Jetse de Jong: Intercities

Adept at drawing upon all the Nordic shades of prolonged light, Amsterdam-based pianist Jetse de Jong, drummer Roope Kantonen, and bassist Robert Rebane tell their travelogues while fully bearing witness to ours, resulting in a debut of articulate beauty and restive motion.

The seven well-crafted, diligently thought-out de Jong compositions which make up the whole of Intercities carry us not only into the ethereal and sometimes all too fleeting instant of creation, but also into the process by which it becomes a complete narrative, a statement of purpose and consciousness. And yes, maybe some of these balletic melodies, which de Jong seems to evoke from the ether, bear the strong mark of the same contemplative folk mysteries which inspire pianist Tord Gustavsen or fueled the genius of the late, sorely missed Esbjorn Svensson; in nature, they are never imitative or beholding. Kantonen and Rebane are more than welcome to the structure, in their playing imparting an open airiness and willingness to allow for collective invention and interpretation.

The trio has a truly veteran sense of letting the beauty ride itself, thus enabling each affecting realization within the body of Intercities to speak wholly for its lissome self. There is a cool amusement listening to Rebane's electric burble goad "Manon," the album's strongest foray into improv. "Intercities" springboards from crescendo to invocation. "Senhora da Hora" is joyful group frolic. Like whispering nocturnes "Church," the Keith Jarrett tinged "Birth," and "Malestrom" reflect time passing serenely, calmly, quietly—three absolute virtues needed worldwide at the moment.