Critic's Review
Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
The "Treasure Box" is as much an art artifact as it is an exemplary document of Alan Silva's consummate skill as a composer, big band leader, arranger, and improviser. Presented as two individually hand-painted fold out 12" x 12" panels (no two are alike) with a pair of CDs in either side, the visual presentation, stunning as it is, only hints at what beauty and innovation lie in digital code on the discs themselves.
These CDs document two different performances of the "Celestial Communication Orchestra" recorded live at the Uncool Festival in Switzerland. For the first time in his career, Silva was allowed to choose his own cast of musicians without regard for cost or distance of travel. And the cast he assembled was not only impressive, it was unthinkably complex and included, among others, Silva, Ijeoma Thomas, Roy Campbell, Baikida Carroll, Joseph Bowie, Johannes Bauer, Marshall Allen, Sabir Mateen, Francis Wong, Daniel Carter, Karen Borca, Wilbur Morris, William Parker, Warren Smith, Jackson Krall, and Bobby Few.
Compositions performed on the 24th of May were "Amplitude," (in four movements), "HR 57" in two parts, and "What Is Your Name?" The performance on the 24th is particularly notable because of the nearly unbearable length of "Amplitude." It's not unbearable because it's drawn out or indulgent or overly ornate, but because of its nearly frightening power and beauty. Soloists enter and leave the ghostly composition by hidden doors, following one another down strange intervalic paths and knotty harmonic corridors of sonic architectures and carefully crafted textures by Silva on his synthesizer. On "Amplitude," and then again dovetailed on "HR57," aural divisions and arbitrary categories implode and then dissolve. Jazz and classical, musically tempered, and free improvisation become part of something much larger, something sublimely connected to a force outside itself, and perhaps even outside the realm of music. The performance is so tightly focused on Silva's direction and vision that all individual identities cease to exist. And this is a compliment because only players of this caliber could join themselves to a project like this in order to accomplish the goal of erecting this sonic architecture out of thin air.
The performance of the 27th, while not so transcendentally beautiful, is knottier, the dialogue more aggressive and multi-lingual. "Amplitude" again opens the set, but as only a two-movement piece instead of four, and "HRS 57" has a third movement added to it. "What is Your Name?" and "Soon" round out the set. Here, "Amplitude" seems like a peremptory exercise in order to get to "HRS 57." The prologue notion serves as a backdrop of particular soloists to refract the harmonics of the composition into smaller units to extrapolate on into the harmonic considerations of "HRS 57." As the newly entered third movement begins to wind itself up, soloists and line players becomes threads; inseparable from the tonal clusters created by Silva, even as they execute and change them. While the sheer power and intensity is not so readily apparent here, it is replaced by a much more swinging sensibility with interplay happening simultaneously between entire groups of musicians. Tine final two compositions offer a breezier exit than one could have even thought possible, leaving the listener quite stunned by what has taken place. This set, limited to 383 copies, is worth its weight in gold and should be referred to continually in the jazz canon for its revelatory control and exploration.
These CDs document two different performances of the "Celestial Communication Orchestra" recorded live at the Uncool Festival in Switzerland. For the first time in his career, Silva was allowed to choose his own cast of musicians without regard for cost or distance of travel. And the cast he assembled was not only impressive, it was unthinkably complex and included, among others, Silva, Ijeoma Thomas, Roy Campbell, Baikida Carroll, Joseph Bowie, Johannes Bauer, Marshall Allen, Sabir Mateen, Francis Wong, Daniel Carter, Karen Borca, Wilbur Morris, William Parker, Warren Smith, Jackson Krall, and Bobby Few.
Compositions performed on the 24th of May were "Amplitude," (in four movements), "HR 57" in two parts, and "What Is Your Name?" The performance on the 24th is particularly notable because of the nearly unbearable length of "Amplitude." It's not unbearable because it's drawn out or indulgent or overly ornate, but because of its nearly frightening power and beauty. Soloists enter and leave the ghostly composition by hidden doors, following one another down strange intervalic paths and knotty harmonic corridors of sonic architectures and carefully crafted textures by Silva on his synthesizer. On "Amplitude," and then again dovetailed on "HR57," aural divisions and arbitrary categories implode and then dissolve. Jazz and classical, musically tempered, and free improvisation become part of something much larger, something sublimely connected to a force outside itself, and perhaps even outside the realm of music. The performance is so tightly focused on Silva's direction and vision that all individual identities cease to exist. And this is a compliment because only players of this caliber could join themselves to a project like this in order to accomplish the goal of erecting this sonic architecture out of thin air.
The performance of the 27th, while not so transcendentally beautiful, is knottier, the dialogue more aggressive and multi-lingual. "Amplitude" again opens the set, but as only a two-movement piece instead of four, and "HRS 57" has a third movement added to it. "What is Your Name?" and "Soon" round out the set. Here, "Amplitude" seems like a peremptory exercise in order to get to "HRS 57." The prologue notion serves as a backdrop of particular soloists to refract the harmonics of the composition into smaller units to extrapolate on into the harmonic considerations of "HRS 57." As the newly entered third movement begins to wind itself up, soloists and line players becomes threads; inseparable from the tonal clusters created by Silva, even as they execute and change them. While the sheer power and intensity is not so readily apparent here, it is replaced by a much more swinging sensibility with interplay happening simultaneously between entire groups of musicians. Tine final two compositions offer a breezier exit than one could have even thought possible, leaving the listener quite stunned by what has taken place. This set, limited to 383 copies, is worth its weight in gold and should be referred to continually in the jazz canon for its revelatory control and exploration.
