This release continues a slice of fusion not prolifically enough practiced nowadays. A surprisingly fulsome trio, Post Jazz Mistress is composed of Osvaldo di Dio on guitars, Vincenzo Virgillito on double bass, and Antonio Fusco on drums, all of whom write while sliding between many sub-genres fluidly, cranking one minute, refined and delicate the next. If you're a fan of Scott Henderson, Steve Smith (Vital Information, etc.), Wayne Johnson, Jeff Beck's later work, Om, Jan Akkerman's jazz side, Bill Frisell, and all the myriad musicians it took 50 years to fill a small notebook about, this is a solidly enchanting work in that vein. Deceptively layered, di Dio plays with consummate grace and broad intelligence, thus very much fulfilling the promo lit's promise of prog, jazz, nu-instrumental, and related sounds.
Riccardo Samperi did a killer job preserving every last note and nuance, managing to invest the entire collection with warmth and vigor through careful attention to each strand of frequency and overtone…which is a damned difficult thing because di Dio's everywhere at once. Virgillito flexes his muscle early on, in Waltz for Her, and from that point forward, you pay attention to the frequently Eberhard Weber-esque throatiness. Antonio Fusco, though, is a percussionistic painter and makes hideously cool use of space (catch Greetings from Fairbanks, for one) as well as washes (The Seven Secret Pools) along with the time-keeping duties. They're a trio, but they sound like a quintet.
Global Warming is entirely instrumental and vivid even when calm. Di Dio's choices are frequently unconventional but perfectly voiced, and Pat Martino comes peeking out with fair frequency (much so in Dancing on a Lonely Wave). The bulk of Global Warming is very much head music, the sort of thing the beatniks bled into the hippies in the 70s when aesthetes still had a few chances in game, an era that has yet to make a re-appearance in any broad fashion. Really, you could play this at a party of highly cerebral sophisticates, and I can only imagine the conversation it would background, but my guess is that everyone grabbing this disc is going to lower the lights, pour a flute of tawny port, maybe fire up some herb saved for a special occasion, and just quietly revel, perhaps with a kindred spirit, 'cause art like this is just a bit too good to be kept to oneself. And when the guys tear down Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds—hoo boy, it's almost the diametric opposite of Pure Food & Drug Act's outrageous cover of Eleanor Rigy but just as engrossing.
Edited by: David N. Pyles
Copyright 2012, Peterborough Folk Music Society.
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