Trish Clowes

My Iris

Basho

THERE is possibly an underlying justification in saxophonist Trish Clowes being a BASCA award winner. BASCA is the British Academy of Songwriters, Composers and Authors and Clowes is all of these things on this album, recorded with three outstandingly sympathetic musicians.

Storyteller might be more apt than author, as each piece has a narrative behind it, and there’s certainly a songlike quality to much of Clowes’ writing, which in the case of Tap Dance (For Baby Dodds) couches a serious point about the Atlantic slave trade in an addictive groove.

As both a composer and an improviser Clowes has a lovely melodic turn of phrase, especially on soprano where she sounds a little like Wayne Shorter at times. As well as being happy to become part of a sometimes knotty rhythm section, she gives her musicians, especially the wonderful Ross Stanley (on piano and organ), plenty of room in which to express themselves.

Chris Montague’s guitar stings and rumbles admirably and James Maddren drums with his customary thoughtful assertiveness as the quartet collectively probes pieces that incorporate space, momentum, proggy riffing and the quietly affecting atmosphere of guest singer-composer Cevanne Horrocks-Hopayian’s Muted Lines with consistently fascinating results.

Rob Adams