Hilary Geddes: Redleaf

The cover art of Australian guitarist-composer Hilary Geddes' Redleaf is, in some ways, a reflection of the music within. Striking and impressionistic, the bright colors of flower and leaf complement each other against a bold yet soothing backdrop. Such qualities of balance and contrast, thrills and balm, pervade the music.

The eight compositions on Geddes' follow-up to Parkside (ABC Jazz, 2021) share some of the qualities of that impressive debut, notably minimalist gestures and exploratory textures. That is perhaps not a surprise, as Redleaf was composed shortly thereafter and features the same musicians. But whereas Parkside occasionally veered into the gnarly blues terrain and ambient meditations of '90s-era Bill Frisell, Redleaf is, for the most part, a more meditative offering.

The odd adrenaline rush aside, a dreamy, suite-like coherence prevails, replete with fine melodies and the timbral dynamics that are Geddes' stock in trade. The opener "Riff" is a good bellwether for anyone coming to Geddes for the first time—the contrasts between unaccompanied guitar reverie, darting unison lines and spiky improvisation revealing the breadth of her aesthetic range and compositional ambition. With pianist Matthew Harris, double bassist Maximillian Alduca and drummer Alexander Inman-Hislop, Geddes boasts simpatico collaborators with an intuitive feel for the music's contours.

Harris and Geddes dovetail beautifully throughout, mirroring each other on fleet composed runs and shadowboxing in the music's freer passages. Geddes' solo on "Riff" and the pianist's improvisation on the very pretty "The Needling" are notable, but it is the luster of their ornamentation and comping throughout the album that is the real takeaway. Alduca and Inman-Hislop provide deft ballast, their spare rhythms and accents coloring the music in subtle though significant ways.

There is nary a trace of the Frisellian language that informed Parkside in Geddes' playing. Instead, her patiently constructed, engaging solos and sonic manipulations—both organic and pedal-driven—are those of a musician confident in her own musical skin. Half the tunes could be loosely described as ambient excursions where atmosphere trumps virtuosity; piano notes falling like raindrops, jangling guitar strings, slow bass pulses and repetitive refrains of simple beauty exert a trance-like hold. Fans of Chris Schlarb's Psychic Temple (Sounds Are Active/Asthmatic Kitty Records, 2011)—another exquisite exercise in minimalism and sensory seduction—will likely find much to enjoy in Geddes' less-is-more approach.

Just as Bill Frisell's restless explorations have conjured a spirit of Americana all his own, Hilary Geddes' spacious sonic world—brimming with unpredictable beauty—seems to speak to the vast open spaces and adventurous spirit of her native Australia. It whets the appetite for what is yet to come from Geddes as she carves a distinctive path through the crowded field of jazz/improvised music.