The duet is an idea idiom: the scaffolding of improvisation laid bare, like wires gutted from a conduit. Here, musical dialogue becomes something about communicating, or miscommunicating, through paper cups. It's far less obvious that an improviser is making no sense, or has no sense, and/or no ideas, than when musicians are speaking ear to ear.
True Events hazardsif "hazard could describe music so carefulscrutiny, packed, coiled, and double-coiled with ideas. A less generous judgment might call this a "well-studied album, and it certainly does not shock of the new so much as it does the nuor the "now, involved as much of it is with the historical reduction that seems to consume the jazz milieu these days. At the same time, Bynum and Fujiwara are so well- equipped a pair of intellects that merely hearing them communicate so directly is enough to ignore the fact that little, if anything, truly innovative has been said.
Perhaps a better appellation would be "scholarly as in well-grounded. Bynum has a warm, malleable tone, a talent for coaxing out the personality of the cornet that few players of his generation seem to possess; it is colored in elements of Don Cherry and Bobby Bradfordwith, in pedals and splatter-effects, a few remarkable traces of Bill Dixonand it lapses here and there into the sort of insouciant effrontery of those earlier masters.
Bynum has an adroit, sensitive partner in Fujiwarayet another tremendous drummer out of Bostonand the conversational, strongly melodic character of this combination sides recalls any number of definitive brass-percussion duets. What separates a session like this and, for example, Don Cherry and Ed Blackwell's Mu (BYG/Actuel, 1969), is that those classic recordings had the feel of tightrope walks; True Events is a more like a jogfacile and quick, with little derring-do.
In other words, it sometimes seems that Bynum and Fujiwara are taking it a little too easy on themselvesdancing on the line rather than breaking it, which they seem amply capable ofbut one never feels a lack of intelligence or grace. Hearing Bynum and Fujiwara impose and superimpose rhythms on the time is great fun, and, especially in quieter spots, there's a potent lyricism, a subtle beauty that only the finest partnersI'm reminded of Louis Moholo-Moholo and Evan Parkercan conjure. These two players have no problem exposing their intricate, voluminous ideas, though I wish they would spill their guts a little more.
Personnel: Tomas Fujiwara: drums; Taylor Ho Bynum: cornet.