Pegging Some Heartstrings: The Rudresh Mahanthappa Quartet in New Haven
Mahanthappa chose to perform pieces predominantly from his third recording, Codebook (Pi, 2006), with one selection by the Raw Materials duo, featuring Mahanthappa and Vijay Iyer. All references to past accomplishments aside, the music on this occasion never backed down. The group pressed full throttle throughout the entire two sets. The elements of the musical palette were combined to strike a perceptible balance between limits and freedom, intellectualism and spirit.
A blast from the alto, which Mahanthappa has mastered, broke anticipatory silence. Mahanthappa showed that he values arpeggios so much that he can sculpt their notes into thickets of mid-register tones and then step out into extended single long notes any time he chooses. Those extensions of the chord he can hit without hesitation, his tones exquisite and approaching the sounds that ring forth from a tenor. A gentle, mellifluous cluster of notes from Mahanthappa can drift across the musical surface like a cottony cloud briefly interrupting the sunlight. And when he chooses he can reach definitive notes in the highest register without causing the instrument to shriek.
Compositionally, Mahanthappa played in a straight line, on each of his solos, always moving forward, always with an endpoint in his mind. His alto carried the band with themes initially and then produced a succession of phrases that the other musicians assimilated into systems of sound bearing the stamp of Mahanthappa's own individual, insistent delivery. Perhaps this interplay reflected how Mahanthappa's compositions had seeped into each musician's subconscious mind so deeply that no one could do anything but imitate the leader's musical state of mind. There was simply is no divergence from a collaborative plan. The band produced a four-instrument series of unrelenting ostinatos behind each musician. Moreover, the ensemble embodied the quintessence in capturing conversational, call-and-response exchanges between the most unlikely couples. And the tempo changes were negotiated with unquestionably clean-cut expertise.
Mahanthappa and Iyer must be made of the same batch of cells. Iyer's capacity to translate Mahanthappa's energy and drive into pianistic terms was uncanny. Just as Mahanthappa illustrated his conceptions with detailed execution, so did the pianist convert his instrument into the ultimate alto complement. At times, the piano and alto were so closely aligned, in approach and in harmony, that the two instruments became one. Iyer placed his fingers carefully on the keys, then moved them lithely and with celerity. His soloing, similar to Mahanthappa's, revealed a penchant for developing arpeggios on the keyboard that caused the sound to spread like pools of water. Often he worked the keys from the center, as a departure point or to re-collect his main musical idea after branching out. Hands that alternated between trills and chords ushered in rhythm changes as well as harmonic ones, permitting the pianist to start afresh, contributing the underpinnings of the piano to support other soloists and to reinforce the band's interconnection.
Just as the technical acumen of Mahanthappa and Iyer demonstrated certain ensemble tightness, Moutin and Weiss were equally adept at imparting looseness and freedom to the music. This rhythm section supported the lead players in a way that presented a contrast in performance between the two pairs of players. Moutin pulled a full three fingers through the bass strings, producing heavy and rounded pizzicati highlighted by large glissandi. His playing, moreover, provided full textures that integrated well with the thickly resonant layers and opacity of the band's collective sound. When Moutin soloed, he was so totally engaged with tripping two-handedly through the strings that his entire body hugged his instrument. Often the bassist provided a bridge from one episodic movement to another, his fingering acting as though it were stroking silken cloth, so as not to snag the smooth fabric.