Michael McNeill: Barcode Poetry

Pianist Michael McNeill has pursued a number of projects since his debut release, Passageways, in 2013, each of which has defined his distinctive niche as a musician informed by both avant-garde and conventional jazz. On Barcode Poetry, it is the former impulse that prevails, as McNeill and his esteemed colleagues—Susan Alcorn on pedal steel guitar, Dave Ballou on trumpet, and Shelly Purdy on vibes and percussion—engage in lengthy studies in texture and abstraction rather than straightforward melodic expression.

McNeill has done well in assembling this quartet, which has worked together since 2022 and recorded the album after a week spent touring to hone its collective sound. From the opener, "Timeigrant," forward, one of the group's noteworthy characteristics is the sensitivity needed to stay out of each other's way, looking for the best opportunities to complement the others' contributions. There are numerous moments in which just one or two musicians hold the floor, with the others joining in only when needed. So when the other three enter the conversation after McNeill's energized solo begins on "Timeigrant," it is an uncluttered sound that results, with all four players finding a comfortable place alongside one another. And when they do, it is for the listener to delight in the mutual play of discrete forces, with Ballou's clarion trumpet engaging the elliptical musings of Alcorn and McNeill, while Purdy's assorted percussion fills in the gaps that remain.

Although McNeill is credited with all six compositions on the album (with "As a Metaphor" given two separate takes), much of the music feels uncomposed, with plenty of space for the pieces to evolve patiently and unhurriedly. There is a jaunty quality to the title track, with rhythmic figures that all four musicians explore within fairly tight parameters; but the other tracks are considerably more oblique, with shadows and lacunae rather than sharply defined contours. Alcorn and Purdy in particular are key assets here, as their various shadings and colorings contribute to the shape of each piece. At times this can be quite compelling, as on the quietly lyrical "Elegy," where the gentle convergence of the musicians carries a subdued power.

Other moments are somewhat less riveting, as it can be difficult to find a foothold amidst the rarefied air of some of the more open-ended pieces. But even there, listening to four terrific musicians find their way through McNeill's always-interesting pieces carries its own rewards.

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