Jody Redhage Ferber / Alan Ferber / Mark Ferber: Confluence

Cellist Jody Redhage Ferber has been at the forefront of creative music for two decades, effectively straddling the line between jazz and classical settings. Her husband, celebrated trombonist Alan Ferber, is one of this genre's premiere large group composers, having garnered multiple Grammy nominations and topped polls with both his nonet and big band. His twin brother, ace drummer Mark Ferber, has long been a first call to both jazz stars and up-and-comers. Together, these three have experienced personal and professional life from so many different angles. And this rare opportunity to hear them as a self-contained trio (with a welcome guest here and there) magnifies their singular rapport.

On paper, the combination of two bass clef instruments and drums may not seem like an ideal combination. But before the first track on the album is through, the ears are disabused on that notion. The scene for "Prelude Allemande" is set with 90 seconds of solo cello perfection. And just when you think the matter of direction is settled, a sweeping pas de trois in seven ensues. The Ferbers prove transportive, bringing the listener—and J.S. Bach—to an entirely different place.

That Baroque master's work—Suite No. 3 in C Major for Unaccompanied Cello, specifically—looms large in the Ferbers' performance history together. Several years ago, Jody and Alan reimagined the piece as a duo, premiering their interpretation at Carnegie's Weill Recital Hall. Expanding on their idea, they brought Mark into the mix. And then their desire to capture that take for posterity ultimately led to this recording. So, interspersed throughout the album, you have "Sarabande," a vocalized vision that balances serenity with haunting tides; "Courante," opening on Mark's tom-tastic setup for Jody's reel-like ride and Alan's flowing and buoyant blowing; and "Bouree," where Jody briefly adopts a bassist's stance and pizz to lock with Mark while Alan slyly offers variations, and later brings finality into focus with her arco out.

While Bach's music is at the heart of Confluence, it makes up less than half the program. And the remainder of the material, covering a tremendous amount of ground, is all first-rate. Ferber's own "Magnolia," with pianist Adam Maness and Matt Sewell added to the roster, nods to his nonet work and soars in style. McCoy Tyner's "Contemplation," with saxophonist Chris Cheek on board, has fire in its soul. And Bill Evans' "Children's Play Song" goes from gorgeous to jaunty and back again.

Todd Sickafoose's "Paper Trombones" offers a touch of danger, some slyly muted trombone, Cheek's low-blow explorations and a primo drum spot. "Paris," looking back to Alan's In The Paint (Posi-Tone Records, 2009) with David Binney, gives Maness' piano and the composer's slide their due. And Kenny Wheeler's timeless "Kind Folk," with Sewell in play, possesses an aura all its own, with a skipping feel underscoring kaleidoscopic beauty.

You go into this knowing that these three are related, but you come out understanding that they know how to relate. Confluence isn't just an album title for the Ferbers; it's a way—their only way—of being.

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