At The Reception

Wayne Horvitz has shown himself, as keyboardist-pianist and composer, one of the most versatile jazzmen active today. His avant electric funk has been innovative and important part of his style. But equally so his acoustic music. We get a very impressive example of the latter with his big band, known as the Royal Room Collective Music Ensemble, and their album At the Reception (Song Lines 1609-2). It's a game gathering of good players on the Seattle scene, some 14 of them that include worthy solo talent. They are well-rehearsed and very capable. But the compositions and arrangements by Horvitz are the main attraction. They run the gamut of styles from in-the-pocket swingers to post-Evans tone poems to adventurous avant fare. There is even something that sounds either like a Jewish or Italian (or both) folk dance, which has a sense of humor. There is a great deal of good music here, 74 minutes worth. Absorbing it takes some time. Once you do you go away from this with a real appreciation of Horvitz's great skill and talent. This is big band music that does not sound quite like anything else. New music, truly. The truth is in the telling, so I strongly suggest you get this one and listen closely. It is a triumph!

Fantastic set from Horvitz’s expanded ensemble, the Royal Room Collective Music Ensemble, performing Horvitz compositions that are re-arranged on the fly... a sort of improvisation by Madlib approach, where anything goes within a loose, but sturdy structure. Horvitz classics like “A Walk in the Rain,” “Sweeter Than the Day,” and “Prepaid Funeral” retain his curious songwriting style while allowing a traditional big band sound to bloom from its seed. The impact Horvitz has had on the Pacific-Northwest scene since his move from NYC can be heard on a number of recordings of the new generation of local jazz musicians... this recording from this ensemble only further cements that claim in place. Highly Recommended.

At the Reception has a divergent aim and result. Almost 75 minutes of music divided into two sets, Horvitz’s venture into conduction is designed to open up the tunes’ structure, giving the 14-member Royal Room Collective Music Ensemble more freedom to improvise. Like the music for 55, which involves some of the same musicians, the concept is only partially realized. Perhaps it’s the clean air and open spaces of Washington State that inured the players from urban tension, but at points the interpretations appear too perfect and lacking spontaneity. Every timbre and every voicing sounds locked-in, as if the ensemble is reading the score. Perhaps this demonstrates Horvitz’s grasp of Morris’ strategy to do away with jarring transitions from notated to improvised sequences. But this overly cautious approach almost negates any potential for musical free-falling, the thrilling tightrope-walking-without-a-net that the composer experienced playing in Morris’ groups as well as participating in Zorn’s game pieces. There are immaculate thematic elaborations by some soloists, but where are grittiness and passion that could make the tracks so much more?

Despite the freedom offered to the musicians, nothing ever sounds chaotic. The multiple horns (four trumpets, three trombones, four saxophones and clarinet) and rhythm instruments (bass, piano, drums) coalesce and combine in a manner which brings to mind Charles Mingus or Duke Ellington, or some of John Zorn’s catalytic tactics, but is progressively apart from those antecedents. Those interested in how this works visually can view an online live excerpt of “Disingenuous Firefight,” one of 13 cuts from At the Reception. ...

A quick commendation must be given to Andy Meyer, who recorded this music at Seattle’s London Bridge Studios; Brian Montgomery, who mixed the material; and Graemme Brown, who mastered. Each person should get kudos for their aural design or audio work. The communal band sound is excellent as well as all of the individual instrumentalists, from serene clarinet to soaring saxes...

...Wayne Horvitz's music remains multifaceted and transportable, from the hinterlands of avant classical to down-home folksy charm, from small group getups to large-ensemble blowouts. All of it, not necessarily unforgettable but most likely memorable, seemingly coached along by someone untethered to form, a sponge for inspiration and recreation, a spirit unabashedly unwilling to stop. The main thing, I guess, is that there's nobody else out there I hear even attempting to cover some kind of similar range, and do it so convincingly.