This is the reeds/keys/guitar band from French clarinetist Louis Sclavis’s fine Sources album, plus Iranian percussionist Keyvan Chemirani – who brings new tones and stretches to the rhythms, and helps develop the latest of the filmic Euro-African journeys Sclavis has been unfolding for over 20 years. The Frenchman is one of the most consistently satisfying, yet surprising jazz-driven composer-players in Europe – but, formidable as his playing is, the balance between improv unpredictability and quirkily crafted melodic narratives is what interests him, and this set represents a compelling new chapter. On the opener, the slow parabolas of his bass clarinet line deceptively camouflage how audacious his melodic sense is. Guitarist Gilles Coronado drives a tumbling, climbing improv out of the pensive L’Homme Sud; Moussay’s piano intro to L’Autre Rive sounds like a transplanted accordion-chanson before its Jarrett-like expansion; there are twitchy interplays of clarinet, guitar and percussion hooks like the almost-boppish Sel et Sole; Frisellian impressionism on Dance for Horses and a free-jazz piano excursion over sinister slapping sounds on Cortege. The playing is terrific, but – as so often with Sclavis – the themes are even better.
