About this Album — QUIET EARTH

REVIEW by Mark Cor­ro­to, All About Jazz
Anyo­ne fami­li­ar with Tibe­tan Bud­dhism will know that once their spi­ri­tu­al lea­der or Dalai Lama dies, offi­cials set off in search of his rein­car­na­ti­on, inter­viewing and exami­ning poten­ti­al pos­tu­lants. Lis­tening to Quiet Earth by Aus­tri­an saxo­pho­nist Muri­el Gross­mann one can­not help but ask if she might be the rein­car­na­ti­on or ava­tar of the late John Col­tra­ne. Cer­tain­ly that is one hea­vy label to place upon Gross­mann but, a few minu­tes into the ope­ner “Wien,” and the­re is litt­le doubt this artist has the pro­per bona fides. The com­po­si­ti­on car­ri­es that A Love Supre­me (Impul­se!, 1965) vibe with a rever­ence for the ethe­re­al. She is backed by her long­time col­la­bo­ra­tors, gui­ta­rist Rado­mir Milo­j­ko­vic, bas­sist Gina Schwarz, and drum­mer Uros Sta­men­ko­vic, plus orga­nist Llo­renc Bar­ce­lo who came aboard for the pre­vious release Rever­ence (2019). Both record­ings are avail­ab­le as CDs from Dream­land­re­cords or as 200 gram LPs from RR GEMS. “Wien” does­n’t par­rot that Col­tra­ne mas­ter­pie­ce, it expands upon the con­cept with Barceló’s organ poin­ting towards the spi­ri­tu­al jazz of Lar­ry Young, and Milojkovic’s gui­tar chewing on some Del­ta blues.

Like every suc­ces­si­on of the Dalai Lama, Grossmann’s music car­ri­es not just the pre­vious incar­na­ti­on but also its lineage. “Afri­can Call” tra­vels back to the roots of jazz to its mother­land, Sta­men­ko­vic and Schwarz lay­ing down the rhyth­ms that fuel­led the birth of blues, jazz, and rock. If one need more pro­of of Grossmann’s incar­na­ti­on, “Peace­ful River” first finds her on sopra­no befo­re swap­ping to tenor saxo­pho­ne, as its Gos­pel blues expands into a kind of awa­ke­ned devo­tio­nal music whe­re Sta­men­ko­vic works his ride cym­bal very much in the man­ner of Elvin Jones. The tit­le track opens with Gross­mann drawing first from Ornet­te Cole­man’s sound befo­re retur­ning to the Col­tra­ne spi­rit with her sopra­no saxo­pho­ne. Her quar­tet blossoms with sleek solos by Milo­j­ko­vic and Bar­celó befo­re a brief saxo­pho­ne, bass and drums impro­vi­sa­ti­on acts as a kind of com­ing attrac­tions pre­view. Mark Cor­ro­to, All About Jazz

REVIEW by Ian Ward in UK VIBE, England 
Let’s start by giving cor­rect love to Tallinn’s RR GEMS Records. They pal­p­a­bly care, don’t they? That care is as clear­ly felt in their musi­cal choices (Brah­ja and Soft Power are just two of their phe­no­me­nal artists) as it is in the design and finish of their pro­duct, as it is in their play­ful, com­mu­ni­ca­ti­ve cus­to­mer rela­ti­ons (see social media). Long may they con­ti­nue to fos­ter my good­will towards them and, by my simp­le-brai­ned asso­cia­ti­on, to their beau­ti­ful city…hopefully sof­tening my memo­ries of a green-gil­led fer­ry from Hel­sin­ki and a nas­ty beefsteak.

Quiet Earth” is their new offe­ring by the much-loved, Ibi­za-based, Aus­tri­an saxo­pho­nist, Muri­el Gross­man, and her quin­tet con­sis­ting of Rado­mir Milo­j­ko­vic on gui­tar, Llo­renç Bar­celó on organ, Gina Schwarz on bass and Uros Sta­men­ko­vic on drums. It’s the same lin­eup from last year’s “Rever­ence” album and the core of her pre­vious record­ings. Not sure Gross­man needs any intro­duc­tion to UK Vibers, her con­tem­pora­ry take on the modal spi­ri­tu­al jazz of the mas­ters is well docu­men­ted and uni­ver­sal­ly admired.

The ope­ner, “Wien”, was first visi­ted on “Awa­ke­n­ing” but this ver­si­on is nota­b­ly ful­ler and richer. It’s a deep clean­se; a soot­hing irri­ga­ti­on that requi­res a soli­ta­ry moment of empty-hea­ded, open-hear­ted con­tem­pla­ti­on. Milo­j­ko­vic and Schwarz crea­te a posi­ti­ve path, Bar­celó warm­ly pul­ses, Sta­men­ko­vic was­hes and Gross­mann offers up a fee­ling, asking you to per­so­na­li­se that fee­ling and ascen­dant­ly medi­ta­te upon it. Unex­pec­ted­ly, suc­cess­ful­ly, Milo­j­ko­vic gets the sli­de out and deli­vers a psych blues solo as per late 60’s gen­re-cros­sing, expe­ri­men­ta­ti­on. Bar­celó pati­ent­ly expands upon the idea befo­re a break­down that makes way for Grossmann’s reso­lu­ti­on. “Wien” is a spi­ri­tual­ly seam­less 11 minu­tes – awa­re and pur­po­se­ful, not gli­b­ly happy-clappy.

Afri­can Call” has that titu­lar mobi­li­ty, tho­se dan­cing pat­terns. It’s a sum­mons, an invi­te to enga­ge, both rhyth­mi­cal­ly and soul­ful­ly. Milo­j­ko­vic and Schwarz hold it down tight but free, Stamenkovic’s cym­bals busy it along and Grossmann’s jubi­lant motif calls its call. Milo­j­ko­vic, Bar­celó and Gross­mann each take an indi­vi­du­al solo, collec­tively com­mu­ni­ca­ting the sin­gle exu­berant plea.

The ope­ning two minu­tes of divi­ne air and unspo­ken rhyth­ms that intro­du­ce “Peace­ful River” are gor­ge­ous; akin to the feels of San­ders on “Ele­va­ti­on”, a lite­ral Ack­now­led­ge­ment of the river’s peace­ful­ness. Overt rhyth­ms of the river’s gent­le ebb and flow then appe­ar; becal­ming and reques­ting that we accept, and exalt, our ine­vi­ta­ble oneness with natu­re. Ethereal.

Quiet Earth” is initi­al­ly more open, free-er. It jumps into a groo­ve, much less free, much more urgent; there’s a funk to it. Stamenkovic’s cym­bals cool­ly roll, his bass drum and Schwarz’s bass both just under the beat, pro­pel­ling. While Gross­mann speaks with expli­cit con­cern, a pain and Bar­celó cas­ts evo­ca­ti­ve shade. As is the now-estab­lis­hed for­mu­la Milo­j­ko­vic and Bar­celó take orde­red solos. Milo­j­ko­vic clean, flat, phat picking; appro­pria­te. Bar­celó jabs, shuf­fles, rope-a-dopes. The final minu­te and a half are free-er again, still tur­bu­lent but offe­ring a glim­pse of hope.

This album takes us on a wish­ful, search-for-mea­ning, jour­ney. It does have that at-oneness we’d natu­ral­ly expect from music crea­ted in the spi­ri­tu­al sanc­tua­ry of Ibi­za; a medi­ta­ti­ve sin­gle-voice spi­ri­tua­li­ty that evo­kes hope and posi­ti­ve ener­gies and allows tho­se of us for­tu­n­a­te enough to be able to con­nect with it, to feel healing, growth, and uplift. But the­re is also some­thing more deman­ding, some­thing that requi­res our (may­be illu­si­ve) oneness in order to respond to it; a request that we be awa­re, that we look for posi­ti­ve trans­for­ma­ti­on, that we look to collec­tively heal our­sel­ves and our environment.

Muri­el is hope­ful that we can achie­ve this: “I pray for all of us to live a hap­py, healt­hy, mea­ning­ful and uni­fy­ing life, with respon­si­ble inten­ti­ons for our and future generations…May our music ser­ve you on your essen­ti­al jour­ney.” Apt besee­ching, as we lea­ve 2020 and enter into who-knows-what 2021.

And, final­ly, a Yuleti­de Gree­tings to you all! Bring it, 2021. Ian Ward


REVIEW in DUSTY GROOVE, CHICAGO
There’s not­hing quiet about the way that Muri­el Gross­man approa­ches her music – as the saxo­pho­nist is one of the bol­dest, stron­gest voices in jazz in the past deca­de – one of the key pro­pon­ents of the new spi­ri­tu­al under­ground, and a play­er who just seems to win us over more and more with each new record! This album’s got the ama­zing rhyth­mic pul­se of Grossman’s pre­vious records, but also shifts the sound slight­ly too – as in addi­ti­on to the fan­tastic use of gui­tar by Rado­mir Milo­j­ko­vic, the set also fea­tures the­se stron­gly swir­ling organ lines from Llo­renc Bar­ce­lo – in a way that makes us ima­gi­ne what it might sound like if we ever got to hear tho­se lost jam ses­si­ons bet­ween John Col­tra­ne and Lar­ry Young! Gross­man blows tenor, alto, and sopra­no sax here, with a rich sen­se of ima­gi­na­ti­on throughout – and the rest of the group fea­tures Gina Schwarz on bass and Uros Sta­men­ko­vic on drums – on long tit­les that inclu­de “Wien”, “Afri­can Call”, “Quiet Earth”, and “Peace­ful River”. Dus­ty Groo­ve, Chicago

 

REVIEW in JAZZ QUAD, 11/29/2020, Bela­rus by Leo­nid Auskern

Muri­el Gross­mann — Quiet Earth 

Quiet Earth, the new album of the Aus­tri­an saxo­pho­nist Muri­el Gross­mann living in Spain, has been re-released by the Esto­ni­an label RR GEMS Records as Vinyl. Like the pre­vious album ‘Rever­ence’, Muri­el recor­ded it on her Ibi­za island in the quin­tet for­mat. Mal­lorcan orga­nist Llo­renç Bar­celó seems to have beco­me a per­ma­nent mem­ber of the team with which Muri­el Gross­mann has been working tog­e­ther for many years.

In her own hand­writ­ten liner notes, Muri­el speaks of the deep imper­fec­tions of our world, which make many feel hel­pless. She claims that ever­yo­ne should look for strength and posi­ti­ve ener­gy for chan­ge in them­sel­ves, and her music should help lis­teners to find hope and that very posi­ti­ve energy.

Well, for me per­so­nal­ly, Muri­el Grossmann’s music always evo­kes the most posi­ti­ve emo­ti­ons. Quiet Earth, small in volu­me, was no excep­ti­on. The album inclu­des only four com­po­si­ti­ons by Muri­el. In the ope­ning song WIEN, the only thing that can be cal­led clas­si­cal (in a jazz sen­se) is the con­struc­tion of the com­po­si­ti­on, whe­re, after a saxo­pho­ne solo, Milojkovic’s gui­tar, then Barcelo’s organ, and final­ly Grossmann’s saxo­pho­ne again come to the fore­ground. But jud­ging by the music, Muriel’s memo­ries of the capi­tal of her nati­ve Aus­tria are clo­ser to the archi­tec­tu­re of Hun­dert­was­ser and Haneke’s films than to the idyl­lic land­s­capes of impe­ri­al Vien­na during the time of Franz Joseph.

The com­po­si­ti­on AFRICAN CALL with the accen­tua­ted work of the rhythm group and bright saxo­pho­ne colours loo­ks like an echo of Afri­can moti­ves that occu­p­ied the main place in the pre­vious album ‘Rever­ence’. The impres­si­on that the­re was sim­ply no place for Afri­can Call in that album, but here “Afri­ca” works well in con­trast to the Euro­pean “Vien­na”. As for the second half of the album, the pie­ces by PEACEFUL RIVER and the tit­le pie­ce QUIET EARTH, seem to be the ones who embo­dy Muri­el Grossmann’s dreams of how our pla­net should look like.

What can a musi­ci­an do for this? To com­po­se music and put into the per­for­mance so much expres­si­on and talent that the lis­tener feels and remem­bers this pas­sio­na­te mes­sa­ge without words from the gre­at mas­ter of modern jazz, Muri­el Grossmann.
Leo­nid Auskern

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