Rodrigo Amado: Wailers

A decade ago, it would have been easy to assume that saxophonist Rodrigo Amado's This Is Our Language (Not Two, 2015) was a singular encounter rather than the beginning of an enduring ensemble. Amado had previously collaborated with bassist Kent Kessler and drummer Paal Nilssen-Love on Teatro (European Echoes, 2006), while drummer Chris Corsano would join him for a pair of exceptional duo recordings. The final piece was the legendary Joe McPhee, whose presence elevated the quartet's debut into something extraordinary. At the time, however, no one could have predicted that this gathering of four strong individual voices would evolve into one of the most compelling working bands in contemporary free jazz.

The subsequent releases A History of Nothing (Trost, 2018) and Let the Free Be Men (Trost, 2021) confirmed that Rodrigo Amado's This Is Our Language Quartet was no passing project but a fully realized ensemble with its own collective identity. Wailers, named after an Amiri Baraka poem that invokes Bob Marley, Thelonious Monk, Bud Powell, Duke Ellington and John Coltrane: "We are Wailers. Don't be scared. Nothing happening but out and way out." is the quartet's fourth recording and its strongest statement yet.

The quartet practices free jazz in its purest sense: spontaneous composition shaped by experience, trust and acute listening. There is nothing arbitrary about the music. Each improvisation grows organically, transforming abstract ideas into coherent musical architecture. Amado and McPhee, separated by nearly three decades in age, share a remarkably similar artistic temperament. Both understand that the power of improvisation lies not in dominating the conversation but in building something larger than any individual contribution. Mixed into separate stereo channels, their tenor saxophones converse, overlap and diverge, allowing listeners to follow each voice while appreciating the larger tapestry they weave together.

The title track opens with a vigorous exchange between the two saxophonists, propelled by the muscular foundation of Kessler's bass and Corsano's relentlessly inventive drumming. Rather than establishing conflict, the music immediately establishes dialogue. "Hot Folk" follows with an expansive, blues-inflected meditation that begins with bowed bass and textured percussion before unfolding into a series of intimate duo conversations that continually reshape the quartet's sound.

"Subterranean Night Color" begins with McPhee and Corsano trading energetic bursts before Amado enters, answering not with competition but with affirmation. The performance rises to an exhilarating peak before settling into a remarkably gentle resolution. "Theory of Mind III (for Joe)," performed without McPhee, opens with Amado's bird whistle, an unexpected gesture that gives way to Kessler's lyrical arco bass and Corsano's responsive pulse. The trio demonstrates how spacious and conversational the group's music can be even in the absence of one of its principal voices.

The closing "Blue Blowers" beautifully encapsulates the quartet's philosophy. Rather than chasing climaxes or displays of virtuosity, the musicians patiently assemble the performance one phrase at a time, each contribution reinforcing what came before. Like master builders laying brick upon brick, they construct an improvisation whose strength lies in cooperation rather than confrontation. Wailers confirms that Rodrigo Amado's quartet has become far more than an all-star gathering. It is a mature ensemble whose greatest achievement is transforming individual brilliance into a deeply collective musical language.