhouette of Paul Bley emerges in the background, but it is his ex-wife Carla Bley who, when the rest of the rhythm section joins in, fragrances the space with her distinctive musical essence. Falb on alto and Mario Vavti on trombone adeptly maintain the prevailing atmosphere, but Ortiz sweeps the stage with an extraordinary solo that negotiates the recurrent melody from atonality.

In its third reading, the influence of Paul Bley continues to inspire Ortiz's initial reflections on the repeated central motif of the movement. Again, the pianist delivers a masterful lesson in imbuing a simple sequence of three notes with unexpected dimensions. The full band enters resolutely to expand the main theme in superb orchestration. Tobias M. Hoffmann on tenor saxophone and Kaya Meller on trumpet provide outstanding commentary, the latter with a language that bridges the considerable gap between Roy Eldridge and Dave Douglas. The piano and orchestra engage in determined dialogue, yielding magnificent instances of fruitful communion among strings, brass and reeds before gently concluding the take.

Movement IV: Rewind [& Play Again]

"If only one could rewind and relive the past, to act differently, and make it last."

The impossible rectification or how to embrace the sentimental decisions of the past: these are the driving ideas of the splendid fourth segment of the suite, perhaps its most successful part from all points of view. The first version combines Orientalist elements and European impressionism with lateral references to Duke Ellington's "In A Sentimental Mood." This is the most inspired, intriguing and least evident composition of the work, and once the string section recedes after revealing their delicate lines, Ortiz delivers a fascinating monologue in his exploration. When it seems farthest away, the cello emerges to accompany him back home, restoring the healing triumph of melancholy over anger.

A meditative aria by Vavti's trombone introduces the movement's second interpretation. The pianist offers introspective reflections over various formats that rapidly alternate—trio, sextet, individual performance—in what may be the most mainstream moments of the suite. Vavti reappears, and the winds create restorative harmonies, wielding beauty once again as an antidote to frustration.

The orchestral version retains the same opening as the quintet, with the addition of the aforementioned voicings, carefully balanced within the band. Ortiz insists on the subtle Ellington melodic references already quoted, while exploring other melodic and harmonic paths. The formation reinterprets the principal motif almost majestically, with an orchestration that transports us back to the best of VAO. Combining brevity with restraint, Bruckmüller and her talented musicians culminate in one of the deepest yet most elevated moments of her work.

Movement V: Conclusion

"Conclusion met, a chapter closed, separation on good terms, hearts composed."

The conclusion of the suite embodies what Wynton Marsalis termed "The Resolution Of Romance," here applied not only to the relationship itself, but also to the subsequent emotional consequences endured, now alone, by each of its members. The quintet begins attacking with moderate force a melody that seems familiar to us, despite our not having heard it previously. This is due to one of the musical mechanisms strategically employed by Bruckmüller: the use of elements (chords, fragments of melodies, rhythmic figures, etc.) that have appeared in prior compositions, providing continuity to her libretto's scenes. The earthly immediacy initially structures this final piece, presented in ways many listeners might think (if they have not experienced it before) reminiscent of various performances by the Kronos Quartet. Similarly, the subsequent violin solo by Joanna Lewis—a prominent figure in the Central European scene, also featured on some albums from VAO's final period—may evoke some of the most enigmatic passages from King Crimson's "Larks' Tongues In Aspic, Part One." Ortiz shifts from active accompaniment to a new improvisation, drawing colorful filigrees enhanced by the consistently intelligent string section. After a captivating collective passage, the track, and hence the first disc, concludes with a liberating chord that promises a future as open as it is hopeful.

Introduced by a tranquil drum solo, the sextet tackles the fragmented final theme with clear hard bop resonances, particularly reminiscent of Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. Meller's trumpet shines in another remarkable discourse, pairing Lee Morgan with Lester Bowie, while Ortiz showcases his most in-the-tradition side, unexpectedly counteracted by a striking free-like fragment from the entire ensemble. Guided by Gomes' double bass' almost cutting ostinato, the band returns to orthodoxy to close the suite with the aforementioned thrilling final chord.

Once again, the third version begins similarly to the first, with the strings establishing the emphatic motif. The band picks up the baton and introduces another extraordinary trumpet player, Austrian Simon Plötzeneder, who maintains the hard bop atmosphere with his magnificent tone, now flavored with gratifying traces of Woody Shaw. Ortiz, keeping with the prevailing vibe, exhibits mannerisms reminiscent of Cedar Walton and James Williams, both pianists who were part of various formations of the Messengers. Following a brief drum intervention by Curtis, the full band returns in one of the best passages orchestrated by Bruckmüller, leading one final time to the melody, with the string instruments guiding the ending resolution and its suggestive closure.

Epilog

This cut appears solely on the second disc, featuring Ortiz's piano without the rest of the sextet. As mentioned, the suite concludes with an encouraging chord, which conveys a benevolent sensation to the listener. Nonetheless, the Cuban terminal musings are imbued with a dark sense of drama that feels incongruous with the previous mood. In reality, and as Bruckmüller kindly notes, it is a dazzling improvisation by Ortiz on the previously mentioned "East Of The Sun," which, due to its lateral beauty, was decided to be included as an enigmatic signature rather than as a prelude to the first movement, as originally intended.

In any event, it frames our particular epilogue on this extensive work, finally from an album perspective, articulated as concisely as possible: The string quartet plus piano will pleasantly surprise those who may feel distanced from an excessively chamber-like type of jazz, both for its acute conception and sublime execution. The sextet offers a balanced yet unconventional interpretation of the suite, marked by exceptional individual interventions, although some tracks could benefit from shorter conclusions. Finally, the expanded orchestra, composed of extraordinary musicians, some of whom lead their own ensembles and big bands, unleashes the compositions' potential, delivering some of the best and most aurally rich moments of the album.

Ortiz and Bruckmüller deserve particular recognition. The former showcases a diverse, seemingly endless array of stylistic resources, both in his comping and impressive solos, transforming ideas that likely would not have acquired such depth without his presence. Certainly, it is hard to imagine this work without his skill and creativity, and while it may be easy to consider him its most resplendent star, it must be clear that without Bruckmüller's talent, sensitivity and tenacity to bring this initiative to a successful conclusion, none of the sounds brilliantly captured and mixed by Christoph Burgstaller for this phenomenal triple album would have been accessible to us: whether sequentially, transversally or randomly, listening to her sonic, formal and stylistic multiverse is a musical exercise highly recommended.

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