Daniel Hersog: Open Spaces

Locked down and socially distanced during the pandemic, composer-arranger Daniel Hersog had an interesting idea: rearrange some well-known and well-loved folk songs, most with Canadian roots, for jazz orchestra and throw in a handful of his own original compositions with a folk-tune ambience. The result is Open Spaces: Folk Songs Reimagined, the sophomore album by Hersog's Vancouver-based ensemble.

As on his debut recording, Night Devoid of Stars (Cellar Music, 2020), Hersog welcomes a number of talented guest artists to sit in: trumpeter Brad Turner, saxophonists Scott Robinson and Noah Preminger, guitarist Kurt Rosenwinkel, pianist Frank Carlberg. With an orchestra and guests of that caliber, it would seem a sure bet to number Open Spaces among the more persuasive big-band albums of the year.

As you can't, however, judge a book by its cover, so you can't appraise an album by its pedigree. In spite of presumably having every element in place to allow it to soar, Open Spaces seldom makes it off the ground. While the words "ponderous" and "overblown" spring to mind, the reasons are several, and Hersog's generally unimpressive charts account for only one of them. Soloists pose another problem. Although there is ample room for improvisation on most numbers, no one has much of interest to say—not even the usually dependable Robinson, whose unassuming baritone solo on "Shenandoah," Hersog writes, "had [him] in tears."

Truth be told, there is a reason why folk songs always have been and remain so popular among the masses: they tell persusasive stories that are usually upbeat and hopeful, making listeners feel good about themselves and humanity in general. There is little of that optimism or cheerfulness here. Indeed, the opposite is far too often true, as everyone seems intent not only to "reimagine" folk songs but to make them as somber and tedious as possible. Everything, it seems, plods glumly along, from Gordon Lightfoot's "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" to the traditional "Red River Valley," which brings the largely austere session to a suitable close.

So what can be done to spruce up a dismal album such as this and make it shine? The answer, dear friend, may be "blowin' in the wind," but you won't find it here.