Two Duo Recordings Featuring Natsuki Tamura

Jazz Album Reviews: Two Duo Recordings Featuring the Sui Generis Trumpeter Natsuki Tamura

By Steve Feeney

It’s always fun to hear this mischievous instrumentalist in action.

Aloft Natsuki Tamura – trumpet, tiny cymbals, nut shaker; Satoko Fujii – piano (Libra Records)

NatJim Natsuki Tamura – trumpet; Jim Black – drums (Libra Records)

Sputters, snorts, wheezes, and growls have become trumpeter Natsuki Tamura’s (b. 1951) signature musical statement. But hang on: he can sometimes play a more or less straight trumpet, turning away from his surreal ventures into the realm of extended-technique-meets-silly-sounds. Give him a couple of duet partners and you never know what will happen. Well, maybe you have a clue if you’ve followed his career. Still, it’s fun to hear this mischievous instrumentalist in action.

Teetering at the top of a pile of recent discs by the ever-prolific Satoko Fujii (b. 1958)  — a musical collaborator as well as Tamura’s spouse — is the avian-themed Aloft. This duo release, made up of originals, was recorded in late 2023 in NYC. It continues the pair’s exploration of a sonic space where musical ideas shoot up from out of great depths to grab at you, sometimes affectionately, sometimes not.

Powerful images do come to mind when listening to this disc. Does Tamura see his task on trumpet (and various small percussion instruments) to be digging into the unconscious rough while Fujii smooths out the material with lyricism?  Maybe, on some tracks. But roles are reversed on selected cuts, the partners collaborating to create the kind of atmospheric naturalism suggested by the titles of Aloft‘s seven pieces.

“Migration” begins with somber rumbles from Fujii before Tamura adds long tones with edgy resonances. This lovely piece seems to suggest that natural beauty may be — because of global warming? — in a potentially perilous state. A repeated melodic figure heralds nobility — though it is nearly deconstructed.

Harsh winds blow through Tamura’s mouthpiece on “Wintering.” A chill descends that almost inspires a cry for help before Fujii comes in to visit even lonelier spaces. “On the Flyway” taps in a rhythmic vocal groove, as Tamura’s throaty emanations try to solidify into words.

The disc closes with “Waiting for Dawn,” a spooky piece in which Fujii reaches into her piano searching for new sounds while the trumpeter flies after the reassuring light of a better (?) day.

NatJim is the first duo recording between Tamura and legendary drummer Jim Black (b. 1967) in a quarter century. What’s surprising is that the album coheres in ways you might not expect from such renowned free players. The proceedings here are a little more open and less dramatic than Tamura’s sparring duos with Fujii. This set, recorded a month or so before Aloft, is made up of original compositions by Tamura (though there is more than a bit of free associating). In contrast to the environmental aura of the other album, the more effulgent NatJim makes subtle sonic references to urban settings.

“Morning City” evokes a celebratory dance between two players conversant in the ways each can make the other rise and shine. “Afternoon City” and “City of Dusk” continue the dialogue as the duo roll and tumble through passages that move from bright expressiveness to more complex and urgent avenues of concern.

“City of Night” conjures up considerable mystery, what with Tamura unleashing trumpet cries and yelps amid sharp eruptions of percussive fury. Tamura eventually goes full spook show, unleashing unhinged vocalizations while Black applies his hands to the drums. This is not a city for the squeamish.

“Calm City” does not live up to its title, given its eerie rattlings and somber thematic lines.  “Bright City” gives Tamura an opportunity to indulge in some highly emotive vocal exhortations.

Given its expansive mix of mordant intensity and joyful music — plus the relative rarity of the pairing —  the competitive nod goes to NatJim. But it wins a close race with Aloft for a high spot in the distinctive discography of the sui generis Natsuki Tamura.

from https://artsfuse.org