Kristijan Krajnčan Quartet: Honey Sparks In The Dark

The hit of honey on tastebuds and the met gaze of a homeless man may seem like curious seeds of inspiration for an album, but Kristijan Krajnčan is no run-of-the-mill artist. A double threat as a virtuoso cellist and drummer, Krajnčan is also a filmmaker and soundtrack composer. What perhaps best defines his artistry is an organic appreciation of music that recognizes no boundaries between genres, or between past and present. For the Slovenian multi-instrumentalist, everything belongs in the great melting pot from which he builds his palette.

Honey Sparks In The Dark is Krajnčan's fourth album as leader and his first since Zabučale Gore: The Mountains Roared (Hrošč Records, 2022). Whereas Zabučale Gore was a solo outing—with sound design by Andrej Kobal—Honey Sparks In The Dark features the Kristijan Krajnčan Quartet, with saxophonist Boštjan Simon, trumpeter Tomaž Gajšt and double bassist Robert Jukič. As he has done before, Krajnčan mines traditional Slovenian songs for three of the compositions, taking the melodic bones of these tunes and divining new possibilities.

At the music's poles, pointillistic detail and potent fanfare contrast markedly, but the journeying in between these extremes is gradual, never jarring. The musician's roles in the main are clearly defined, though it can be a challenge to distinguish bowed bass from cello, or to unravel the threads of a multi-voiced drone. On the ambitious "Ascending/Descending," minimalist percussion, sotto voce whistling—like distant memory recalled—and loops add other-worldly textures as rhythms surge and dissipate. The quartet deals freely in distinct currencies: strong melodies and grooves on the one hand; dissonance and abstraction on the other. On "Contemplating," these extremes bleed into one another, while themes and patterns circle with considered logic.

Experimental, yes, but every step feels weighed and calibrated—poetically so, at times. Meaty solos, particularly by Simon and Gajšt, are not in short supply. Saxophonist and trumpeter dovetail to telling effect throughout: in their unison lines, and in their harmonic and contrapuntal weave. One of the music's strengths lies in Krajnčan's juggling of the quartet's voices; bass and cello enjoy breathing space in the music's more contemplative passages but get sucked into the collective vortex on the blaring group exclamation that punctuates "Roaring" like a ghostly foghorn. The leader's drumming—and percussive elements—drop in and out as the music swells and recedes.

Even in the most left-field passages, shafts of lyricism shine through: the kernel of a trumpet melody amidst general abstraction; an emotive unison dirge; a lulling outro; Krajnčan saves the best for last with "Accepting," a cello-led meditation that oscillates between warm resolution and haunting enquiry.

Compelling in both its details and in its broader narrative arcs, Honey Sparks In the Dark further cements Krajnčan's credentials as one of the most distinctive composer-performers working today.