Adam Berenson: Tunnel of Love: The Gary Burton Quintet Project

Traditionally the "tunnel of love" was a carnival ride, a boat built for two people to glide down tight, dark corridors together. In more socially stodgy times, it provided privacy and an excuse for some kind of physical contact that would be less accepted outside of the ride. As so much of Tunnel of Love: The Gary Burton Quintet Project feels like ruminations of solitude, the title feels almost ironic, and that is probably the point. With Berenson's austere, spacious arrangements and his incisive, exacting playing, he has created a beautiful album that is quite cerebral on one hand, and rich with feeling on the other. Some of those feelings are discomforting, some are elevating. It is an intriguing exploration and deconstruction of these 11 compositions that Burton performed with his mid-'70s band.

Limiting himself to sounds generated by the Yamaha reface CP (with judicious use of effects and performance controls), a compact keyboard that emulates various vintage electro-mechanical pianos, the album is also a remarkable exercise in working within delimitations. The classic Rhodes electric piano sound that he employs on the album, with its bell-like attack, proves to be extremely versatile. It is a wonderful surrogate for Burton's vibraphone, but also, sometimes with the help of effects and his own touch on the keyboard, it can supply the textures and timbres of the other instruments. The arrangements leave a lot of air. Even in places where there is certainly overdubbing involved, Berenson seems to be very careful not to clutter.

Nearly the entirety of Ring (ECM), the Gary Burton Quintet's 1974 album (made a sextet with the inclusion of German bassist Eberhard Weber), is represented here, with composer Mike Gibbs' work being prominently featured. Carla Bley's work is featured as well, with one piece each by Chick Corea and Weber. It is not necessary to be familiar with Burton's recording to engage with this album, however it is revealing to note what Berenson has chosen to strip away.

In many cases, the rhythm is softened. Burton's version of the Gibbs composition, "Intrude," has a driving, almost martial feel. Berenson's iteration rolls and flows, with the main riff creating a space for other glimmerings of texture floating above, synapses firing in all directions in conversation. Similarly, Berenson takes the odd, pulsing, almost confrontational rhythm of "Unfinished Sympathy," and brings it into a more ethereal place, airy with a delicate hint of menace.

Much of the album is quite dreamy, at times almost hallucinatory. It explores space in a very deliberate way.

The middle of the album sags a bit. "Intermission Music" feels somewhat languid, like sleepy time at the carnival; mellow without being tranquil. "Doctor," even with its sudden shifts in attack and dynamics, comes across as cold, clinical dissection. This could be by design (the title being a clue, of course), but it is less satisfying than most of the other tracks.

The couplet that ends the album balances cautious hope with anxiety. "Colors of Chlöe" possesses an openness and lightness, even with its hints of dissonance evoking uncertainty. It is by turns both stirring and wistful, while at times possessing a sublime stillness. However, in the piece to follow, Berenson uses that same stillness to a much different effect.

"Silent Spring" is pure desolation. Droning chords give the piece some bit of momentum, but less than a pressing onward, it feels the rocking back and forth of a figure uttering a funeral prayer. Alternately, in places, the use of negative space instills feelings of loneliness and isolation. A single bent note ringing out feels like a cry that no one will hear. The deep mournfulness is evocative of the suffocation of the natural world warned by Rachel Carson's 1962 book which, one must imagine, supplied the title. The piece suggests barren landscapes.

This album demands focus on the listener's part, but it is quite rewarding, and it does benefit from repeated listening. However, this is not an album for all moods; not the perfect choice for a party playlist. This is a headphones, dark room, eyes closed kind of album. A haunting exploration of spaces within and without, this Tunnel of Love ride is one to take on your own.