The Kris Davis Trio: Lost In Geneva

Lost in Geneva begins in that spatial, metro-rush way a lot of pianist/composer/provocateur Kris Davis' excursions into the city do. But it soon skews into its own glacial swath, like many of Davis' excursions into the city. Ergo, "The Subtext," a fierce workout by any means or description and its successor, "Congestion Pricing," a study in immediate subversiveness.

But Lost in Geneva (the first release on the pianist's new imprint, 4166 Records) is not all about immediacy or even just Davis' pioneering self. Lost in Geneva is also about bassist Robert Hurst holding up his end of the big bargain we all make to stick in someone's craw. Likewise, drummer Johnathan Blake who whispers his shouts and vice versa.

All this creates what scientists have described as the audible spine of undertaking and then makes real and reckless the namesake track. A veritable wind across unknown islands, Lost in Geneva, both the composition, and Lost in Geneva the album, quickly becomes one of those trio albums of a trio performance that takes its place alongside other great trios, then focuses all your attention on the peaceable meditation of "The Ballerina," and the rocking bop of "Where Does That Tunnel Go?"

And that is exactly where all attention should be focused. Because there is a lot going on in "Where Does That Tunnel Go?" that should not slide benignly under the radar. With its sly wit and innuendo and the fact that the track that follows, "Morning Dove"—a group-improvised mystery of a riddle told in just under a mere two minutes and forty-seven seconds—and Hurst's perfect six- minute soundtrack to wonder, "The Bluesy Bird in Bob's Backyard," make Lost in Geneva much more than most. That it all somehow veers towards "The Deer Fly" after making its way through preceding quickies from experimental composer Morton Feldman, "Nature Piece 5" and Blake's cunningly jumpy, yet most cohesive, "Clues."

It can be said that Davis makes her own rules and expects the listener to do the same, which, in a nutshell, is the theory behind Lost in Geneva when all is said and done and the dust settles from a kicking session. But before it is all said and done and we find ourselves in the hard hours of the night, there is "Northern Flicker"—a whisper, an open plea—to contend with. Then somehow suddenly it all makes sense. Exactly how Davis and her conspiratorial soulmates Hurst and Blake start out innocently enough with "The Ballerina," then bring us to our senses by the time "Northern Flicker" goes out. More words than this to discuss the unbound, unchecked, and unhindered movement of mind, spirit, and body that enables music like Lost in Geneva—yet another jewel in Davis' still-in-production crown, are unneeded hyperbole. To boil it all down, beyond a tweak of doubt, Lost in Geneva is a sure top-tenner at the end of this most tumultuous year.