Max Wild spent his formative years in Zimbabwe, where he learned to play the saxophone and came under the influence of the country's music. It is not surprising, then, that his debut album dwells largely on the rhythms that fascinated him.
Wild brings a lyrical style of play on several of the songs. He cues in on the rhythm and his band locks in as well, so many of the songs come off strong and heady. A "New Beginning" is defined by a slow waltz tempo. Wild states the theme crisply and then goes on to sweeten the melody, the skein further unravelled by Soren Moller, whose piano wraps a gentle fall of notes. Wild returns with a harder groove for his explorations before returning to the theme. "Ndindindi" flies on an exhilarating African rhythm, the guitar of Jesse Lewis acting as the messenger for the sinuous melody. The saxophone curls in on short, jumpy notes before it gets deeper into the pulse and spins dizzyingly.
Wild changes the shape of "Remember Me," nestling a slow tempo between sunny Latin cavorting. Some of the best moments come when Lewis slides into spaces and adds extra dimensions. The band plays a stripped down version of "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" at a funereal pace that cuts loose the bounce and perkiness that were an integral part of the composition. Despite this and Wild's occasional tendency to overblow, Zambezi Sunset is an appealing record.
First time I met Lee Konitz, my mentor who completely changed my life, in 1992. He was giving a masterclass at the Cologne Conservatory (Germany) where I was a freshmen (with playing experience around three years total)
First time I met Lee Konitz, my mentor who completely changed my life, in 1992. He was giving a masterclass at the Cologne Conservatory (Germany) where I was a freshmen (with playing experience around three years total). He saw an alto sax on my neck and said: Hey, how about you there, would you like to play something for us? I played a piece with the piano. OK, said Lee, how about you play something unaccompanied? Oh yeah! I was deep into transcribing Sonny Stitt and pretty much into playing as fast as possible as many right notes as possible. So I played Oleo in about 300 beats per minute and was very proud of myself. Lee was tapping his foot all the way through. Hmm, he said, that was in time and all that... (I thought - yeah, of course, haha!) and then he said, You've got a lot of quantity, how about quality? It took me 15 years to realize what he meant.