Sam Newbould: Homing

England-born, Netherlands-based alto saxophonist Sam Newbould uses the title of his third album to directly reference his temporary adoption of a Polish homing pigeon. But in a broader sense, Homing is about a man's pursuit to pinpoint his identity as an artist abroad. Zeroing in on that subject with clarity, sophistication, smarts, humor and a slanted tunefulness all his own, Newbould folds everything neatly into his own findings and takes listeners along for a compelling ride.

Leading a quintet featuring tenor saxophonist Bernard van Rossum, pianist Xavi Torres, bassist Jort Terwijn and drummer Guy Salamon, and sweetening the deal with the glazing vocals of guest singer Beth Aggett, Newbould wastes no time demonstrating his gift for soulfulness and wit. "Barba Tenus Sapientes," nodding to the "wise as far as the beard" warning, finds the facial hair-wearing leader melodizing and winking with class over Salamon's compressed backbeat. That leads to the nimble, kaleidoscoping "Below The Elbow," featuring some of Torres' most absorbing work; and that, in turn, gives way to the slow-flow R&B of "Anglesey," which, intentional or not, steers the mind to the titular Welsh island and its many-splendored sights. The first of eleven originals, those opening pieces speak to the leader's clear gifts with both pen and horn.

By the time Newbould arrives at the title track—the album's first single, batting cleanup here—it's clear that his search for self deals more with what's been found than anything that's lost, missing or uncertain. He is completely at home within that number's angular groove play, the wondrous yet somber expanse of "Little Boy Ghost" and the frolicsome hypnotics of "Odd Jobs," and his band mates are right there with him, amplifying the messages and moods that carry across the air. Taken all together it's a testament to one man's strength of self and the collective chemistry he's built from that base.

Variation and variegation is most definitely part and parcel of each number to this point—and Newbould's work in general—and those ideals come further to the fore with the late arrival of two short "Below The Elbow" reprises. The three remaining full-length tracks, not to be steered away from this thinking, find their own ways to twist and recolor an idea. "Believe You Me," covering the whole quirky-to-anthemic gamut, deals in mutative magic. "Twinkle Twinkle"—a bumping tribute to Thelonious Monk's "Trinkle, Tinkle"—spirals in style. And "Dog Dance" struts its samba-esque stuff with impish play.

Reflecting on the theme of this record, Newbould's thoughts are clear as day: "Unlike the homing pigeon, my feeling of home isn't tied to a particular place anymore, and the album is inspired by that process of building a new feeling of home." That mindset is clearly married to these musical constructs, supporting their success and serving as the hearth of Homing.

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