Roscoe Mitchell & Note Factory - Far Side (2010, ECM)

In trombonist/composer/critic George Lewis’ recent book about the AACM, he makes a serious, thoroughly researched argument for its members creating their own lineage of American “experimental music,” influenced as much by pan-African musics or juke joint jam sessions as by European high art music, but beholden to none of those idioms.  In fact, most of the discussion centers around the ways AACM music moved beyond traditional categories and binaries, and how it has suffered in its subsequent appreciation because of that.  The usual lines between composition and improvisation, creator and consumer, teacher and student, or even manager/producer/club owner/distributor and artist were consistently, deliberately blurred in the early decades of the movement.  As a result, as a critic or historian, it is difficult to even know how to talk about this stuff, to put it in its proper context, to appreciate it for what it is, rather than how it doesn’t resemble “jazz” or “classical” or “world music.”  Roscoe Mitchell was there at the beginning, and has been as subject to that confusion as any of his cohorts.

Which is why it’s nice to know that no matter how maligned or forgotten his legacy, he is still out there producing work full of surprise and serious intent.  Over 40 years after his seminal “Roscoe Mitchell Art Ensemble” recordings (which are well worth the $89.99 price tag currently available through Amazon), he brings us this continuation in his recent series of medium-sized ensemble recordings, including Nine to Get Ready or Song for my Sister.  He doesn’t release recordings too often, either, so each should be treated like something of an event.  Also impressive is his tendency, even at an advanced age, to continue challenging himself with other fantastic musicians, whether Muhal Abrams and George Lewis on 2006’s Streaming, or young luminaries like those found here: Vijay Iyer, Craig Taborn or Corey Wilkes.

And so we have a long, demanding hour of listening included here, the type of work that brings its greatest rewards through close attention.  That’s not to say it’s quiet or subdued - the last half of the 30-minute opener, is rambunctious, wily and wild - but that it focuses primarily on momentum through interaction, sectional motifs rising and falling in an evolutionary way.  Without an attentive ear, many of the most interesting developments will be difficult to contextualize within the overall structure that give them their sense of surprise, summation or heft.

So maybe we can leave it at that: this is fine American experimental music, a mature master of group dynamic leaving yet another testament to his consistency of purpose over the years.  If you like Mitchell’s music, then you know more or less what to expect here, and it delivers in that everyone within the group is on their knottiest, most demanding behavior.  If you are not familiar, this is as good a place as any to start: a group of young, energetic collaborators raised in an experimental sound-world Mitchell helped create, recorded in crystal-clear sound, and then divided into four easy to digest tracks.