Alawari: Leviathan

Although Denmark's Alawari has been a known quantity in Europe since its founding in 2016, the group has yet to achieve the visibility it deserves elsewhere—but maybe that will change with Leviathan, the band's sophomore release. Filled with dense arrangements belying the sextet's diminutive size, emotionally resonant themes and fine musicianship, Alawari has crafted a gem of a record, one worth revisiting for its obvious and hidden charms.

There are a few lineup changes from the group's self-titled 2022 debut, with Michaela Turcerová replacing Asger Uttrup Nissen on alto saxophone and Rafal Różalski taking over the bass duties from Jonatan Melby Bak. And the ensemble is pared down a bit, with Eigil Pock Steen's electronic processing and sampling no longer present, although keyboardist Sune Sunesen Rendtorff does make occasional use of synthesizers on several tracks. In any case, as Alawari's concept dispenses with the conventional attention given to particular soloists, the ensemble's collective sound is its crucial calling card, with individual musicians' roles subsumed within the whole so that Leviathan is true to its predecessor's aesthetic. The group is as likely to use through-composed work as improvisation, further blurring the idiomatic lines that typically distinguish jazz from classical music.

The album's eleven pieces are relatively compact, most staying within the three to five-minute range; yet each possesses the feel of a complete statement, as there are no extraneous meanderings to be found. The music is at its most potent on tracks like the opener, "Evangelisten," a deliberately paced excursion that begins in a minimalist vein girded by a simple keyboard ostinato before the horns convey the lyricism at the heart of the piece, eventually building to a strikingly intense finish with just a hint of cacophony amidst the group's shared intensity. "Procession" has a similar character, with a tuneful theme articulated by Turcerová that becomes layered and enriched by the other horns as it too surges to a cathartic conclusion. These pieces are two of the longest on the album, and they realize their destination determinedly, with a steady and satisfying trajectory.

Despite these forays into a more boisterous register, most of the record stays in a subdued mode, with ruminations that take on a distinctively meditative character. "I Push Too" sees Carlo Janusz Becker Adrian's lambent trumpet carrying the piece's piercing melody over saxophone ostinatos, while "Himmelhænder" has a chorale-like feel, with all three horns in a gently exultant spirit. "Jamal" makes effective use of Rendtorff's synthesizers, adding texture and depth to another tuneful miniature with a quietly haunting theme.

The album concludes with the poignant "Peace Train"—not Cat Stevens 1970s pop classic but Rendtorff's own creation, with a tenacious resilience that ends the album on a triumphant note, as another stirring melody unites the group in the power of collective music-making.

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