DAMANA: Rhizome

Enterprising drummer Dag Magnus Narvesen has been a leading figure in the Norwegian improvised music scene since the 2010s. He has specialized in free encounters, such as those with pianist Alexander von Schlippenbach, heard most recently to fine effect on Kairos (Fundacja Sluchaj, 2024). But Narvesen also has a developing voice as a composer, and on Rhizome his octet, DAMANA, provides an expansive and colorful palette with which to explore this side of his muse.

The album is well-titled, as there are indeed rhizomatic tendencies in Narvesen's approach. The roots of the jazz tradition are certainly present, as one can hear echoes of the harmonic sophistication of Duke Ellington or the simmering energy of Charles Mingus, but the music here continually grows outward, sending out adventurous shoots in all directions, in a spirit of incessant creativity that precludes easy categorization.

There is a poignant quality to the record's bookends, "In Memoriam I" and "In Memoriam II," bearing a mournful spirit yet with a burgeoning vitality that builds as the music unfolds, giving each member of the ensemble room to add their individual contributions. With a potent horn section, Narvesen's octet has the heft needed to anchor the piece's understated intensity, as Kristoffer Kompen's incisive trombone and Lyder Øvreås Røed's luminous trumpet course through the music alongside the saxophones (Kristoffer Berre Alberts, Jørgen Mathisen and Klaus Holm), while pianist Øyvind Dale, bassist Adrian Fiskum Myhr and Narvesen keep the steady undercurrent churning. There is a seriousness of purpose present here, and these pieces possess a strong emotional grip. "In Memoriam II" becomes especially animated by the end of the album, concluding with a cathartic finish. "Ballad for the Forgiven" might be even stronger, with Narvesen's most compelling melody on the record, exhibiting the drummer's remarkable skill with a resonant theme.

There are moments of levity as well, however, as Narvesen's capricious side emerges on "Maudlin Vaudeville," a bouncy romp with terrific ensemble passages, while "Woe the Row of Foes" moves from a sprightly Narvesen solo into an up-tempo frolic, including plenty of room for combative dialogues to emerge.  

"Twenty Bars" starts in a freer direction, with a chaotic opening that only takes on a definitive shape midway through, as Alberts' baritone saxophone and Holm's bass clarinet usher the music into an almost martial mood while the other horns respond in vigorous counterpoint. And "Stemma" highlights Narvesen's penchant for utilizing the harmonic potential of the group, with rich voicings that float atop a smartly-swinging tempo, providing perhaps the strongest link to the deeper roots of jazz from which Narvesen draws much of his inspiration on this stimulating, highly enjoyable release.