Angelika Niescier: Chicago Tapes

When German alto saxophonist Angelika Niescier first explored Chicago jazz a few years ago—teaming with cellist Tomeka Reid on the striking Beyond Dragons (Intakt, 2023)—the collaboration sparked something unmistakably electric. Now comes Chicago Tapes,, recorded live at Transient Sound Studio. Here, Niescier dives headlong into the improvisational deep end of the city, enlisting an all-star lineup drawn from the restless creative core of Chicago's boundary-pushers.

Niescier wields her alto alongside Dave Rempis, who toggles between alto and tenor with the dexterity of a fire-juggler, while Nicole Mitchell contributes flute lines that shift from ethereal whispers to guttural roars. Jason Adasiewicz supplies the vibes, his metallic shimmers lending the session a fever-dream quality that blurs the line between rhythm and atmosphere. Luke Stewart anchors the ensemble on bass with plucks and bows that exert a quiet, magnetic gravity, while Mike Reed drives the drums as a perpetual instigator who sustains momentum without a single stall. These players are Chicago lifers, steeped in a lineage ranging from the Art Ensemble of Chicago to the AACM traditions that pulse through every exchange.

The album proceeds at high velocity: a nonstop surge that stimulates the ears and leaves the listener winded, as if the music demands that you buckle up for its sudden hairpin turns and jagged architectural shifts. The opener, "Rejoice, Disrupt, Resist," erupts with furious intent, Niescier and Rempis trading biting, percussive lines over the relentless propulsion provided by Reed in a piece that feels almost punk in its defiance. "Poranek" follows as a trio exercise featuring the saxophone of Niescier, the ecstatic flute of Mitchell, and the chatty percussion of Reed in a heated, rhythmic romance that feels both ancient and futuristic.

Witty moments surface throughout, such as the vigorous bass solo by Stewart in "SAMO (bsqt)" that crashes the party like an uninvited but welcome guest, stretching the track into an 11-minute explosion of flutter-tongues and sprawling ideas. Not all is a sprint, however; "Great Horned Owl" offers a necessary moment of chamber delicacy, with the mallets of Adasiewicz nestling into an atmospheric hush before the next storm gathers on the horizon.

"Fluxed" delivers pure volatile delight—a cascade of shifts that highlights the profound trust and telepathic listening of the group—while "Bouncin' the Ledge" rambles rambunctiously, with saxophones and flute locked in a liminal dance that is both ghostly and grounded, eventually peaking in a series of glorious uproars.

Niescier adapts her sharp, uncompromising voice seamlessly to this setting without dulling its edge or overshadowing her collaborators. The result honors the free-jazz heritage of Chicago while nudging it forward with conviction and a raw, modern sensibility. Traditionalists may scratch their heads at the unhinged sound, but that is precisely the thrill: In chaotic times, why should music play polite?

Chicago Tapes stands as a fearless document of cross-continental synergy. It proves that Niescier is not just a visitor to this scene, but a vital catalyst for one of the most formidable current ensembles of the city.