Hillai Govreen: Every Other Now

Many musicians are content to write and perform songs, while others continuously explore deeper territory. Clarinetist, saxophonist, and composer Hillai Govreen belongs firmly to the latter camp. At heart, she is a storyteller, and with Every Other Now, her debut solo release, she creates music that invites not only listening but also imagination.

Govreen first drew notice with Allusions (Starr Street, 2021), a duo with pianist Nitsan Kolko, where her sensitivity and command of dialogue came to the fore. With Every Other Now she expands her vision, joining forces with bassist Ben Meigners, guitarist Steve Cardenas, pianists Noah Stoneman and Eden Ladin, drummers Eric McPherson and William West along with percussionist Cafe Da Silva. The setting provides a rich field where Govreen's voice, on both tenor saxophone and clarinet, can shift between lyric lead, conversational partner, and ensemble color.

Her tenor saxophone style leans more toward the supple lyricism of Stan Getz than the improvisational intensity of John Coltrane. On clarinet, Govreen adds a texture that feels both modern and rooted in tradition, at times recalling Anat Cohen, one of her mentors. What makes her voice distinctive is the way she balances emotional vulnerability with conceptual strength. She writes with clarity while allowing her collaborators the freedom to help shape the contours of each piece.

Several tracks carry a cinematic quality. "Smoke," inspired by Wayne Wang and Paul Auster's 1995 film, unfolds like a dialogue, with Govreen's tenor lines echoing the film's conversational rhythms. "The Day Of" and "The Day After That," written in response to the October 7 attacks in Israel, form the emotional centerpiece of the album: two perspectives on the same event, turning loss into reflection and resilience.

But Every Other Now is not defined solely by solemnity. "Something Short" bursts with playful spontaneity, while the clarinet-driven "Downhill" brings lightness and rhythmic lift. Standards are reimagined with equal inventiveness: Harold Arlen's "Ill Wind" is recast with Fender Rhodes and a funk-forward groove, while Rodgers and Hammerstein's "This Nearly Was Mine" closes the set with disarming vulnerability.

Underlying the program is a meditation on memory and perception. As Govreen herself puts it, "Our perception of events changes with distance." That sensibility runs through the album, where improvisation becomes a way of processing the past in the present tense.

With Every Other Now, Govreen establishes herself as a vital new presence in contemporary jazz. A musician whose clarinet and saxophone sing with humanity, whose compositions carry narrative weight and whose music reminds us that storytelling is as essential to jazz as swing and improvisation. Even without lyrics, she makes her voice heard with striking clarity.

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