Daniel Bennett Group: We Are the Orchestra

To step into Daniel Bennett's music is to agree, quietly and without protest, to loosen your grip on the obvious. You enter as you might a half-lit room where conversations are already underway, familiar yet oddly angled, tethered to reality but leaning just far enough away from it to feel enchanted. This album opens that door with "Loose Fitting Spare Tire," a title that feels less like a joke than a thesis statement. From the first moments of this duo outing with guitarist Mark Cocheo, it is clear that Bennett and Cocheo are not merely playing instruments but are thinking aloud together, tracing the contours of a mutual curiosity.

The pair earn the album's name quickly, multitracking themselves into a playful abundance that never tips into excess. There is a sense of gleeful competence at work, like children discovering a chest of tools they already know how to use, having spent years watching, listening, and imagining. Bennett's sound has always carried an erudite whimsy, a seriousness that smiles at itself, and here that character is distilled to its essence. Melody, feel, and time are treated not as constraints but as companions. The result is spirited, almost buoyant, setting a tone that carries forward without strain or bravado.

As the record unfolds, tactility becomes one of its quiet triumphs. "I'm Not Nancy," a highlight for Cocheo's banjo, adds a satisfying grain to the music's surface, as though the listener has been invited to touch as well as hear. Bennett's flute enters with a particular grace, fluid and purposeful, reminiscent of a shepherd who watches over his flock with both patience and ferocity. It is never ornamental. It knows why it is there. Bennett moves easily between piano, percussion, winds, and especially alto sax, which acts as the gravitational center of the album. The other instruments orbit with restraint, offering their wishes only when the fountain seems ready to receive them.

This selectiveness is one of the album's defining virtues. "Gold Star Mufflers" comforts through its circular motion, its repetitions feeling less like loops than reassurances. "Refinancing for Elephants" introduces piccolo lines that tint the music with a gentle folk sensibility, while the oboe on "Inside Our Pizza Oven," cowritten with Cocheo, brings a quirkily arid mood that is as precise as it is tongue-in-cheek. Cocheo, for his part, demonstrates an instinctive sense of when to shift textures and when to stay put. His phrasing feels conversational, attentive, and deeply in sync with Bennett's own musical language. Nowhere is this more evident than in the closing track, "Carl Finds His Way," where Cocheo's electric guitar rides the current just long enough to remind us how satisfying it is to trust the flow.

During the journey, the duo pauses to reinterpret two themes by Giuseppe Verdi, and these moments feel less like detours than like postcards sent from parallel timelines. The "Theme from Ernani" arrives stripped of ceremony, like an instant ramen packet emptied of noodles, leaving only the concentrated broth, rich and immediate. The "Theme from Il Trovatore" carries us, almost mischievously, to 15th-century Spain, as though history itself has been folded into a small basket and set gently at our feet, brimming with stories yet untold.

By the time the album draws to a close, what remains is not simply satisfaction but a sense of flourishing wonder. This is music that respects the listener's time and rewards attention with compound interest. It does not insist on meaning, yet meaning accrues. It does not shout its cleverness, yet wit and wisdom surface everywhere. And when the final notes fade, the album's most generous gesture is to leave us with a question rather than an answer. If two musicians can conjure an orchestra from such attentive listening and playful restraint, what other worlds might be waiting just beyond the edges of our own habits, ready to sound into being if we only learn how to listen?

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