Natsuki Tamura / Satoko Fujii: Aloft

By the time of its ninth release a band might be struggling to produce something new. Not so the Japanese wife-and-husband duo of pianist Satoko Fujii and trumpeter Natsuki Tamura. They reap the benefits of a long association while sidestepping potential downsides to keep things fresh and unpredictable. While previous albums have often featured the compositions of one or both, on Aloft they dispense with charts altogether and trust in their instincts.

That trust is amply repaid. It helps that both can conjure form and shape from nowhere. Why does that matter? Because the human brain constantly searches out patterns, seeking order even from chaos, and finds satisfaction when it does. And certainly there is satisfaction to be had here. It can come from appreciation at the micro level, from combination of Fujii's recurring tolling motif and Tamura's melodic rejoinders in "Migration," which combine for a delightful opener. But it can also derive from admiration at the macro scale, from the alternating blasts of gusty trumpet and crystalline piano arpeggios which lend structure to "Wintering."

But too much focus on such gambits ignores the expressive ingenuity that can transform the simplest lines or figures. Fujii brings rich drama to whatever she touches while Tamura reconciles a love of unusual textures with a lyrical bent and command of conventional trumpet sonorities. Put the two together and that is where the magic happens. You can just imagine them watching each other with hawk-like intensity in the studio as they forge the staccato unison bursts set amid silence in "Traveling Bird." Here and elsewhere, their use of space is exemplary.

Tamura's wry humor surfaces on "On The Flyway" where his vocalized growling suggests Donald Duck chuntering with a trumpet bell for a beak, as he stalks Fujii's surging ostinatos and wily pauses. However his eerie elk-like bleats supplant comic effect with mystery on the final "Waiting For Dawn," a feeling affirmed by Fujii's buzzing reverberations as she uses an ebow on the piano strings. Indeed there is something of that time before twilight when the air is at its stillest about the piece. It is pregnant with possibility, but does not offer resolution. For that the listener must wait until the next joint adventure, and hopefully for not too long.

While the term instant composing is frequently bandied about with regard to impromptu dates, on Aloft Fujii and Tamura offer a masterclass in the art.

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