The Vampires: Nightjar

Australian saxophonist Jeremy Rose's admiration for minimalist trio The Necks is of great depth, to the extent that he published an essay on the group, entitled "Memory and Mindfulness in the Musical Rituals of the Necks," examining musical ritualistic practices "beyond the African American realm capable of scaffolding transcendent experience." And he is not the only Vampire to have previously collaborated with a Neck. Besides his own ethno-improvisational endeavor with the trio Vazesh, featuring The Necks bassist Lloyd Swanton and tar player Hamid Sadeghi, captured on The Sacred Key (Earshift Music, 2021), Rose's Vampires horn-counterpart on trumpet, Nick Garbett, was joined by The Necks drummer Tony Buck on his album The Glider (Banksia Records, 2021). In that sense, inviting the third member of The Necks, pianist Chris Abrahams, to join in on the dub-laden musical explorations of Nightjar could simply be considered the logical next step. The album follows 2019's Pacifica (Earshift Music), which was preceded by the acclaimed collaborative effort with guitarist Lionel Loueke on The Vampires Meet Lionel Loueke (Earshift Music, 2017).

Sharing compositional duties almost equally between them, Garbett and Rose create atmospheric frameworks with immediate melodic hooks, inviting the rhythm section—bassist Noel Mason and Alex Masso on drums—to settle in comfortably between African folk rhythms and their modernized guises. As with The Necks, virtuosity is never an end in itself for The Vampires. Subtlety reigns in these realms, and Chris Abrahams' minimalist approach fits in neatly, always adapting to the group interplay as he colors out spaces left untouched with sparse harmonic shapes and textural overtone layers. Both those qualities are on full display in the opening Rose-penned cut "Game Changers." A soothing pulse dominates the piece, with much room for each musician to flex. Held together by mindfully wrought unison lines and ostinatos, the song is permeated with consecutive thematic branches to grab onto.

Tracks such as "Khan Shatyr" and "Ortigara" follow the same principles, but with different temperaments—the former being an up-beat variation steeped in reggae, the latter an obscured dub elaboration with atmospheric synth layers, Noel Mason switching to electric bass and the obligatory waves of delay and reverb included. But, more than the general form or structure of the respective tunes, it is about how they are navigated between the quintet; how much, or rather how little, each instrument intervenes and at what point they enter into conversation with the other is central. For, even in the most rudimentary sections of rhythmic and melodic vamping, communication rules all.

Among the catchy melodies and plainer song forms of Nightjar are also occasional experimental infusions. "Waves" is a beat-less venture, with rubato lines flowing between piano, trumpet and Rose on bass clarinet, before percussion emerges, turning the melancholy tune into a slow, contemplative anthem. Abrahams switches to synthesizer on "Na Pali," spinning distorted lines around an Afro-fusion groove of high pace and spirits. "High Plains," too, after being introduced as a straightforward up-tempo number abounding with blues vocabulary, drifts off into something different completely the moment the drums introduce a breakdown for the song's last third.

The lyrical and the rhythmical are in perfect balance with each other throughout the album, as are the composed and the improvised. A chamber jazz elaboration such as "High Plains"—again demonstrating Rose's soulful bass clarinet playing—can only be followed by a rumbling drum and prophet synthesizer- dominated piece such as "Evergreen" for that exact reason. The same goes for the title track and "Sun Gazers"—a bipolar finale again spotlighting the contrasting moods by mending them with the group's idiosyncratic playing and the shared roots of the compositions' melodic material.

As for the collaborative spirit of the record, by design Nightjar is different to The Vampires Meet Lionel Loueke. On that record the band highlighted the guest musician, here the invitee highlights the group, which does not speak to the quality of the recordings, as neither surpasses the other. Both demonstrate rare artistry and a keen sense of collective musicianship. Rather, it is a comment on the disposition of the music, the objective of the band's interaction. If the Loueke venture could be characterized as extroverted, then this would be that album's introverted brother. Of course, one look at the title and cover artwork put "introverted" into perspective. This may be a nocturnal affair, but there are plenty of different shades and colors to be found at night and nightjars, after all, have wings, too. And they soar.