Malaby Reed Smiley Coulter: Continental Divide

A crackling energy permeates Continental Divide, as if the album itself straddles tectonic plates, with the music shifting and erupting underfoot like a geological tempest in full bloom. Saxophonist Tony Malaby and trumpeter Josh D. Reed, masters of controlled chaos, lead this exploratory quartet with raw yet precise lines amid urgent, reflective, and occasionally transcendent musings. The ensemble plunges headfirst into free jazz, crafting spontaneous yet cohesive sonic landscapes that feel as vast and unpredictable as the geographical feature the title evokes—though perhaps with more brass and considerably less snow.

Malaby's tenor and soprano saxophones oscillate between furious bursts of sound and moments of haunting introspection, like a prophet alternating between divine revelation and deep meditation. Each band member complements his intensity with an equally fierce commitment to the unknown, creating a musical expedition that would make Lewis and Clark seem like casual day-hikers. The interplay between the rhythm section is particularly striking—pulsing, churning, and often dismantling any notion of stability with the precision of an expert watchmaker disassembling time itself.

The album opens with the tumultuous "Break Off," a piece that begins with sparse tones before erupting into a tempest of collective improvisation as if the instruments were engaged in a spirited debate about which direction to take the musical compass. Ron Coulter (whose polyrhythms could indeed light up a seismograph and possibly power a small city) and bassist Matt Smiley form a dynamic duo, providing a shifting foundation for the soloists' stormy flights.

"Running Line" commences with Malaby's popping tenor sax notes, building toward a maelstrom while managing to inject moments of clarity, akin to a sunbeam cutting through storm clouds, and countering Reed's coarse lines. Coulter adds a crisp element via snappy rimshots that punctuate chaos like exclamation points in a manifesto.

"Click Drag" emerges as busy yet productive, featuring Malaby's circular soprano sax choruses, accented with largely calming melodic overtones. "Hook Set" materializes with the trumpeter's breathy voicings, Smiley's minimalist arco bass lines and the drummer's asymmetrical tom patterns. The music is characterized by the musicians' isolated statements coalescing into a summit, though they veer off and regroup like mountain climbers finding multiple paths to the peak.

Like its namesake, the Continental Divide marks a watershed moment where musical tributaries converge and diverge spectacularly. The quarter creates an album that maps bold new musical territories while honoring the forces that carved them. At the summit of their artistry, these musicians have crafted something rare—music that ignores the borders we draw around genres, daring us to follow where the horizon leads.

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