专辑简介

Paul Wertico专辑介绍：by Thom JurekFor starters, drumming maestro Paul Wertico's StereoNucleosis, his fifth solo outing, is not a jazz record. OK, now that the jazz fascists...er, purists, have left the room, we can get on with talking about this patchwork quilt of sonic delights. Wertico has followed some interesting paths in his 30-plus-year career, from working with Pat Metheny and Larry Coryell to Kurt Elling, Terry Callier, and Jken Nordine. But nothing in his recorded past could have prepared listeners for this album. All the stops and boundaries blur before disappearing into the clear light of musical emptiness. And in that space where a whole slew of artificial categories existed is the abundance of music as a universe unto itself. Wertico's collaborators on this excursion into the heart of sonic inquiry are his partner, the composer and keyboardist Barbara, double bassist and trumpeter Eric Hochberg, guitarist John Moulder, and electric bassist, guitarist, and violinist Brian Peters. The album's opener, a solo percussion piece called "Corner Conversation," whispers into existence. Wertico dances on an array of small percussion instruments and drums for a little over a minute before huge-sounding choirs of hand drums and tom toms rain down like blessed-out thunder, offering that exuberance and abundance do indeed have a sound. And as it ends, a few small rhythms usher in the sheer magnificence of "We Needed the Rain," where fat basslines, electric guitars, trumpet, keyboard loops, and Wertico's kit entwine in a swirling, shimmering procession of near transcendent beauty. Some lazy fool will be tempted to call this groove jazz, and if it is, so be it -- bring on the grooves. This is the music Carlos Santana strives for at his best, and it is reminiscent in feeling of "Song of the Wind" from Caravanserai. John Moulder's guitar solo literally sky dances in the mix. "Desert Sky" gets to the same place, but it's more aggressive. Drums and keys shimmer before splitting open the mix, and once again the guitars scream with a very intense and focused lyricism. There are more free-form moments on the record as well, with the taut elliptical improvisation in "Somewhere in Between," where all instruments function as percussion, whispering and tentatively moving around in a nocturnal mix. "The Eleventh Hour" begins with a cacophony of feedback and dissonance before becoming a bluesy, funk groove. And in "You Can Get There From Here," African percussion cadences thrust into the open space of the mix to be colored by feedback and angular chords before giving way to the quiet, acoustic six-string opening of "What Would This World Be," full of ethereal progressions and languid tempos as it walks slowly into the warmth and intimacy of converging harmonics. One of the most compelling things on the set is "Almost Sixteen," a shambling blues tune done Delta drone style led by Hochberg's guttural bass and vocal moans striated by a terse yet infectious melody line from guitars and minimal keyboards and Wertico's trademark double-time shuffle.

In sum, the true measure of StereoNucleosis' wealth and importance is that there is nothing remotely like it in your record store -- and hopefully it is in your record store. Wertico and his players have done something wonderful and rare: they've actually created something not only different, but also truly new. In the words of Henry James, "the thing that cannot be repeated" is the true definition of art. StereoNucleosis certainly qualifies.