Hans Luchs: The Spell is Broken

The third record by NYC-based guitarist Hans Luchs arrives six years after his praiseworthy—but largely overlooked—sophomore release, Until Next Time (Self Produced, 2018). As with that album, the Chicagoan embraces the well-known motto of "less is more," distilling his guitar expertise and writing talent into less than forty minutes across eight new original compositions.

Luchs stands as the antithesis of what we might call a jazz guitar hero and rejects any instrumental prominence as a leader. His approach avoids pyrotechnics, and his solos are neither prominent in their placement nor excessive in length. While he is not a virtuoso, the syntax and pitch that he draws from his D'Angelico Excel EXL-1 is something as admirable as it is missed by a significant part of the jazz audience. As time passes, he shows himself to be uninhibitedly mainstream, both in that term's traditional and contemporary senses. Although his most obvious influence seems to be Pat Metheny, careful listening reveals deeper, much older traces, already present in the master from Missouri: from Grant Green to Wes Montgomery, we can find in Luchs' playing the most select of the modern jazz guitar lineage, including that major performer (whose artistry has been partially buried under successful smooth commercialism) named George Benson.

Steering clear of entangled fusions and a neo-orthodoxy that often favors technical muscle-building over inspired reflection, Luchs delivers elegance and musicality, his lines displaying his love for melody and its multiple possibilities of rhythmic transformation. In his new effort, he seems to have further refined his already delicate attack and sound, especially compared to his first album, Time Never Pauses (OA2 Records, 2015). The truth is that, even with the personnel changes, he achieves a remarkable stylistic coherence; furthermore, the quintet captured here shows a natural rapport and superb rhythmic synchronization.

Beyond aesthetics and technique, the compositions demand attention. The care paid to this facet is evident at first listen, as well as the emotional raw materials from which Luchs draws, detailed in the liner notes. The search for formulas that break the usual scheme of exposition-single parts-final reprise is clear and, while the whole may lean toward excessive uniformity, several cuts stand out especially. "Azizam" opens the disc by establishing a restorative atmosphere, like coming home after a tiring day. Its suggestive chorus gives way to succinct solos by the leader and by Mike King's piano, but the beautiful sound of Daniel Berkey's tenor sax is the one that ends up prevailing, with some very successful final reflections. "Rostam" has a playful, elusive melody that unabashedly seeks to provide happiness, used by the pianist to deliver some vibrant moments (with John Hicks and Mulgrew Miller nodding in the shadows). Unusually nowadays, part of the ensemble gives us a final section that goes to the fours ... or something similar.

"Incongruent Thoughts" is the sole ballad, a territory where this musician claims not to feel entirely confident. The excellent result suggests otherwise: an appealing, dark song articulated through fleeting individual interventions. The guitarist's phrasing calms down, his tone becomes translucent, and the whole ensemble transports us to a winter scene, iridescent with the weak rays of an early sun: a cool landscape worthy of Jim Hall. The funky "Hang Hostage" breaks this icy surface, with pleasant ways à la Benson, while "Close Quarters," one of the best cuts on the album—notwithstanding a somewhat disconcerting tenor sax—reveals subtly written homages to some of his jazzy references: among them, probably, Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. And "Overdue" closes the recording with one of its most inspired compositions, endowed with sparkling interventions from all the players: Berkey's tenor opens the round with well-argued decision, Luchs delivers a great speech, Adam Arruda's drumming punctuates with subtlety while creating delicious spaces beneath the solo progressions, and the pianist saves himself for the end, with a brief but magnificent aria in which he enjoys deconstructing Wayne Shorter's "Witch Hunt."

A candid, endearing shyness and modesty permeate this work, from the liner notes to its musical resolution, and this should not be seen as criticism. These are quite rare qualities in our hardened world, often perceived as useless, shameful or worthy of sarcasm. But the innocent, open, clean musical look at the foolishness, manipulation and perverse irrationality that poisons our daily reality is welcome. Those who have followed Luchs since his first accomplishment may miss the forcefulness that illuminated earlier tracks like "Der Lumenmeister" and "Hello Janssen," or the grunge-jazz feel of "Winter Is Here," included on Until Next Time. Others might prefer a few more extensive solo developments and some new reading on standards, as he did in his debut album. The Spell Is Broken may be enjoyed by many, but especially by those who prefer to slowly sip a fresh, floral Gewutzraminer rather than submerge in the structured rotundity of a Catalan Priorat red wine. But beyond personal tastes, its main value lies in its careful purpose for reworking a strong tradition that, perhaps thanks to updates like the one featured here, can be discovered by the younger jazz generations.

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