Stabat Akish - Stabat Akish (2009)

Casual listeners might easily conclude that the eponymous debut CD by French sextet Stabat Akish is a jazz album, although the brevity of most tracks, the relative absence of solos, and the compositional curve balls often suggest something else entirely. Certainly, the sound of a jazz sextet predominates, featuring saxophones, flute, vibraphone/bass marimba, electric keyboards, and drums -- all played by musicians who are well attuned to bandleader/acoustic bassist Maxime Delporte's often jazzy writing and who nicely complement the deep resonance of his instrument. And if you jump into the middle of "Lithops," the second part of the five-part "Brainstorm Suite," you'll find the jazz elements moving well past texture and timbre and into the jazz form itself, poised somewhere between modern and free. With Delporte pushing the band from a pulsing space drone to an uptempo swinging rhythm and back again, subtle cymbal work from drummer Stéphane Gratteau, and sax solos extending from boppish to Zorn-copping squeal territory, "Lithops" is creative jazz of the highest order.

But elsewhere, Stabat Akish can't be so easily categorized, and Delporte proves to be a trickster, often poised to throw something unexpected into your ears. The compositional switcheroos often suggest a film score, as, for example, a harmonized sax blast or a few seconds of cartoony keyboards interrupt a subdued lounge vibe a bit later in "Brainstorm Suite," during the section entitled "Quies." The popping and somewhat ersatz swing of "Jandri Express" gets a brief shot of the tropics from Guillaume Amiel's bass marimba, but then you half expect Stevie Wonder to start singing on this same track, shortly after the entry of Rémi Leclerc's funked-up clavinet (this Rémi Leclerc is not the drummer from Miriodor, by the way). Certainly the band's effortless sweep through diverse written interludes is responsible for much of the album's head-spinning befuddlements -- which also include the delicate and mysterious fairy-tale moods of "Lolen" permuting into "She's So Heavy"-style trudging, and effects-laden dub reggae (complete with sampled laughing and coughing) making an appearance during "Echinops," smack dab in the middle of that ever-confounding "Brainstorm Suite."

Yet much of Stabat Akish's disorienting appeal arises from its unique textural combinations, and the resultant feeling that this is "jazz" and "not jazz" at any given moment, even when the writing is at its most unified. Give Leclerc and his battery of vintage keyboards -- also including Fender Rhodes, mini-Moog, Hammond organ, and Yamaha CS-10 analog synth -- a lot of the credit for some throwback sounds that might even have you thinking (if you're old enough, that is), of Tim Blake's cosmic switch-doctoring in You-era Gong. In a similar vein, what sounds like sustained distortion on Amiel's vibes resonator is a very cool touch during "Vortex." Bernard Doumerc and Marc Maffiolo's saxophones often blurt down low in the tenor, baritone, and bass ranges, but at times (e.g., "93 Gouttes") are recorded in a way to suggest Ian McDonald/Mel Collins from early King Crimson circa "21st Century Schizoid Man"/"Pictures of a City." And with Doumerc on flute during the climax of the album-closing "Chroma," listeners of a certain age (ahem) might be reminded of McDonald & Giles nearly four decades in the distant past (although "Chroma" is far less grandiose). Still, despite all of this, Stabat Akish manage to sound utterly unique across the 15 concise and engaging tracks of the 40-minute CD. And depending on where you focus your attentions, Stabat Akish can seem like atmospheric film music, mind-altering prog -- or a mighty fine jazz record indeed. © Dave Lynch