Liv Andrea Hauge Trio: Ville Blomster

Some musicians toil for years to deliver a debut album, perhaps because composing does not come easily. A lack of confidence, or simply the financial burden of recording can also be inhibitors. Other musicians seem to hit the ground running. Liv Andrea Hauge, a pianist and composer from northern Norway belongs in the latter category. Just one week after first playing with bassist Georgia Wartel Collins and drummer August Glännestrand, Hauge recorded the trio on a low-key gig for friends in her living room. Pleased with the results, Hauge released Live from St. Hanshaugen (Self Produced, 2022), thirty-three minutes of music—the length of an old LP—that announced Hauge's merits as a gifted melodic composer (check out the gorgeous "Telthusbakken" on Bandcamp) and her trio as a flexible unit, one as comfortable with improvised adventure as with groove.

A year of gigging and practicing together deepened the musicians' bonds and further cemented an identity that seemed to be in place with from day one. The trio makes its studio bow with Ville Blomster (Hubro, 2024), an assured offering that balances grace and risk. Hauge, who studied classical music before switching to jazz, has chops and technique in abundance, but she wears her talents lightly, crafting pretty melodies that are the starting points for trio explorations. And hers are fine melodies indeed. The sweet melancholy of "Det vokser ville blomster på månen" teeters between a smile and a tear, while "Gullregn" has the sunny skip of a Vince Guaraldi Peanuts gem.

Hauge could probably knock out handsome tunes all day long, and you suspect she knows it too. So, the hefty doses of three-way improvisation and introspection that equally define the music point to a musician not content to rest in any comfort zone.

Hymnal grace and ghostly abstraction go hand-in-hand on "Vår," where Collins' and Glännestrand's restless stirrings create an edgy ambiance. Likewise, the vignette "Ødemarka" juxtaposes lulling melody and arch abstraction. Nor is this trio afraid to go all the way out, with free improvisation bursting forth from the Esbjorn Svensson Trio-esque "Fri Flyt" and steering "Du Og Jeg, Baby" from start to finish; on the latter, wood, skin, bow and damped piano strings conjure a cornucopia of percussive exchanges—abstract yet intense.

Hints of classical-cum-folk melodies shade Hauge's playing on "Istid," the pianist nestling into an emotive meditation over fluttering brushes and spare bass. Fans of Keith Jarrett may feel drawn to Hauge's playing, but any resemblance is passing. Straddling both North American and European pianistic traditions—without nailing her influences to her mast—Hauge exhibits a refreshingly open approach to the modern jazz-piano trio. Ville Blomster means "wildflowers" in Norwegian, an apt title for music that seduces on multiple levels. It is an impressive start from Hauge, Collins and Glännestrand, one that holds the promise of a bright future.