Dylan Jack Quartet: Eine Quartett des Grauens

Often—or at least usually, or sometimes? Let's say sometimes—the classics are classics for a reason. Any horror buff has their own ideas where to go for some creepy-crawlies and jump scares, but they'll probably all agree (on some level) that the most old-school classics set down the blueprint before moving pictures were even matched up with sounds. As Halloweeny films go, Dylan Jack and friends recognize 1922's silent-cinema staple Nosferatu as one of the true old guard, with a world-of-its-own weirdness that made it a sire to a million others.

For the Dylan Jack quartet, the love of old silent films leads straight to the adjacent other old tradition of silent-film soundtracks. This instrumental lineup is a tad more modern than that of a real silent cinema thanks to Eric Hofbauer's electric guitar, but the quartet's homage to that era's sound and spirit feels as authentic as it comes. If some 1920s movie house had been able to add the guitar to a lineup of rhythm section and woodwinds, it's not hard to imagine this being just the kind of music the audiences might have heard.

The DJQ developed their own Nosferatu soundtrack with a series of performances improvising along with the film itself, and the EP-length selection that makes up Ein Quartett Des Grauens spins an atmosphere just as portentous and unnerving as its source. Hofbauer's guitar chords hover in haunting clouds of reverb occasionally broken with sudden squeals. Tony Leva's bass sometimes tumbles but more often sticks to slinky lines evoking hesitant footsteps. The leader prowls behind the drum kit punctuating the action with the rattles of a poltergeist.

One does not have to know the actual film to hear an arc through these tracks (although matching them with the right scenes could be an interesting game for those with the patience). The group enjoys a haunting slow build as much as a quick burst of noise. A little jaunty jazz groove breaks up the gloom in the beginning, but not completely, and not for long before the formless foreboding returns. The second half soon glides into a full bonkers freak-out smoothly enough that it doesn't even feel like a sudden turn, with Jerry Sabatini's trumpet and Hofbauer's guitar flailing for all they're worth.

Just as quickly, the chaos subsides into anarchy of the most languid kind with Leva bowing his strings slow as doom. It's probably just as well they chose a tidy 20-minute set; a full hour or more of this might easily feel like too much abstract aimlessness if standing all on its own. The partial selection here still comes out as a complete work, making a nice dose of the creeps for spooooky season, or a perverse treat any time for those who consider horror a way of life all year round.

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