Spinifex: Maxximus

Spinifex, the Amsterdam sextet formed in 2005 by saxophonist Tobias Klein, has spent two decades rattling jazz conventions with math-metal precision and global rhythmic flair. With trumpeter Bart Maris, tenor saxophonist John Dikeman, guitarist Jasper Stadhouders, bassist Gonçalo Almeida, and drummer Philipp Moser, their live shows ignite like sonic wildfires. Maxximus marks their twentieth anniversary and first acoustic venture. They welcome violist Jessica Pavone, cellist Elisabeth Coudoux, and vibraphonist Evi Filippou . This unplugged pivot swaps electric chaos for chamber- like intimacy along with brazen and sweltering movement.

"Smitten," the opener, creeps in like a thief under moonlight. Klein's bass clarinet entwines with Maris's piccolo trumpet; both tiptoe over Stadhouders's guitar, plucking notes as if dodging suspicion. Filippou's vibraphone strikes with sly menace. Then the ensemble unleashes a brisk, vehement free-bop groove in the bridge. Fiery solos erupt atop a maddening pulse while the group wreaks havoc, yet it closes with alluring choruses. The track surges not in volume but in frenetic rhythmic architecture—like a punk band gate-crashing a string quartet's soirée.

"Phoenix" dances across time, folding melodies into a labyrinth where beginnings blur. The musicians craft contrapuntal engagements through quaint choruses, peppery trumpet lines, off-kilter vibraphone accents, emotive extended-note outbreaks and solemn string passages. Moser and Filippou deploy a potpourri of percussion to color the asymmetrical pace. Sequences of crashing cymbals, drums, and assorted implements generate confusion and dismay, driving home the often-intense dialogues.

"Springend" injects a jolt of joy—a border-hopping jig where hornists chase each other and dish out bold unison choruses, then sway into the free zone before rerouting toward a conventional jazz chart. Stadhouders elevates it with speedy, rapid-fire single-note lines as the ensemble alters trajectory and cadence once more. Various segments are almost hummable, yet Spinifex ensures chaos lurks beneath, ready to pounce. "Annie Golden" slows to a nostalgic glow. Maris's trumpet sings over strings and mallet instruments that evoke a sepia-toned jazz age, morphing into a languid jazz-rock motif and sparkling orchestral arrangements.

At times, the group can seem overeager, pivoting just as you settle into a groove—snatching away a tasty motif for another before the first has fully landed. The restlessness is part of their charm, yet it may occasionally leave the listener chasing shadows instead of savoring the sunlight. However, Maxximus is evolution, not retreat. It opens a portal to Spinifex's feral catalog and beckons listeners into the storm.

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