Every time guitarist Joe Morris comes to Chicago, which isn’t often enough, listeners tend to discover remarkable new facets of his art.
If at first they’re struck by his fleet virtuosity, they eventually discover the range of colors and textures that are at Morris’ fingertips. If they’re already familiar with the man’s extraordinary digital control, they soon come to savor the structural lucidity of Morris’ improvisations.
As Thursday night turned into early Friday morning, Morris again mesmerized his Chicago followers with a wholly radical yet thoroughly seductive approach to avant-garde jazz. For this listener, Morris’ quartet show at the Empty Bottle — the Wicker Park club that has been his venue of choice in Chicago — revealed a deeply emotional undertow in a music that typically tends to draw attention to its surface beauty.
Listen beyond the rapid-fire staccato notes and hushed dynamics that are Morris’ stock in trade and you’ll realize that the man often takes time to turn a lyric phrase or two. Even the occasional lone pitch that he stretches for a beat or two, or the barest hint of vibrato he’ll lavish on a single pianissimo note suggest that Morris’ music contains a fervency of expression that may be lost on those who don’t listen carefully for it.
Combine this deep-seated musicality with a technique that is as original as it is persuasive, and you have one of the more important improvisers of this still young century. For if the listening public tends to associate avant-garde jazz with unbridled dissonance and angry iconoclasm, Morris offers a valuable alternative.
His work, and that of the quartet he led at the Empty Bottle, affirms that new music can be austerely beautiful without sacrificing complexity or dissonance, that freewheeling improvisation can be subtle and muted without losing its edge.
The sheer profusion of notes that Morris jammed into every solo — and the unusual intervals and scales that he juggled throughout–attested to the musical sophistication of his guitar work.
Yet Morris articulated this avalanche of sound in the softest shades imaginable, forcing listeners to scale down any expectations for high-decibel dynamics. Thus whenever Morris shifted from a whispering pianissimo to a slightly louder mezzo-piano, he nearly seemed to be thundering.
His quartet — the same as on his alluring “Many Rings” CD (on Knitting Factory Records) — essentially represents an extension of his guitar playing: Bassoon, alto saxophone and electronic sampler produce an ensemble sound that shimmers exquisitely as it segues from one subtle musical climax to the next.
Bassoonist Karen Borca, altoist Rob Brown and sampler player Andrea Parkins sounded wholly in tune with Morris’ aesthetic, building on the sound of his guitar without overwhelming it.
Ultimately, Morris already has achieved a great deal in finding new ways to extend the sonic possibilities of the guitar and the expressive range of the jazz avant-garde. It seems likely that enterprising soloists and bandleaders will be building on his innovations in years to come.
Or at least they ought to be.
