Julian Lage: Scenes From Above

There are always expectations when Julian Lage plays: effortless, assured virtuosity and melodic finesse. Those qualities are present here, but they are deliberately understated, subsumed within a broader emphasis on collective interplay.

Produced by Joe Henry, the album resists any attempt to remake Speak to Me. Instead, Lage sought to create an egalitarian session, explicitly avoiding a leader-centric approach. As he has suggested, this was not about "I'm the leader—let's build something around me," but rather about fostering a genuinely collaborative musical environment.

Scenes from Above unfolds with an almost contemplative character. Lage's formidable technique is never in doubt, yet his intent is not to dazzle but to integrate, to become part of a shared musical language. The album is best judged on those terms: as a document of collective music-making among musicians who have worked together in various configurations over many years and clearly relish that interaction.

All compositions are by Lage, conceived as frameworks for conversation once the group convened. The project is dedicated to his father, Mario Lage, with whom he shares a remarkable musical bond, having learned the guitar together.

The core trio is expanded here with organist John Medeski and drummer Kenny Wollesen, alongside long-time collaborator Jorge Roeder on bass. On six tracks, the ensemble broadens further with the addition of pianist Patrick Warren, who contributes bells, dulcitone, percussion, and string textures. Wollesen's role is especially significant: his rhythmic conception shapes the album's flow, from the propulsive undercurrent of "Talking Drum" to the more ephemeral shimmer of "Solid Air," both contributing to the music's gradual, organic evolution.

Roeder, a presence on numerous Lage recordings since 2009, remains characteristically self-effacing. He navigates harmonic movement with fluency, maintaining openness while providing a warm, resonant counterbalance to some of Lage's more incisive tonal edges.

"Opal" possesses a striking elegiac beauty, its atmosphere deepened by organ sonorities and bell-like textures. The clarity of Lage's guitar line lends the piece a luminous quality, while its introduction and coda subtly frame its emotional arc.

Improvisation comes more fully to the fore on "Red Elm," which leans toward a soul-jazz sensibility. Roeder's bass initiates the discourse before guitar, drums, and organ enter, establishing a fluid, exploratory momentum. By contrast, "Talking Drum" is the album's most assertive statement, its driving pulse and Medeski's animated contributions giving it a comparatively direct, even accessible character.

"Havens" draws on hand percussion in a manner reminiscent of Richie Havens, with Medeski shaping the rhythmic fabric as Lage propels the piece forward on acoustic guitar. "Night Shade," the album's longest track, unfolds with a gospel-inflected introduction from Medeski that ushers Lage into a blues-oriented space, building gradually toward a measured yet emphatic conclusion.

Ultimately, while the expected hallmarks of Lage's playing remain intact, they are intentionally restrained. The album's aesthetic is one of discipline and collective sensitivity rather than individual display. It remains to be seen whether this carefully calibrated studio intimacy will translate into the same atmosphere in live performance.