Blending Big Band, Neo-Classical, 3rd Stream, Serialist, New Orleans funeral march, Oriental and other highly experimental flavors, Conductor/trumpeter Mark Harvey and the revolving 29 piece Aardvark Jazz Orchestra (members have worked with Cecil Taylor, Anthony Braxton and too many others to list) fills in the blanks with extended techniques and wild ideas, exploiting the trumpet to its fullest extreme, yet somehow remaining completely faithful to each piece's set theme. That is, although the group show off their
beyond-impressive virtuosic chops, the focus is on the bigger picture, completing the form and delivering a message rather than simply giving a master class.
"Flexology" begins with a whirl of "tuning up" antics, then shifts effortlessly to "Bitches Brew" territory, with murky bass and guitar and hyperactive drums pushing underneath solo trumpet squeals and sputters. The band joins in with tense wind and horn swells, then boils and releases the steam in the form of a squeak mouse orchestra. "JB's Dreamtime" is chaos on wax -- breathy flute, rhythmic key clacking (saxes, horns, everybody) and everyone seemingly stumbling around in the dark. At the mid-point, a series of quacking explosions fling us into a breakneck swing. Arthritis-inducing bass and drum patterns serve as the spine for a flabby frame of independence, though the piece gradually subsides, reprising the piece's opening sequence at a slightly more vigorous tempo.
The title track isn't merely a cute description -- it really is "Trumpet Madness"! Though the previous pieces explored some of the instrument's capabilities, everything comes to a head here in an arrangement of tones, blasts and mythical sounds, rarely heard with or without digital editing. Sputters, near-sine wave sustains, throat tones, mouth-piece spits, war cries, sloppy flutters and all manner of timbres propel the piece into another universe -- one where harmony and rhythm are dry-humped, then flipped on their sides for further molesting. Perhaps the most startling moment is the quasi-harmonica and metal scraping that takes you to a rattling porch on the lone prairie, or maybe the bubbling gurgles that resemble white noise stands out most, or maybe... you get the idea.
The seventeen-minute "Spirals" is the album's most foreign, "out-there" and elegant section. Percussionist Paul Lovens takes the spotlight, banging gongs, swirling chimes and orchestrating gigantic crashes that smack of Samurai fights, bulls in china shops and meditative mornings in Chinese castles. Trumpeter Raj Mehta floods the mix with his self-designed "hybrid-trumpet", an instrument that allows him the flexibility of spoken vocal inflections, didgeridoo style performances and all manner of un-classified skills, which he pulls out just when you think you've guessed his last trick. The liner notes advise, "If you can't identify a particular sound, it's most likely the hybrid-trumpet." Guitarist Richard Nelson pulls out a delay pedal to lay down sci-fi textures to match Mehta's screaming Martian frequencies, while the rest of the group merely observes for the majority of the work.
Trumpet Madness is simply too musically perverse to reveal obvious "weak" spots -- moments of repose merely serve as a welcome rest before you're overcome with a storm of something twice as interesting as whatever you heard before. In other words, as soon as you feel bored, the band somehow reads your mind and steps up their game. The only problem here is a discrepancy in the album's title -- it should read Trumpet Bliss, not Trumpet Madness.
