Alain Metrailler: Heights Prospection

Who is going to be the next Miles Davis? Or the next John Coltrane? With their two most lauded albums—Kind Of Blue (Columbia, 1959) and A Love Supreme (Impulse, 1966, respectively, the trumpeter and saxophonist (again, respectively) set the bar for top-tier, post-bop jazz ensemble outings. A bar so high it may never be achieved again. But then some strive for that high level of artistic expression. Polish trumpeter Tomasz Stańko, with a series of albums on ECM Records, gave the effort in that direction a good run. Saxophonist Oded Tzur is moving in that direction with a sharp vision, a free spirit and a distinctive compositional voice.

For Swiss saxophonist Alain Metrailler, it is early in the game. Heights Prospection is his debut, one that says he may not be capable of the heights of Davis and Coltrane—probably no one is—but he could find his way into the ranks of Stanko or Tzur.

He covers a lot of ground on this debut, from searing, searching Coltrane-ian freedom of the opener, "Obvious Transmission," through the insouciant grooves of "Crispy," the soul searching of "EWR Hero Saynt," and the ecstasy of creation that permeates "Jump Loud."

Metrailler employs an all-star quartet to help shape this sound: Elias Stemeseder on piano, Christopher Tordini on bass and the omnipresent Eric McPherson on drums. It is an equality of input mode of operation that sounds as locked in and synergistic as any unit working today, even those with long-term histories.  Though the leader is out front, it is the group interplay—loose and highly inspired—that sticks in the minds after a couple of spins.

"Flight of the Humblebees" features Gregoire Maret on harmonica, with Stemeseder laying down a lacy, delicate backdrop for him and McPherson shuffles with an adept delicacy that leads into a dance of interweaving harmonica-saxophone melodic lines.

The set includes seven Metrailler originals and one cover, the disc's closer, "Crazy He Calls Me." The saxophonist's passion for music is palpable throughout the entire set. He play the music like someone in love. On this lovely ballad that closes the show, he displays an adoring and tender reverence for the familiar melody, reminiscent of the way Coltrane treated Billy Strayhorn's "Lush Life," the title tune of his 1961 Prestige Records release.

The next Coltrane? Probably not, but his debut suggests he has what it takes to reach, credibly, to those heights as anybody else who has taken a shot at it.