Steve Lehman Trio and Mark Turner: The Music of Anthony Braxton

Anthony Braxton has long had a reputation as being one of the most abstruse and forbidding musicians of the jazz avant-garde. Whether it is his impossibly esoteric notation systems, or the bizarre instrumentation he sometimes features on his recordings—his Composition No. 19 (For 100 Tubas) being just one example—one must tread carefully when engaging this unique musical mind. Hence it is a pleasure to encounter saxophonists Steve Lehman and Mark Turner joining forces for a tribute to the maverick composer. Assisted by Lehman's regular trio partners, bassist Matt Brewer and drummer Damion Reid, the foursome is able to honor Braxton in a manner both invigorating and accessible, rendering the ethereal aspects of Braxton's muse a bit more earth-bound.

With a relatively more conventional instrumental lineup than found on some of his previous work—see, by contrast, his compositionally ambitious Ex Machina, recorded with France's Orchestre National de Jazz (Pi Recordings, 2023) or Sélébéyone (Pi Recordings, 2016), his avant-rap ensemble—this release is a welcome reminder of just how talented Lehman is as an instrumentalist. His tart and focused alto darts through the Braxton pieces, as well as a couple of his own compositions and a superb rendition of Thelonious Monk's "Trinkle, Tinkle." His ability to dissect the nuances and intricacies of Braxton's work is astonishing, although perhaps not surprising, as Lehman worked extensively with Braxton from 1999 to 2007. And his own compositions, "L.A. Genes" and "Unbroken and Unspoken," fit nicely with the Braxton material: crafty themes, with intriguing possibilities for improvisational flights.

Lehman also has a fine companion in Turner, whose rich tenor provides the perfect complement and foil for Lehman. Listen to the two charging forward on the brisk opener, "34a," where they navigate the tricky theme expertly in tandem, only to then open up generous solo space, where Turner adopts a feisty yet measured approach and Lehman pours forth cascading torrents of notes. But it is when they come together at the pensive close of the track that their distinctive chemistry is most apparent, as a subtle harmonic power reverberates through the two horns. Their unaccompanied conversation to open "Trinkle, Tinkle" is another delight, with the two exchanging ideas at a rapid-fire clip before settling into the tune.

Brewer and Reid should get a good deal of the credit for the success of the album, as their taut rhythmic foundation adds tensile strength to the pieces, ensuring that a sturdy groove undergirds each track. Braxton's "40b" leads off with an adroit solo from Brewer that soon transitions into an infectious theme animated by the bassist's limber ostinato and the saxophonists' staccato bursts, not to mention a rock-solid rhythmic floor from Reid. And "23c" is a challenging piece with a thorny theme, but in the hands of this rhythm team it becomes not only unintimidating, but downright delightful. What is abundantly clear is just how much energy and joy these musicians bring to the music. It is a nice rejoinder to the idea that Braxton's corpus is too abstract to be appreciated at a more visceral, elemental level.

An album that deserves and demands multiple encounters, The Music of Anthony Braxton is another triumph for Lehman, and it will hopefully encourage many more listeners to revisit the work of one of jazz's foremost innovators.

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