Jon Raskin: Brötz Now!

Three improvisers from opposite sides of the Atlantic meet on Brötz Now!, a live recording that captures what can happen when experienced players value conversation over conquest. There is no sense of anyone trying to 'win' the set. Instead, the music unfolds as a shared inquiry, shaped moment by moment.

Jon Raskin longtime member of the Rova Saxophone Quartet, has spent four decades exploring the porous line between composition and improvisation. His playing here reflects that history. He favors clarity and placement over volume, allowing phrases to settle before nudging them forward. Electronic musician Tim Perkis, a founding member of the early computer-network ensemble The Hub, approaches his console with similar restraint. Rather than flooding the space with effects, he inserts textures that subtly redirect the current. Swedish pianist Sten Sandell completes the trio, drawing from European avant-garde and Scandinavian free jazz traditions. His touch ranges from crystalline fragments to dense clusters, yet he rarely overstates a point.

Recorded at Brötz Jazzklubb GBG in Gothenburg, the performance resists easy contrasts. One might expect a tidy division of roles—reeds against keys against circuits—but the trio blurs those boundaries. Sandell's piano alternates between harmonic grounding and rhythmic disruption. Perkis shapes atmosphere without slipping into gimmickry. Raskin moves between jagged cries and nearly-whispered tones, attentive to the shifting terrain.

On "Bohusleden," quick synth currents intersect with Sandell's angular voicings while Raskin threads in wiry, tensile lines. The music tightens, splinters, then reforms. Energy accumulates in waves rather than dramatic peaks, and when the trio eases back, the release feels organic. Silence is not an afterthought; it is part of the architecture. Pauses carry weight, and the musicians trust them.

"Vättlefjäll" opens with Raskin's concise, almost haiku-like gestures. Sandell answers with bright, darting accents that scatter across the keyboard. Perkis responds with understated electronic shadings, and the three gradually accelerate into animated exchanges. Just as momentum threatens to tip into excess, they pivot toward a quieter resolution. The restraint feels earned rather than imposed.

The recording captures the evening with documentary clarity. Breath, key clicks and electronic hum remain intact. Nothing is polished away. Brötz Now! documents three seasoned improvisers listening closely and adjusting in real time. The music does not chase spectacle. It rewards patience, drawing listeners into the subtle drama of collective discovery.