John Dikeman, Pat Thomas, John Edwards, Steve Noble: Volume 1

For those worried about soaring energy bills, the inflammatory foursome of tenor saxophonist John Dikeman, pianist Pat Thomas, bassist John Edwards and drummer Steve Noble certainly offers one solution. They must have truly warmed the room at London's Cafe Oto on a cold February evening in 2019, on the evidence of the forty-minute program presented on Volume 1. It is hard to think of a more potent set of practitioners of the free jazz vernacular than this particular agglomeration, all at the top of their game, drawing on years of experience.

While Dikeman, with his twisted contorted lines full of sanctified shrieks, throaty beseeching and bruised lyricism, is the front of house player here, he needs to be on his toes so as not to be overrun during the bristling give and take. For much of the time it is not so much a conversation as everyone shouting with excitement, jubilation, outrage and passion, yet still miraculously remaining aware of what is going on around them and able to make space, adjust and react in real time.

Thomas—a major presence on the British scene, finally getting something like his due, at least in Europe—often adds a percussive undertow to the group interaction, his hammered tremolos conjuring the cartoonish image of keys spraying off the piano under the intense pressure. In that he was aided by the thorny, constantly flexing, bass and drum lattice from the tandem of Edwards and Noble, a unit with heavyweight credentials as two thirds of one of Peter Brötzmann's more notable trios (try The Worse The Better (Otoroku, 2013)), as well as half of Decoy with Joe McPhee— sample Oto (Bo'Weevil (2010), or Spontaneous Combustion (Otoroku, 2012).

At one point on the half-hour-plus piece "I Said....," Thomas introduces a chiming two-note motif, ushering in a proto-groove, reminiscent of his work with the minimalist cum mayhem-orientated collective [Ahmed]. It is picked up in rolling thunder by Noble, never one averse to introducing a pulse into even the most unfettered surroundings, before Dikeman affirms the vibe with a few R&B inflected riffs. But when the pianist eases off, it is as if the clouds part, the better to illuminate an astonishing passage of unaccompanied bass, a kinetic tour de force of harmonics, twangs, thwacks and slaps, which forms the transition to yet more imposing tangles. The piece ends in terrific fashion with a tenor soliloquy of gut-wrenching tenderness which erupts into an Albert Ayler-accented hymnal.

And the album title promises yet more. Can't wait.