Ilaria Capalbo: The Brightest Sun

"Look at the darkness," penned Lebanese-American poet Khalil Gibran, "giving birth to the sun." The arrival of a firstborn child also gives birth to the mother, who did not exist before. For Stockholm-based bassist-composer Ilaria Capalbo the profound experience of motherhood triggered a musical response of significant measure. Whereas her impressive debut, Karthago (Bluenord Records, 2022) was a predominantly acoustic affair, The Brightest Sun sees the Neapolitan introduce a little more electricity via bass guitar and pedal effects. Sparingly used, the results are potent and transformative.

Capalbo is a first-rate bassist—lean yet probing. Yet as persuasive as her playing is here, it is her writing for ensemble that most impresses. The interwoven lines of saxophonists Fredrik Nordstrom (tenor) and Thomas Backman (alto) oscillate between free-jazz tensions and harmonic refinement. Within their slipstream, guitarist Andreas Hourdakis' crystalline articulation adds spice to the mix. These rich melodic cascades are underpinned by Capalbo's and drummer Henrik Jäderberg's spacious rhythms. Jäderberg, who replaces Fredrik Rundqvist, is the only change in personnel from Karthago, and his subtlety is a striking feature of the music.

Lyricism and a light collective tread color the tender title track and the atmospheric "Two Visions"—a bass and tenor saxophone tone poem punctuated by bell-like guitar. These quietly mesmeric pools are but one side of the coin. The grungy indie-rock underbelly of "Arrival," and the free-improvisation skirmishes that unfold within, reveal an experimental, risk-venturing side of Capalbo that undoubtedly engenders real excitement. Doubling on bass clarinet, Backman brings additional bottom end textures to the ruminative "Prophecy"—on which Hourdakis shines—and the lyrical "Little Tiger," both good examples of the balance between form and freedom that Capalbo orchestrates so convincingly.

A smattering of solos stand out, though their relative brevity reflects the premium Capalbo places on collective narration. Individual solos are not so much framed by a clearly defined before and after, as they are the result of evolving group dynamics. Still, for pure lyricism it is hard to look past Capalbo's acoustic solo and Backman's bass clarinet response on "Little Tiger."

Gibran expressed the language of the heart through words. With The Brightest Sun Capalbo uses music to reflect the ineffable experience of motherhood. Only she will know how well she has succeeded in this no-less-poetic endeavor. One can, however, marvel at her attempt to do so.