On Speak, Moment, the first album on which Dave Harrington, Max Jaffe, and Patrick Shiroishi appear as a trio, the musicians sound as though they’ve been playing together for years. Perhaps it’s not surprising, each of the players comes by their confidence as improvisers after years of performing and collaborating, but it’s a testament to their prowess that the recordings on this album were all made over the course of the first day of the group’s collaboration.
The progression of the album serves as a documentation, of sorts, of the process of improvisation itself. On album opener “Staring into the Imagination,” the trio begin hesitantly: Jaffe lightly brushing cymbals, Shiroishi blowing delicate notes on the saxophone, and Harrington just barely plucking strings on the guitar.
There is an almost imperceptible (read: natural) increase in volume as each instrument seems to gain confidence and take up more space over the course of the track. Shiroishi’s melody remains lovely and gentle throughout while the guitar and percussion hesitantly but deftly carve out a soft backdrop for his noodling. Again, almost imperceptibly, his saxophone fades into the background and Harrington’s guitar, although still sounding distant, comes to the fore, only to fade away just as Shiroishi’s playing crescendos. The whole thing sounds like feeling one’s way through new territory, albeit confidently; everyone knows exactly when to come and go.
The low growls and sustained playing of Harrington on electric guitar open the second track, “How to Draw Buildings.” He is accompanied by a variety of other sounds— the shaking of what sounds like a tambourine, some breathy electronics, an occasional muted drum roll. Harrington’s riffing builds in volume and intensity as Jaffe’s percussion sounds like it’s trying to keep up with the pace and noise of the guitar’s psychedelic groove. Only Shiroishi knows why he picked the moment that he did to jump in, at the peak of the crescendo, his horn soaring above the other instruments.
By track three, “Dance of the White Shadow and Golden Kite,” the trio have finally locked in, launching immediately into a groove. Driving, danceable percussion; circular, repetitive saxophone melodies; and playful, liquidy electronics produce a rich interplay of sound. It’s a commanding middle of the record.
On “Ship Rock” the control is let go and the three launch into a frantic, frenzied mode. Bleating sax, effects drenched guitar, driving drumbeat, all accompanied by an occasional whir or echo of electronics. It’s joyful and ragged, hypnotic in its intensity.
On album closer, “Return in 100 Years, The Colors Will Be At Their Peak,” Harrington’s guitar gets even more space. My only complaint about Speak, Moment is that I want more of it, perhaps because it is so lovely and loose as this final track begins. Its rich, raw distortion introduces a new sonic texture and potential direction for the trio’s playing just as the session is drawing to a close. Shiroishi joins in and the guitar gets more ragged and resonant, so does the percussion. It’s a lovely conversation. If one wanted to continue to trace the path of improvisation, we have reached the point at which melancholy meets euphoria; the moment at which they’re aware they’re at their best just as they know they’ve reached the end.
Describing something as listenable isn’t always taken as a compliment but I mean it as one here. Speak, Moment is eminently, fascinatingly listenable, as much acid jazz as psychedelic rock, as much a demonstration of prowess as it is the overhearing of a conversation. Speak, Moment is an apt title, a seeming reference to Vladimir Nabokov’s autobiography Speak, Memory, it’s a play with words that acknowledges the act of giving over oneself and one’s playing to another power, in this case, the power of collective listening and response. (Jennifer Smart)
a closer listen 