Matthias Van den Brande: Fields of Color

A non-harmonic quartet raises unexpected questions

Can an essentially orthodox musical effort accurately reflect the most unconventional art? Is a concept album more attractive than others, simply by being one? Can a written review meaningfully convey insights about a score inspired by the creations of painter Mark Rothko, whose canvases, in turn, were conceived to express the intense sensations that poetry and classical music, particularly Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, stirred in him? Indeed, we face a disc that provokes a multitude of questions. A sort of 'infinity mirror' which, much like the opus of the States-based Latvian master it pays tribute to, demands quiet, solitary, persistent contemplation—an extended period of reflective immersion that draws the listener or viewer into a deep state of introspection. There, intimate sensations may arise—mystical or not—but are never imposed by the work itself through overt references to characters, forms or trends, nor by any external interference. In that sense, this review stands in blatant contradiction and perhaps should self-destruct immediately... But how interesting—and often fruitful—incongruities can be, as we shall see throughout these lines.

The fascinating new project by Belgian saxophonist Matthias Van den Brande marks his fourth release as a leader. It brings together various elements that have shaped his still-brief but excellent career—some of which first appeared on Opus #1 (Soulfactory Records, 2018), his engaging yet typically scattered debut, where he revealed both compositional skill and a solid, imaginative phrasing enriched by a beautiful, woody tone reminiscent of Joe Henderson's mature years. His second endeavor, a four-track EP, showcased a much more focused and constrained language while introducing his current trio, featuring Tijs Klaassen (bass) and Wouter Kuhne (drums). Together, they developed what might be called a neo-cool sound, gently infused with an experimental spirit that rarely goes outside but mostly stays within the confines of jazz orthodoxy, with occasional echoes of classical music. All of this culminated in Three Sides of a Coin (ZenneZ Records, 2023), a superb output that laid the stylistic foundation for Fields of Color. This is likely his first fully mature work, in which he successfully adds substantial presence to the trio with the extraordinary Belgian trumpeter Jean-Paul Estiévenart—a highly sought-after figure in his local scene and also at the helm of several groups.

No predetermination allowed here... Or is it?

Much like an expert guide walking us through a gallery, explaining the motivations and creative processes behind each canvas, this CD's liner notes offer insight into the sonic translation of the Rothko visual language depicted here. Again, questions arise: Does this context bring us closer to the recording than we might otherwise be? Help us understand it better? Our curiosity to decipher meanings beneath something initially disorienting, intimidating or incomprehensible is innate. Yet for many, the intensity of personal perception is enough—a subjective journey through an emotional ocean where rationalizing the experience is irrelevant. Rothko, in particular, spoke to such viewers. Regardless of the listener's stance, though, when something is explained with the depth of understanding that Van den Brande shows in his liner notes regarding the painter's life and work—and how they influenced the ten selections on this album—it offers a precious chance to empathize with the authors and better connect with the soundscape or imagery. This is especially appreciated when navigating much of contemporary art, particularly the more abstract tendencies exemplified here by 'color field' painting. It is equally helpful when engaging with those utterly experimental sound pieces that draw on spiritual, social or ideological content. And it is a reminder of the value of physical media—not only for offering, as in this case, thoughtful writings (which we will only reveal very partially), but also for providing a fairer financial return to both musicians and labels.

In a famous letter co-written with fellow painter Adolph Gottlieb to New York Times art critic Edward A. Jewell, dated June 7, 1943, Rothko stated: "We favor the simple expression of the complex thought." And yet, little about this music is simple. Van den Brande's 10 original themes—some retrieved from previous projects—unfurl a multicolored array of forms, moods and interpretations. These resolve at times into carefully studied simplicity, and at other occasions into subtle but never excessive complexity. Consider "Seagram Murals," with its Pat Metheny Group-in-a-dreamlike-state vibe, as an example of the former; or the shifting phases of "Trickling Stardust" as an ilustration of the latter—a composition where the tenor's voice, and the ensemble as a whole, seem to trace the footsteps of the Mark Turner Quartet on Lathe of Heaven (ECM, 2014) and other similar albums by this contemporary titan. Yet, this diversity is framed within a tight ambient coherence. No track feels out of place—not even "The Subway," whose explicit swing closes the record. That tune, originally written in 2015 under the title "Remember To Check Out," has been rewritten to connect with Rothko's early paintings of the subway, when his work still retained a figurative component. This consistency even extends to two improvised miniatures —"Chapel I" and "Chapel II"—intended to evoke the atmosphere of the so-called Rothko Chapel in Houston's University of Saint Thomas, and to the brief, overtone-rich 49 seconds of "Aeolian Harp."

Van den Brande minimizes his fondness for a cappella intros here but enhances other signature traits. Among them stands out his use of counterpoint in vivid dialogue with Estiévenart's phenomenal trumpet, as heard in "Lunar Landscapes," the album's opener, where the initial rhythmic motif introduced by the sax evolves into a melody harmonized by bass and trumpet. "Untitled Stories" weaves a seductive, Middle Eastern-tinged air between the horns, followed by a stunning solo from Estiévenart in full Dave Douglas mode. The rhythm section, for its part, excels in translating into organized sounds the sense of movement perceived by the leader in Rothko's early paintings—those bright-colored creations left untitled to avoid biasing the viewer's interpretation. Similar vibes emanate from "Multiforms," the most experimental cut on the record, with an approach clearly impacted by Ornette Coleman's historic quartet. Here, Van den Brande and Kühne engage in sharp exchanges before another masterful Estiévenart solo, steeped in the impressionist trumpet lineage of Chet Baker, Kenny Wheeler or Tom Harrell.

"Trickling Stardust" is maybe the disc's most intricate composition—a probable suite (bearing clear traces of the late '90s ensembles of the aforementioned Douglas) that begins much like the first track, now with tenor and bass weaving dark textures beneath a high-pitched rhythmic motif from Estiévenart. It is also the longest piece, and arguably the one (together with "Untitled Stories") where the Antwerp-born reed man asserts his voice with the greatest authority, striving for an increasingly personal language—one that acknowledges its influences while carving out its own identity. His solo dissolves into an abstract interlude, giving way to an almost foreboding passage where the ensemble's voices seem to call out to each other, clinging together in the surrounding darkness. "Yellow Fields" returns the light and joy, galloping along in mid-tempo with compelling solos from both horns and the drummer, and Klaassen saves his finest moments—including an intriguing monologue—for the closer, "The Subway," which shows unmistakable Art Farmer/Benny Golson/Jazztet refined manners.

Untitled coda (black on white)

There is something in the conception and execution of Fields of Color that echoes legendary recordings like Motion (Verve, 1951) by Lee Konitz, or the unforgettable collaborations between the Chicago altoist and tenorist Warne Marsh. This album shares with them a lyrical pursuit of purity, whose palette depth is far more nuanced than a quick, inattentive listen might reveal. Rothko's esthetics demand the very opposite of what today's mass museum tourism often seeks: the hurried snapshot, won by elbowing to the front, before a canvas that—at best—will be seen more through a phone lens than the human eye. What that spectator misses is the privilege of witnessing those textures, those subtle imperfections, that overall vision only revealed through patient, attentive, in-person observation from various angles and distances. The same holds true for this opus—and indeed, for any work made with talent, heart and care, regardless of genre.

This is a major step forward in Van den Brande's already brilliant career, one that also acts as a catalyst for deeper exploration among curious audiences. In that sense, it is not just a recommended disc—it is a necessary one for anyone interested in the intersections between different art forms and the effect of emotions and life events on them. But above all, it is a beautiful bundle of contradictions: from paying homage to a master through a musical genre he did not particularly favor, to including detailed liner notes that explain the meaning behind each selection, a gesture completely opposed to the painter's philosophy on how his creations should be experienced. However, perhaps the most sublime paradoxes lie in the two main characters themselves: Rothko repeatedly denied being an abstractionist, and Van den Brande, as noted on his website, suffers from color blindness—a condition that hinders color perception. And yet, that has not stopped him from being deeply moved by the Dvinsk-born artistic universe, nor from channeling his passion for it into such a magnificent musical canvas.

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