This set is
Koglmann in miniature. Leaving the compositions for his gargantuan yet soulfully swinging and improvising machine the Pipetet behind,
Koglmann functions in two much smaller settings here: as part of a quartet, and in duet with
Misha Mengelberg. The quartet showcases the talents of
Tony Coe on tenor and clarinet,
Burkhard Stangl on guitar, and the great Klaus Koch on bass alongside
Koglmann's trumpet and flügelhorn. This intimacy, this quiet brilliance and restraint that
Koglmann shows here on his works -- some of which (the title cut and "Slow Fox") were initially written for and performed by the Pipetet -- is a statement not only of how versed the man is in the traditions of jazz and classical music but just how aware he is of his own mates' musical strengths. His rearrangement of standards such as "My Old Flame," "Moon Dreams," "Night and Day," and others reveals his willingness to find new colors in the standards by allowing
Coe, himself, and particularly
Stangl and
Mengelberg (who turns "My Old Flame" inside out harmonically) liberties with pitch, timbre, rhythm, and even harmony in order to get at a particular selection's essence and bring it into the daylight. There is great -- though very warm -- humor in
Koglmann's interpretations as well; he finds the odd musical phrase, highlights it, bends it, and then turns it back on itself much as
Alfred Hitchcock would cameo in each of his films.
Koglmann brings his austere Second Viennese School upbringing to bear in the larger group; here, even his own works -- as angular as they can appear to be -- are firmly in jazz territory. How much of this is shaped by his collaborators is arguable. But where these edges show themselves on "For Bix" and "Leopard Lady," they are quickly subsumed by the ambience created by the various musical structures and the melodic framework created around them. The crowning moment of the entire album is on
Ellington's "Black Beauty," where you would swear
Coe and
Stangl were
Paul Gonsalves and
Barney Bigard. The easy swing of a piece, which was written for a group much larger than this, is painterly, tender, full of warmth, and even a knowing laughter. Why he included his own "Nachts" to close the CD is a mystery, given that it is the only brooding piece on the record, but it is terribly beautiful nonetheless.
Mengelberg's large chords in the lower register give the intro a noirish quality before
Koglmann's melodic, mournful flügelhorn slips underneath the piano to remind both of them this is a "song" they're playing.
Mengelberg's insistence on improvising through the line is brilliant but maddening -- but isn't he always? It's a strange close to a phenomenal, truly gorgeous record by one of the most mysterious and brilliant minds in creative music. ~ Thom Jurek